Note: This is a perspective that I submitted to The Hilltop, Howard University's student newspaper. I just submitted it today, so it has yet to be published.
In his column "Unphiltered," Phil Lucas wrote his response to comments that were made on Allhiphop.com. There, Brothers were anticipating with glee the number of “freaks and hoes” that would be at our school’s homecoming celebrations. Initially offended by these comments, Brother Lucas still felt the need to caution Sisters to dress appropriately. Also, he warned the entire Howard community to be selective with their sexual endeavors in order to preserve individuals’ reputations. Offenders should be expelled (Yeah, I couldn’t believe it either.) because this would deter folks from tarnishing Howard’s reputation as a premiere HBCU.
I do not submit this perspective in order to demonize Brother Lucas. In fact, his view is the mainstream, dominant one that many folks may agree with. I wish to only offer an alternative perspective and to demonstrate the extent to which his comments were damaging to our community.
With that said, indulge me if you will.
The ideological framework Brother Lucas is operating within is the same of rapists who believe that if a girl was being provocative or wearing certain types of clothes, then she “was asking for it.” A female’s choice of dress is no indicator of her sexual happenings, expectations, or allowances.
If a woman walks outside her house butt naked, no man has the right to touch her or to yell obscenities. However, we all know that if a woman walks outside in sweat pants and a winter coat she runs the risk of sexual assault.
In fact, just being a woman is enough to get you sexually assaulted in this sexist society.
Nonetheless, we understand that wearing less clothes or dressing provocatively increases the risk of sexual assault. Not that long ago, drinking out of a white water fountain in the South could have gotten you lynched. Also, let us not forget that sitting under a “white” tree in Jena, Louisiana can have major repercussions in America’s injustice system.
And one need not drink from a white water fountain or sit under a “white” tree because just being black is enough to get you discriminated against in this white-supremacist society.
The truth is that we all learn to police our actions living within a white-supremacist capitalist patriarchy. Much in the same way that a woman knows not to walk outside wearing nothing because she could possibly be raped, blacks knew we could get lynched if we chose to drink from the white water fountain. With this understanding, it is clear that women who dress provocatively are not the problem; the problem is the system of oppression that allows injustice to occur based upon something as frivolous as their choice of dress.
It is absurd to criticize women for dressing provocatively (Who would criticize Rosa Parks for remaining seated on the bus?). Now, this is not to say that all Howard females who choose to dress provocatively have some type of radical feminist mission. But the point still stands that no one who transgresses against oppression – whether consciously or subconsciously - should be reprimanded.
At best, we can say that women who dress provocatively are not taking the necessary precautions to avoid harm. But it does not follow, by any stretch of the imagination, that brothers on Allhiphop.com are justified by calling them “freaks and hoes” and that females’ dress should be checked in order to maintain the reputation of Howard University.
If our reputation depends on whether or not female students choose to dress provocatively, it is a reputation not worth having. Our worth as an institution must transcend the whims of a sexist, patriarchal order if we are to be worth anything at all.
Brother Lucas’s column was so disappointing to me because it fits so well within the paradigm of patriarchy and sexist oppression that feminist movement has been fighting against since its inception. As black men, we have a responsibility to stand in solidarity with our sisters. Instead of asking black women to alter their dress, we should be focusing our efforts on educating men on the negative impact of their sexist language, behaviors, and attitudes.
Friday, October 12, 2007
Sunday, October 7, 2007
Answer to "How's Howard going so far?"
My dear, dear folks. If one more person asks me how Howard is going...
Naw, but forreal, I figured I would publish this here so I can answer the question that seems to be on everyone's lips "How's Howard going so far?"
If you're reading this, then you probably know that I'm doing the domestic exchange program and spending the fall semester at Howard University in Washington, D.C. I will return to Columbia in the Spring. So, exactly how is Howard going, you ask?
Generally, the answer is "not well." Now, that is not to say that it is going badly; it just means that it could be better. There are a couple of reasons for this. The main ones are the fact that I miss friends and family back home (Yes, I'm calling NYC home, now.) and I would like to be doing more of my major work at Columbia. Classes here are mediocre; there is significantly less coursework and teachers seem to water-down material and shy away from critical dialogue with their students.
To better illustrate my point about the professors, I will relay one particularly horrifying experience that occurred the other day.
A few weeks ago I was given an assignment in English class to write a 1 -2 page paper. Well, I got it back last week, bleeding, and with a "D" on it. The professor claimed that I didn't understand the assignment and used pronouns incorrectly. What she meant, I am convinced, is that she didn't understand my argument; therefore, in her mind, I didn't understand her assignment.
But anyway, I went to her office hours last week to discuss the grade, and we got into it. I did not walk in there expecting a confrontation, but nevertheless I got one. Essentially, she wanted me to have the attitude of "I got a bad grade, so can I rewrite the paper with the corrections you marked?", but I walked in there with the attitude of "Would you reconsider the grade you gave me? I believe if you read it more carefully my point will be clear to you."
This really pissed her off. She felt as though her authority was threatened by a student who walked into her office questioning her judgement. Whereas, I was simply asking her to engage in a dialogue with me about the grade she had given me on my paper. She was looking for me to passively accept everything she was saying, and she got the opposite. She was visibly frustrated, and by the end of our short meeting, she had kicked me out of her office.
I promptly returned to my dorm room for a "Change of Program" form and went back to her office for her signature. I just had to get out of that class.
Now, I know what you're thinking: "This confrontation could have happened at Columbia. It is unfair to label the institution of Howard negatively because of one crazy individual." I accept this as true, but if I take this experience and add it to all of the other less dramatic ones I am provided with a rather fucked-up view of my "Howard/HBCU experience."
But I'm good. I will make the best of my experience here even though I severely miss those I care about back home. Peace and blessings, folks.
Naw, but forreal, I figured I would publish this here so I can answer the question that seems to be on everyone's lips "How's Howard going so far?"
If you're reading this, then you probably know that I'm doing the domestic exchange program and spending the fall semester at Howard University in Washington, D.C. I will return to Columbia in the Spring. So, exactly how is Howard going, you ask?
Generally, the answer is "not well." Now, that is not to say that it is going badly; it just means that it could be better. There are a couple of reasons for this. The main ones are the fact that I miss friends and family back home (Yes, I'm calling NYC home, now.) and I would like to be doing more of my major work at Columbia. Classes here are mediocre; there is significantly less coursework and teachers seem to water-down material and shy away from critical dialogue with their students.
To better illustrate my point about the professors, I will relay one particularly horrifying experience that occurred the other day.
A few weeks ago I was given an assignment in English class to write a 1 -2 page paper. Well, I got it back last week, bleeding, and with a "D" on it. The professor claimed that I didn't understand the assignment and used pronouns incorrectly. What she meant, I am convinced, is that she didn't understand my argument; therefore, in her mind, I didn't understand her assignment.
But anyway, I went to her office hours last week to discuss the grade, and we got into it. I did not walk in there expecting a confrontation, but nevertheless I got one. Essentially, she wanted me to have the attitude of "I got a bad grade, so can I rewrite the paper with the corrections you marked?", but I walked in there with the attitude of "Would you reconsider the grade you gave me? I believe if you read it more carefully my point will be clear to you."
This really pissed her off. She felt as though her authority was threatened by a student who walked into her office questioning her judgement. Whereas, I was simply asking her to engage in a dialogue with me about the grade she had given me on my paper. She was looking for me to passively accept everything she was saying, and she got the opposite. She was visibly frustrated, and by the end of our short meeting, she had kicked me out of her office.
I promptly returned to my dorm room for a "Change of Program" form and went back to her office for her signature. I just had to get out of that class.
Now, I know what you're thinking: "This confrontation could have happened at Columbia. It is unfair to label the institution of Howard negatively because of one crazy individual." I accept this as true, but if I take this experience and add it to all of the other less dramatic ones I am provided with a rather fucked-up view of my "Howard/HBCU experience."
But I'm good. I will make the best of my experience here even though I severely miss those I care about back home. Peace and blessings, folks.
Thoughts on Black Solidarity
So, I’m in this class called “African-American Philosophy.” We are reading a book by Tommie Shelby called We Who Are Dark: The Philosophical Foundations of Black Solidarity. Brother Shelby is a professor at Harvard University . In his book, Shelby takes head on the critics who would say that today – considering all of the advances America has had in regards to racial equality – “Black solidarity” is an unnecessary form of “identity politics” and that it superficially calls for group loyalty in an ever-evolving multi-racial, and multi-cultural society.
Shelby , however, comes out on the right end. His entire book is devoted to defending the stance that “Black solidarity” is an important political stance to be adopted by Blacks. But he is careful in his analysis. He clearly defines this Black solidarity in terms of a political solidarity, a point that I accept. But I do take issue with some aspects of his argument.
He says that the philosophical foundation for Black solidarity is anti-racist political struggle, but I think he’s missing something. I submit that the philosophical foundation of Black solidarity is “anti-oppression” political struggle as opposed to just “anti-racist” political struggle. Thinking about Black solidarity in terms of anti-oppression political struggle addresses the pluralism amongst “we who are dark” and works to weed out every form of oppression in our lives.
For instance, a social justice organization that wants a robust Black solidarity must not only focus on “Blackness” or anti-racist political struggle. They can certainly organize within an anti-racist framework, but they must at least have a more far-reaching analysis of the world. A social justice organization such as this must also look at gender and issues of class in order to form a stronger and more robust Black solidarity.
A real world example is the Mike Tyson case (the Clarence Thomas/Anita Hill situation is another) where he was accused, and convicted, of raping Desiree Washington. Black feminist critiques of this case raised important questions about Black solidarity during this period. Many Black folks who called for Black solidarity in the Tyson case (i.e. defending the Black man) did so at the expense of the Black woman involved (i.e. the possibility of a Black woman being sexually assaulted is to be marginalized to make room for “Black solidarity”). Within this conception of Black solidarity, Black men reap the benefits of blind loyalty while Black women shut up and support their men.
In this case, prominent Black male leaders (I’m thinking particularly of Louis Farrakhan.) called for “Black solidarity” to defend these Black men from what they saw as a castrating white-supremacist power structure. What they didn’t realize - or maybe they did - is that they were fueling the patriarchal machine that has historically devalued the lives, experiences, and credibility of Black women. We must remember a time not that long ago when the rape of a Black woman was impossible because society viewed her as being so promiscuous that her consent was to be assumed.
So it seems to me that at once we are calling for “Black solidarity,” but at the same time we are disenfranchising half of our group by using the language of patriarchy and sexist thinking. A Black solidarity that has an anti-racist political struggle as its foundation could possibly ignore – as we see in the case above – the fact that Black women are both Black and women. A Black solidarity that has an anti-oppression political struggle as its foundation recognizes this potential dilemma and would incorporate, for instance, a feminist critique and bring us closer to finding truth.
To create and maintain a robust Black solidarity, its foundation must extend beyond a narrow anti-racist political struggle and bring into question issues of gender, class, and ability, just to name a few; essentially, the foundation must be anti-oppression and anti-domination.
Shelby , however, comes out on the right end. His entire book is devoted to defending the stance that “Black solidarity” is an important political stance to be adopted by Blacks. But he is careful in his analysis. He clearly defines this Black solidarity in terms of a political solidarity, a point that I accept. But I do take issue with some aspects of his argument.
He says that the philosophical foundation for Black solidarity is anti-racist political struggle, but I think he’s missing something. I submit that the philosophical foundation of Black solidarity is “anti-oppression” political struggle as opposed to just “anti-racist” political struggle. Thinking about Black solidarity in terms of anti-oppression political struggle addresses the pluralism amongst “we who are dark” and works to weed out every form of oppression in our lives.
For instance, a social justice organization that wants a robust Black solidarity must not only focus on “Blackness” or anti-racist political struggle. They can certainly organize within an anti-racist framework, but they must at least have a more far-reaching analysis of the world. A social justice organization such as this must also look at gender and issues of class in order to form a stronger and more robust Black solidarity.
A real world example is the Mike Tyson case (the Clarence Thomas/Anita Hill situation is another) where he was accused, and convicted, of raping Desiree Washington. Black feminist critiques of this case raised important questions about Black solidarity during this period. Many Black folks who called for Black solidarity in the Tyson case (i.e. defending the Black man) did so at the expense of the Black woman involved (i.e. the possibility of a Black woman being sexually assaulted is to be marginalized to make room for “Black solidarity”). Within this conception of Black solidarity, Black men reap the benefits of blind loyalty while Black women shut up and support their men.
In this case, prominent Black male leaders (I’m thinking particularly of Louis Farrakhan.) called for “Black solidarity” to defend these Black men from what they saw as a castrating white-supremacist power structure. What they didn’t realize - or maybe they did - is that they were fueling the patriarchal machine that has historically devalued the lives, experiences, and credibility of Black women. We must remember a time not that long ago when the rape of a Black woman was impossible because society viewed her as being so promiscuous that her consent was to be assumed.
So it seems to me that at once we are calling for “Black solidarity,” but at the same time we are disenfranchising half of our group by using the language of patriarchy and sexist thinking. A Black solidarity that has an anti-racist political struggle as its foundation could possibly ignore – as we see in the case above – the fact that Black women are both Black and women. A Black solidarity that has an anti-oppression political struggle as its foundation recognizes this potential dilemma and would incorporate, for instance, a feminist critique and bring us closer to finding truth.
To create and maintain a robust Black solidarity, its foundation must extend beyond a narrow anti-racist political struggle and bring into question issues of gender, class, and ability, just to name a few; essentially, the foundation must be anti-oppression and anti-domination.
Response to Jena 6 Requires Revolutionary Vision
Note: I originally wrote this piece for the "Hilltop," Howard University's student newspaper. It appeared in the "Perspectives" section on August 29, 2007; it assumes a general knowledge of the "Jena 6" situaiton in Louisiana.
The case of the Jena 6 in Louisiana proves that white-supremacy is alive and well in this country; it has further highlighted the fact that we live in a fundamentally racist society. It seems as if it takes an event such as this about every two to three years to keep us vigilant and renewed in Black liberation struggle. Much like the assassination of Sean Bell and the genocide in New Orleans, the modern-day lynching of the Jena 6 has brought a much needed conversation about white-privilege and the horrors of being Black in this country back into the mainstream. But the socio-political implications of these events transcend the individuals who compose them.
For instance, as we mourn the brutal death of Sean Bell, we must recognize the hundreds of Black and Brown folks before him who have fallen victim at the hands of state violence. Grassroots organizations - like the Malcolm X Grassroots Movement in Brooklyn, for example - sought justice for the Bell family while incorporating a virulent critique of police brutality.
Similarly, the genocide in New Orleans is not specific to the Gulf Coast . Folks realize that what happened in New Orleans is indicative of a larger historical problem in this country: the continued devaluation of the lives and communities of poor people of color. This is evidenced in what has been termed “Hurricane Columbia” by those who oppose Columbia University ’s expansion into the West Manhattanville neighborhood of New York City , an imperialist expansion that would displace hundreds and destroy a community.
We must enter the struggle for justice for the Jena 6 with the same revolutionary vision. The situation in Jena is not just about the young Black men being unjustifiably thrown into the prison industrial complex for the better part of their lives. This is about a country and an (in)justice system in which the lives of Black and Brown folks are of little importance.
We must take into account the individual Brothers who are being affected by these racist policies; we will organize and we will fight for our Brothers in solidarity. But with this, we must keep our sights fixed on revolutionary goals.
We must strategically incorporate a critique of the prison industrial complex. Our folks disproportionately occupy America ’s prisons. The government invests in our confinement: more money is spent on building prisons than funding inner-city school systems.
We must not shy away from a critique of capitalism. Poor people, who lack the financial power to wield influence and provide themselves adequate defense, tend to fall within the cracks of the prison industrial complex more quickly than their affluent counterparts. Even though the Jena 6 show no particular signs of opulence, we must remember and struggle in the memory of our Brothers and Sisters who do not have the privilege of a national campaign for their freedom and who remain nameless behind the bars of a cell. And what about the violent masculinity that gave rise to this incident in the first place. If the young men on both sides of the conflict had been divested of a pestilential masculinity that views violence as a problem solving method, the fangs of white-supremacy – as far as this situation is concerned - would have left the young Black men unscathed. It is unfortunate that we as young Black men grow up in a culture that socializes us to pursue violent confrontation to affirm our masculinity.
I have faith that we, the students of Howard University, will continue to fight for justice for the Jena 6. But as we rally, raise funds, and travel to Louisiana to organize, let us retain a revolutionary vision of justice and liberation that dismantles a white-supremacist capitalist patriarchal order that allowed these events to unfold in the first place.
The case of the Jena 6 in Louisiana proves that white-supremacy is alive and well in this country; it has further highlighted the fact that we live in a fundamentally racist society. It seems as if it takes an event such as this about every two to three years to keep us vigilant and renewed in Black liberation struggle. Much like the assassination of Sean Bell and the genocide in New Orleans, the modern-day lynching of the Jena 6 has brought a much needed conversation about white-privilege and the horrors of being Black in this country back into the mainstream. But the socio-political implications of these events transcend the individuals who compose them.
For instance, as we mourn the brutal death of Sean Bell, we must recognize the hundreds of Black and Brown folks before him who have fallen victim at the hands of state violence. Grassroots organizations - like the Malcolm X Grassroots Movement in Brooklyn, for example - sought justice for the Bell family while incorporating a virulent critique of police brutality.
Similarly, the genocide in New Orleans is not specific to the Gulf Coast . Folks realize that what happened in New Orleans is indicative of a larger historical problem in this country: the continued devaluation of the lives and communities of poor people of color. This is evidenced in what has been termed “Hurricane Columbia” by those who oppose Columbia University ’s expansion into the West Manhattanville neighborhood of New York City , an imperialist expansion that would displace hundreds and destroy a community.
We must enter the struggle for justice for the Jena 6 with the same revolutionary vision. The situation in Jena is not just about the young Black men being unjustifiably thrown into the prison industrial complex for the better part of their lives. This is about a country and an (in)justice system in which the lives of Black and Brown folks are of little importance.
We must take into account the individual Brothers who are being affected by these racist policies; we will organize and we will fight for our Brothers in solidarity. But with this, we must keep our sights fixed on revolutionary goals.
We must strategically incorporate a critique of the prison industrial complex. Our folks disproportionately occupy America ’s prisons. The government invests in our confinement: more money is spent on building prisons than funding inner-city school systems.
We must not shy away from a critique of capitalism. Poor people, who lack the financial power to wield influence and provide themselves adequate defense, tend to fall within the cracks of the prison industrial complex more quickly than their affluent counterparts. Even though the Jena 6 show no particular signs of opulence, we must remember and struggle in the memory of our Brothers and Sisters who do not have the privilege of a national campaign for their freedom and who remain nameless behind the bars of a cell. And what about the violent masculinity that gave rise to this incident in the first place. If the young men on both sides of the conflict had been divested of a pestilential masculinity that views violence as a problem solving method, the fangs of white-supremacy – as far as this situation is concerned - would have left the young Black men unscathed. It is unfortunate that we as young Black men grow up in a culture that socializes us to pursue violent confrontation to affirm our masculinity.
I have faith that we, the students of Howard University, will continue to fight for justice for the Jena 6. But as we rally, raise funds, and travel to Louisiana to organize, let us retain a revolutionary vision of justice and liberation that dismantles a white-supremacist capitalist patriarchal order that allowed these events to unfold in the first place.
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