"The Saudi Marathon Man" and State Power

Kolton shared this blog post by Amy Davidson for the New Yorker with me via Twitter. It is an important addition to our conversation on Tuesday about how quickly the media latched onto "naming" and identifying a specific type as the perpetrator of the Boston marathon explosions.

Please check it out when you can.

Jazz Appreciation Month

In Cortez’s poem, “How Long Has Trane Been Gone,” blues and jazz are referred to as the forgotten black music. With April being Jazz Appreciation Month and my recent visit to New Orleans, it seems appropriate to reflect on the history and art of jazz.

Standing as one of the oldest neighborhoods of free black people, Treme is considered the birthplace of African inspired music. It was one of the first racially mixed areas of New Orleans where African, Creole, and Native American cultures combined to form the city’s unique identity. Brass band music started as a way for slaves to spend time together and celebrate African music traditions. In the late 1800’s jazz was formed within the working-class neighborhoods of New Orleans. It combined African tribal sounds with European melodies, ragtime, church songs and military marches. The use of call-and-response stands today as one of the fundamental African influences of jazz and R&B.

Listen to this http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sq19BZRKmLI

And then this http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=riEszB2m5GA

Ladysmith Black, a South African tribal band, sings traditional call-and-response music, the type that influences jazz. Buddy Bolden, one of the most well-known black ragtime musicians, was a great part of the formation of jazz in New Orleans. His music demonstrates call-and-response as well as improvisation. The combination of marching and tribal music also helped to form parading in black New Orleans culture. At funerals and celebrations, second line parade brass bands represent the music traditions of the city. Jazz funerals are something that we briefly discussed in class, but are an amazing phenomenon in the South. If anyone watched the HBO series Treme, then you have seen Jazz funerals, if not, it is worth taking a look- http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9SzWx79Z9BQ

Cortez’s poem reflects on the remembrance of black music. She argues that music has had a profound affect on black culture- that it’s “trying to make a better tomorrow”- but is only remembered now to “dance, fuck and cry.” She fears that the African American tradition and soul put into jazz and blues is missing from music and listeners today. She asks, “What do you care about history- Black History and John Coltrane.” While reflecting on Jazz Appreciation Month it is important to appreciate the history preserved in music, looking at jazz alone there is a rich story behind its creation. Using Coltrane, a black saxophonist, as a symbol for the struggle and strength behind black music, Cortez asserts that the true meaning of this music has been forgotten.   

Georgia High School to Host their first integrated prom in 2013?

Dave Chappelle: Comedy of Resistance?

Dave said "peace" to Hollywood and left

Most of us are probably familiar with Dave Chappelle's sensationalized exit from comedy; Chappelle turned down a contract valued at $50 million and left to South Africa on an emotional and spiritual trip. The media claimed everything from a "bad laugh" to crack addiction as the cause for Chappelle's flight, but his 2009 interview on Inside the Actor's Studio offers some real insight into what happened to him in Hollywood and why it drove him to escape America. See the full video below. 

Dave Chappelle on Inside the Actor's Studio - Full Version 

The quote below is taken from Lyndsey Wetterberg's dissertation on Chappelle's Show, Dave's comedy Central sketch comedy show. Wetterberg argues that integral to Chappelle's Show's function and mission is an engineered response to a white popular media's definition of black masculinity. She posits in her abstract:

"...my analysis examines the idea of comedy as resistance to dominant society, specifically to race and gender norms and thus to limited expectations and representations of black masculinity. The selected sketches exemplify how humor de-centers popular narrative and positions the world within a marginalized perspective." (Wetterberg 1)

(Here is the citation for anyone interested in reading more from Wetterberg's dissertation)

 Wetterberg, Lyndsey L. “Deconstructing "Chappelle's Show": Race, masculinity, and comedy as resistance”. Minnesota State University, Mankato, ProQuest, UMI Dissertations Publishing, 2012. 1515209.

Keeping this quote in mind, take a look at these three sketches (the names are links) from the show that are discussed in both Wetterberg's piece and on Inside the Actor's Studio: the "Pixie Sketch", the "Frontline Report: Clayton Bigsby" sketch (here's part two), and the "Niggar Family" sketch.

Do you think these sketches "de-center" the focus from the dominant popular narrative on the issues they contain, or are they an extension of that narrative that fails to challenge it?

In my in-class presentation (date tba due to my late arrival to class last Thursday) we will go into Chappelle's personal experience a lot more but it would be great to hear some candid responses to his work here first.

Feel free to share any reactions you have to the Inside the Actor's Studio interview as well, especially regarding Lipton's tone/attitude toward Dave and the sketches he chose to highlight during the interview or his request that Dave dance for him (which is apparently something he asks his guests often but seemed really strange to me).

Tulsa, Oklahoma "The Black Wall Street"

The Black Wall Street refers to a neighborhood in the Greenwood Village of Tulsa. It was the wealthiest black community in the US during its time and arguably to date. Declared a state in 1907, the community was designed to be a safe heaven for blacks to thrive off of their own successes. Over a 16 hour period of race riots the entire community was burned down in 1921. Given the time period of racial segregation and racial tension, the city of Tulsa was not prepared to control the riots nor protect the people of the community. Hundreds of black people were left wounded and without medical attention. The black hospital was burned down and they certainly weren't welcomed into the white hospital. Over 6000 black residents were detained by police and brought to jails in an effort to diffuse the riot. Apparently Tulsa officials thought it was the best way to "protect" the residents at the time. The police department received significant backlash for their this decision. Black people were often arrested for crimes they didn't commit and idea of bringing black people to prison for protection has a long history of negative racial connotations. Out of respect for the residents they should have been brought to a location for temporary shelter and medical attention. The largely successful neighborhood was under constant attack by the surrounding white communities. The attacks were intentional to stunt the growth and progress of the community. After the riots the community was left in shambles with out resources to rebuild it. Tulsa did nothing to assist the residents to rebuild their lives, instead they were left to fend for themselves. I chose to write about Greenwood because it deserve recognition not solely because of the massacre that occurred but because a group of black people were able to successful develop their own sustainable community without relying on white business owners. They established a community that respected black people and their needs. Up until last year I have never heard about this community. It would have been a good lesson to learn as a child the possibilities of success for black people and the power of unifying as a community. I encourage everyone to learn more about the Black Wall Street community. The existence of this community deserves to be to taught in schools.

The Politics of an Image: Bob Dylan and Rubin Carter

The other day in class we mentioned Bob Dylan's relationship with the wrongfully imprisoned Rubin "Hurricane" Carter.  Dylan, who campaigned to get Rubin released from jail through the platform of his protest hit "Hurricane," even introduced this song on his Live 1975 recording with the Rolling Thunder Revue by saying, "If you've got any political pull at all, maybe you can help get this man out of jail and back on the street."*

The story behind "Hurricane" goes: eight years into his incarceration, Carter sent Dylan a copy of his autobiography.  Moved by what he read, Dylan visited Rubin in prison and met with a group of his supporters.  Spurred by his complete conviction that Rubin was innocent, Dylan began writing "Hurricane" with an aim toward drawing more media and popular attention to Rubin's case.

I was talking with my sister about this song the other day, and she mentioned that she'd recently read something online about this image of Dylan meeting Carter in 1975 that struck her as disturbing: she read that this image is completely staged.  Dylan, upon meeting Carter, expressed some disappointment that there were not bars between them; he had hoped for an emotional picture to be taken.  Quick improvisation led to a security gate being pulled from the ceiling and the image of Rubin clinging to the bars, leaning in to talk to his 'champion,' Bob.

Yet even without this story, the politics of the image are intriguing. The lines of the bars serve to draw our eyes to Ruben almost immediately, as he is pressing his hands against them, while Dylan, the larger object, remains removed, almost lost in a white space. Carter is leaning toward Dylan, but Dylan stands some distance away.  Though he is more in focus, Dylan is inscrutable — his eyes are shaded, his arms are at his sides.

Through some light research, I found that the relationship between Carter and Dylan was not what I thought it would be.  Though Dylan's song magnified popular awareness of Carter's case, it was not as though Carter had not also spoken for himself.  In other words, Carter wasn't completely helpless.  This scripted photograph leaves such a bad taste in my mouth, because it seems that Dylan was really just capitalizing on the sentimentality of a white man — a superstar — helping a 'voiceless' black man.

*Of note: Dylan apparently dropped this song from his set lists after his tour with the Rolling Thunder Revue, though Carter was not released until 1985.

Clay’s Monologue in Dutchman

We did not get to Clay’s monologue in Amiri Baraka’s Dutchman during class yesterday, so I wanted to share my initial thoughts here before we talk about it next week. I really enjoyed reading this play and Clay’s monologue in particular. There is a lot going on in Clay's speech here. This monologue marks the instance where Clay finally lets his inner frustration with Lula out into the public space of the subway car. He takes over Lula’s power and control over their interaction in this one instance. Here, Clay points out the major flaws in Lula’s character. For instance, he tells her that, “you don’t understand anything but luxury” (33). I think this line is especially important in that it evokes the broader notion of 'white privilege' and of white America's obsession with money, power, and luxury. Further, Clay calls attention to Lula’s hypocrisy here. In class, we discussed Lula’s view of Clay as a 'pretender,' or a "middle-class fake white man" trying to assimilate into white America (34). Clay argues that, in fact, Lula is the ignorant one here who lacks an understanding of black culture and of the blues. He points out that she cannot even correctly mimic the “belly-rubbing” she attempts to imitate, which is what triggers Clay’s speech to her. Clay says that she should just let him be whoever he wants to be. And, more broadly, he is saying that white people should not interfere with black expression through the arts. Clay ends his speech by saying that, if blacks were to accept the “rationalism and cold logic” of white Westerners, then they, himself included, would just murder whites so as to bring an end to racism in America once and for all (36).

Clay’s speech reminded me a lot of Baraka’s essay “The Revolutionary Theatre.” In “The Black Arts Movement,” Larry Neal helps explain Baraka’s essay and the differences between the “sterility” of white America versus the revolutionary theatre Baraka emphasizes, which focuses instead on the power of change and of the spirit. As we talked about in class, plays represent an important art form in the Black Arts Movement because they represent a social form of art that forces a kind of relationship between the actor and his or her audience. Specifically, Clay’s speech calls the reader’s attention as well as the attention of the background characters in the subway car in Dutchman, in that it creates a certain level of discomfort and shock, especially after his previously passive response to Lula. Overall, Clay’s character is vey nuanced and enigmatic to me. As the name “Clay” suggests, he represents the malleability of black masculinity in white America, black passivity, and the black struggle of assimilation. But Clay also signifies the changeable nature of the revolutionary theatre Baraka talks about. The different possible interpretations of Clay’s character create an interesting dichotomy in Dutchman.