african american studies - edinburgh university press

African American Studies

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A frican American StudiesSecond Edition

Edited by Jeanette R. Davidson

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Edinburgh University Press is one of the leading university presses in the UK. We publish academic books and journals in our selected subject areas across the humanities and social sciences, combining cutting-edge scholarship with high editorial and production values to produce academic works of lasting importance. For more information visit our website: edinburghuniversitypress.com

© editorial matter and organisation Jeanette R. Davidson, 2010, 2021© the chapters their several authors, 2021

First edition published by Edinburgh University Press in 2010.

Edinburgh University Press Ltd The Tun – Holyrood Road, 12(2f) Jackson’s Entry, Edinburgh EH8 8PJ

Typeset in 11/13 Sabon byIDSUK (DataConnection) Ltd, andprinted and bound in Great Britain.

A CIP record for this book is available from the British Library

ISBN 978 1 4744 8773 3 (hardback)ISBN 978 1 4744 8775 7 (webready PDF)ISBN 978 1 4744 8774 0 (paperback)ISBN 978 1 4744 8776 4 (epub)

The right of Jeanette R. Davidson to be identifi ed as the editor of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988, and the Copyright and Related Rights Regulations 2003 (SI No. 2498).

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Contents

Acknowledgements viiiForeword xNotes on Contributors xiii

1 Introduction 1Jeanette R. Davidson

I HISTORY AND CONTEXT OF AFRICAN AMERICAN STUDIES

2 Danny Glover: Memories from 1968 17Jeanette R. Davidson

3 Pedagogy and Decolonization: Historical Refl ections on Origins of Black Studies in the United States 26Ben Keppel

4 Toward Radical Pan-African Pedagogy and Civic Education 38Greg Graham

5 The “Field and Function” of Africana Studies: Insights from the Life and Writings of W. E. B. Du Bois 53James B. Stewart

II AFRICAN AMERICAN STUDIES: THEORIES AND METHODOLOGIES

6 African American Studies: Discourses and Paradigms 71Perry A. Hall

7 Afrocentricity and Africology: Theory and Practice in the Discipline 84Molefi Kete Asante

8 Revisiting White Privilege: Pedagogy in Black Studies 99Tim Davidson and Jeanette R. Davidson

9 Social Science Research in Africana Studies: Ethical Protocols and Guidelines 118Serie McDougal III

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vi CONTENTS

10 Africana Studies and Oral History: A Critical Assessment 126Leslie M. Alexander and Curtis J. Austin

III SOCIAL RESPONSIBILITY, SERVICE LEARNING AND ACTIVISM

11 Africana Studies and Community Service: Using the STRENGTH Model 141Jeanette R. Davidson and Tim Davidson

12 Africana Studies and Civic Engagement 157Kevin L. Brooks

13 Danny Glover and Manning Marable: Activism Through Art and Scholarship 168Jeanette R. Davidson

14 Contemporary Women of the African Diaspora: Identity, Artistic Expression and Activism 187Ebony Iman Dallas, Marie Casimir and Jeanette R. Davidson

IV SELECTED AREAS OF SCHOLARSHIP IN THE DISCIPLINE

15 He Wasn’t Man Enough: Black Male Studies and the Ethnological Targeting of Black Men in Nineteenth-Century Suffragist Thought 209Tommy J. Curry

16 Reading Black Through the Looking Glass: Decoding the Encoding in African Diasporic Literature 225Georgene Bess Montgomery

17 Diversity and Representations of Blackness in Comic Books 238Grace D. Gipson

18 Black Athletes and the Problematic of Integration in Sport 251Jamal Ratchford

19 African American Music: The Ties That Bind 263Alphonso Simpson Jr.

20 Afrofuturism and the Question of Visual Reparations 280Tiffany E. Barber

21 The Black Studies Movement in Britain 292Kehinde Andrews

Index 303

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14 Contemporary Women of the African Diaspora: Identity, Artistic Expression and Activism Ebony Iman Dallas, Marie Casimir and Jeanette R. Davidson

If you are Black in the United States (or elsewhere in the Diaspora) you have a story that reaches back . . . somewhere . . . to the continent of Africa. Often, we do not know much of our personal history, given that most of us have experienced separation from our deepest roots. Sometimes our stories involve enslavement of our grandparents several generations removed. Sometimes our stories are about colonization, decolonization, seeking asylum, refugee status, immigration or some combination of the above related to loss generated origi-nally by White supremacy.

What we do know about our stories is often poignant, dramatic and ulti-mately productive not only of empathy, but of pride in the miracle of survival, in the tenacity of our ancestors and parents, and awe at the magnitude of their strengths against unspeakable odds. We are indeed their wildest dreams!

The stories of Ebony Iman Dallas and Marie Casimir are presented here. I posed a set of questions to them about their families, key issues of identity, their respective areas of art (painting and dance), their role models, activism and what they teach students as instructors in an African and African American Studies department to which I had recruited them. These are their responses.

Their stories challenge us to think deeply about the (sometimes) complexity of identity for people of the Diaspora, and take us on a journey across historical infl uences, the impact of immigration policies, separation, racialized violence against Black bodies and ensuing cover-ups, to present-day role models and artistic production. Theirs are stories of strength and beauty, of family love, per-severance, talent, commitment to artistic collaborations, social justice activities and, above all, hope. These are intertwined with understanding issues of power; transcending borders, real and imagined, aesthetic and cultural; and recognizing linkages with present-day challenges and triumphs. It is hoped that readers see some refl ections of themselves in these stories, and are inspired to thoughtfully explore the unfolding of their own lives of meaning. How do they experience

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188 EBONY IMAN DALLAS, MARIE CASIMIR AND JEANETTE R. DAVIDSON

identity in all its hybridity? How do they experience commonality with other people of African descent? How do they empower themselves? Who inspires them? What will they do with their lives to promote racial justice and overall human rights? What will be their legacy?

Jeanette R. Davidson

On Family and Identity

JRD – Ebony and Marie, you know I want to ask you about your art, which I know locates you in the geographic areas of Oklahoma City, Chicago, Oakland, Somalia, Ethiopia and Haiti; your activism; and your teaching. I know both of you are very strongly tied to your respective family histories, so let me start there. How much do your personal histories inspire what you do?

EID – My personal history inspires my work a great deal. Besides my family, art provides a connective bridge between homes. My mother and adoptive father raised me in Oklahoma and my biological father was from Hargeisa, Somaliland (a semi-autonomous region located in northern Somalia). Oklahoma introduced me to the art of painting while Somaliland honed and defi ned my skills. My love of bold and bright colors was innate, but in Hargeisa I learned to love the beauty in imperfection—the fi ne art of improvisation in daily life. This carried over into my art as I learned to relax and accept the imperfect beauty of life. I drew inspi-ration from henna artists back home and their ability to freehand designs with no erasers in sight.

I am blessed and grateful to have a big, supportive family. I grew up in a community of cousins, aunts and uncles within reach, and lean on them for love and support. Art has always been a passion of mine, so once I began to draw human faces I chose models closest to me and shared them as gifts. I am currently working on a painting series and memoir that focuses on my late father and my story. I choose to honor my family in the most powerful way I know how—with the stroke of my paintbrush.

JRD – So can you talk about how your father’s story appears in your latest work?

EID – My latest body of artwork, titled “Through Abahay’s Eyes: Through My Father’s Eyes,” will be included in my memoir. This story focuses on the life of my biological father, Said Ibrahim Osman, and mine. In the 1970s, my father came to the United States for educational purposes. He was murdered on cam-pus by police offi cers. Our family was told that he committed suicide and I con-tinued to believe this well into my twenties. When I learned the truth about his death, I vowed to investigate and share his story. This body of work is a form of social justice. Nothing will ever bring him back to us, but the police report will no longer fi nalize his legacy. His true story will be immortalized through the published pages of my book.


CONTEMPORARY WOMEN OF THE AFRICAN DIASPORA 189

Figure 14.1 Kernel of Eternity, by Ebony Iman Dallas

Step by step, sharing this work gets easier, yet it remains a challenge to discuss in great depth and maintain dry eyes. The word “suicide” discussed in the context of my father is extremely diffi cult due to years of built shame and embarrassment I felt since childhood. I avoided discussing him as a child because inevitably people would ask how he died. Only in the last year or so have I discussed this publicly.



People react to my work with tears and smiles. “Through Abahay’s Eyes” debuted at Paseo Plunge Gallery in Oklahoma City, Oklahoma then moved to Joyce Gordon Gallery in Oakland, California. In each space, my paintings were accompanied with relevant excerpts from my memoir. Visitors have expressed the complex and often painful connections between our story and their own. My goal is not to leave them with a sense of hopelessness, but of hope. However, I do want them to feel and empathize, as emotions are often omitted from routine news briefi ngs. Stories covering police brutality begin to blur and combine as we become desensitized to them. I want people to understand the multilayered impact this has had on myself, and our family, while sharing our resilience.

MC – My personal history is tied to migration, hybrid identities and separa-tion bridged with deep love. I am an immigrant, I am Diaspora. I am Haitian American, and this impacts how I show up in the world and is a recurring theme in my work. Even if it is not obvious, it informs my process.

My immediate family was split in half during our migration from Haiti to the U.S. following the aftermath of “Baby Doc’s” ousting in 1986. We became one of the many casualties of the Duvalier dictatorships and the instability that followed their twenty-nine years in power. Approximately 220,000 Haitians immigrated to the United States between 1960 and 1990, resulting in a major brain drain, and the creation of eventually a 1 million Diaspora outside of the country.

Unable to receive visas for a family of seven, my parents were forced to choose which children would migrate to the States. They chose the girls. My sister Paule, age 18, and myself, age 5. We moved to the States with the hopes of being reunited with my three brothers (age 10, 12 and 19) shortly thereafter. Our visa petitions process dragged on for years. My parents eventually lost thousands of dollars and were taken advantage of by a supposed friend who was working with an immigration lawyer. In the meantime, we missed birthdays, fi rst commu-nions, graduations and fi lled in the distance exchanging cassette and VHS tapes. Nine years later we reunited with my brothers in stages, one at a time. We had to rebuild our relationships, and some never recovered the distance. There was an inherent closeness, and a huge divide, present in our lives. That duality felt like my own hybrid identity of a Haitian American whose mother tongue was imperfect but who was always looking to my native culture for answers.

I share this Diaspora origin story because my family history and my immigrant story are integral to my performance/movement work. I recently realized I make work as an offering, in hopes that Ayiti1 will welcome me back. I am constantly trying to reclaim Haiti as mine, and trying to under-stand the multiple generations of family that show up in my work.

It is present when I am reimagining an open-air market scene from my grandmother’s childhood in 1920s U.S.-occupied Haiti . . . or tracing the path of raw cacao (Chocolat Ayisien) between my mother and me .



On Artistic Expressions Across the African Diaspora

JRD – Marie and Ebony: I know you are both artists who engage in your art in the United States and also in different parts of the African Diaspora. Can you talk a bit about how your work in Oklahoma City, Chicago and Oakland, for example, impacts your work in Haiti, Somalia, Ethiopia, and vice versa?

MC – Part of my art practice focuses on producing cultural programming that provides others experiences that cross imaginary borders. To have experi-ences, especially in Black spaces that shift our perceptions of what we think we already know, is powerful.

In 2016, I created Djaspora Productions, a company with a mission to support and connect work within Diasporic communities, bridging work by U.S. creatives and cultural workers across states, but also across seas and oceans.

In 2018, we traveled to Haiti in partnership with Black Arts Retreat and Links Hall, facilitating a cultural exchange for a large group of artists, cultural workers and educators from New York, New Jersey and Chicago. I am always thinking about how we can close the Diaspora gap.

For some of the younger artists, this trip was their fi rst time outside of the States and many others, their fi rst time in Haiti. How appropriate that their fi rst experience is one that placed them in direct conversation with artists and community members—not as missionaries, or crisis journalists or volunteers, but on equal footing as makers and global citizens. On a global scale, Haiti is known as the fi rst independent Black nation in the western hemisphere and as one of the economically poorest countries in the world, exasperated by political unrest. We either look at its revolutionary past or undesirable present. Neither of which seem tangible to Americans.

As an artist with ties to both Haiti and the U.S.—my commitment to blurring the imaginary borders is to highlight the cultural production of the island so that outsiders recognize what Haiti has contributed to the international art scene, past and present. Those who study Black Dance are familiar with the contributions of choreographer/anthropologist Katherine Dunham2 and dancer and fi lm-maker Maya Deren3 to the fi eld of Haitian dance and Vodou studies.4 Katherine Dunham takes what she learns in Haiti and presents it on international stages, and she takes such great care of the culture and even becomes a mambo5 that Haitians claim her as an adopted daughter of Ayiti. While their contributions are integral to under-standing the transference of Haitian cultural dances and practices to the rest of the world, I think it’s important to recognize that the information is spread through intermediary sources. In addition to the knowledgeable and respectful outside sources, how can we get what we need from the source?



My work with HaitiDansCo, a company based out of Cap-Haitien led by choreographer Dieufel Lamisere, is an attempt to facilitate that direct line. He is a student of Odette Wilner, one of the more important teach-ers and choreographers in Haiti beginning in the 1970s. What I believe is occasionally missing from our larger conversations, is the recognition of all the Haitian choreographers who were cultivating well-trained dancers in Haiti (often with the support of American choreographers) and occasion-ally traveling outside of its borders to further the work. I will name a few of them here: Jean-Léon Destiné, Viviane Gauthier, Odette Wilner, Emerante de Pradines Morse.6 They trained the next generation of choreographers in folklore, modern and ballet, both within Haiti and in the Diaspora, includ-ing Jeanguy Saintus, Nadia Dieudonne, Jean Appolon, Mikerline Pierre, Jean-René Delsoin and Dieufel Lamisere. I believe cultural and economic equity requires that we acknowledge all the infl uences and put our capital toward that equity.

So, we departed for Haiti December 26th, 2018. It’s New Year’s Day and after big bowls of soup joumou7 for lunch, we shuf-

fl e across the wood fl oor, our backs rise and fall, undulating a newly acquired Yanvalou.8 Dieufel encourages us to push our bodies to be in concert with the drum, with the fl oor and with each other. The next day is Ancestors Day and

Figure 14.2 Photograph by Sephora Monteau



together Haitians, folks from the Black Diaspora and Euro-Americans climb to the top of Citadelle Laferrière (a World UNESCO site), the largest fortress in the Americas (built between 1805 and 1820 by King Henri Christophe as a defense against the French for a newly independent Haiti). It was a symbol of strength for the new and fl edgling country. Citadelle restorer and historian Frédérick Mangonès says “In spite of the failure of our people to build a strong nation, the Citadel, undeniably the work of Haitian people, remains a symbol of what this nation might have been.”9

We visit Bwa Kayiman, a sacred site believed to be the origin of the Haitian Revolution, where maroons and Vodou practitioners prayed and danced in preparation for a full-blown revolt.10

Back in the HaitiDansCo open-air dance studio, Florida-based choreog-rapher Onye Ozuzu looks around our circle after a shared performance and says, “Standing on top of the Citadelle, I was reminded that we resisted, we fought the whole time.” I smile. This is what Haiti and artists like Dieufel have to offer. A reminder of the internal and external power of Black production, whether it is carving a fortress out of the side of a mountain or creating a dance studio in rural Vaudreuil, it is its own form of resistance. I wonder qui-etly to myself “What is the art that will come from this moment in time, this exchange of sweat and ideas?”

Figure 14.3 Photograph by Julie Verlinden



EID – In 2010, I founded Afrikanation Artists Organization as an extension of my design thesis titled “Painted Bridges.” “Painted Bridges” explored ways to unify the African American, Afro-Caribbean, and fi rst- and second-generation continental Africans through art and design for community activism.

As an undergrad, I recall searching for images of Africa online and through stock photography books. Within a short period, a disturbing narrative was revealed. The mainstream media is fi lled with negative images of Africa, which ultimately tint the lens between viewers and the subjects of their gaze.11 Recycled images depicting starvation, war and famine were only countered by images of a diverse animal kingdom, safely captured from distant safari Jeeps. There was a lack of desire shown to understand the people, their traditions, religions and cul-tures. This imbalanced portrayal has fueled divisions amongst African descen-dants globally. From Jim Crow-era minstrel shows and The Birth of a Nation to infomercials depicting helpless individuals with extended hands, the sum of the imagery supports an unbalanced narrative of Africans “as passive, tragic victims”12 no matter how well-meaning some may be. My search for images of Somalia, specifi cally, led to a constant reminder of the hell that exists, war and starvation. Buried between images of goats whose skin thinly covered protrud-ing bones was an intergenerational image of Somali women dancing in colorful dresses with coordinated scarves covering their heads. The fabric seemed to fl oat like silk across a gentle, warm breeze and their smiles exhibited pure joy.

I chose to paint them. I chose to celebrate their humanity in a world with closed eyes. I chose to positively focus on the African landscape, diverse cul-tures and its people through my art. I paint to inspire and celebrate stories of Africa’s descendants globally, as an offering. A celebration of our stories, our resilience, and our joy.

Afrikanation was designed to create a space for collaboration, network-ing and artist support. We accomplished this through the International Art Exchange Project, where American, Ethiopian and Somali artists have collabo-rated through visual art, poetry, music and documentary fi lm-making. We have also bridged connections through the Afrikanation Art Supply Donation Drive. This call for artists, local businesses, educational institutions and museums to collect art supplies in the U.S. and South Africa has supported Millwood Middle School in Oklahoma City, Voices for Street Children in Addis Ababa, youth at Hargeisa Children’s Orphanage and professional artists in Hargeisa.

On Special Pieces

JRD – Marie and Ebony, would you talk about art pieces/dance pieces that mean the most to you and why these are of particular signifi cance, and would you discuss your process in imagining these pieces?

MC – I have a performance/food installation piece called Chocolat Lakay13 that I have been performing in various forms for the past fi ve years. It never feels like it’s done, perhaps because the inspiration for the piece itself is ongoing. It’s



part interactive cooking class, part storytelling and part movement. The piece is about how my mother has been sending me raw Haitian Cacao in the mail and by other delivery methods since I left her house for college. I used it to make Haitian hot chocolate, my comfort drink, a reminder of home and Sundays.

I usually begin the piece by pounding raw cacao with a pestle and mortar.

tap, tap,tap, tap,

tap, tap, taptapTap

The movement travels from the pestle to my feet and now we are moving, we are grooving and making kitchen dances. The chocolate stands in as a device for talking about my personal relationship with my mother and the strength of the kitchen ritual. I weave the story as I add the cinnamon, brown sugar, milk, butter, star anise, salt, milk, cayenne and fi nally cacao. Each ingredient that is added to the pot moves the story along. This is how my mother shared stories about our family and her childhood. Her stories start, stop, meander; she trails off as she tastes the sauce on the back of her hand. Within the safety of the kitchen, I could ask questions about topics that were usually off limits. In those moments, my mother let down her tough exterior and let me in on the past.

I try to capture the natural rhythm of the kitchen and my interpretation of my mother’s movements in the piece. I invite the audience to participate in the creation of the piece, reciting ingredients. I hope it conjures their own memo-ries of being in the kitchen with family and what they have learned between the stirring, peeling, chopping and tasting.

Art has a way of transporting us. I don’t need everyone to go exactly where I go—but hopefully, they remember their own version of home. The bonus is that the room smells like chocolate when I am done, and everyone gets to taste the fi nal product. Sense-memory is so strong—I know the audience is feeling and remembering something connected to that taste.

EID – My journalism background taught me the power of images, and “Shine,” one of my favorite pieces, is a celebration of beauty. It is a celebration of self-love and confi dence in spite of recycled images of beauty published in magazines and television that do not look like you. The woman depicted in “Shine” is confi dent, gorgeous, and her colorful wings refl ect a combination of attributes that make her a one-of-a-kind gift to the world. Her personal-ity, passion, strengths, weaknesses, goals and dreams should be celebrated. In America, Black skin is not celebrated. Self-confi dence, love and acceptance sometimes feel like acts of rebellion. Like the words chanted by James Brown, “Say it Loud, I’m Black and I’m Proud,” reminded us of the power of self-pride despite a world who threatened to beat it out of us.



Figure 14.4 Shine, by Ebony Iman Dallas

On Arts and Activism

JRD – Ebony, I know that you are an activist. Can you talk about your art and your activism?

EID – While working as an art director at an advertising agency, I realized my passion for pro bono projects over many of the products we were paid to sell.



I realized a desire to share ideas and information that positively impacted lives. People inspire me to create. Their stories of heroism and resilience provide hope. The three major bodies of art I created were focused on individual tales of hero-ism. The fi rst was “Legends: Oklahoma, and Beyond.” This included portraits of Clara Luper,14 Gabby Giffords,15 Gandhi, a mother and child, and my father. Years later my “Women in War Zones” series focused solely on women’s issues and included portraits of Malala Yousafzai,16 local breast cancer survivors Lori Klarenbeek and Rhonda Hudson. You don’t need a name like Malala for your story to inspire others. Everyday people inspire me, and I love sharing stories so that others, too, might fi nd strength in them. After learning about my father’s murder, Lori said that portraits of my mother and I should have graced gallery walls besides hers as our story, too, was a tale of strength and inspiration. I have always believed that my mother was strong, but often failed to recognize the strength within myself. I now live in a place where I am comfortable sharing our family story with “Through Abahay’s Eyes.”

MC – I like that you included local women in your series. It’s a good reminder that you don’t have to be a recognizable fi gure to be a symbol of strength. You can be a woman surviving breast cancer in Oklahoma.

EID – In a similar fashion, I seek to uplift and inspire others through art. In September of 2018, I participated in an exhibition titled “The Black Woman is God,” in San Francisco, California. This show was curated by Bay Area art-ist Karen Seneferu and Melorra Green,17 co-director of the African American Art and Culture Complex in San Francisco, California. Together they created an exhibition that was also “a movement-building platform that explores the intersections of race and gender, dismantling racist and patriarchal notions that devalue Black women’s contributions to society.” This show featured fi fty Black women artists “that pay homage to their complex creative practices that have infl uenced the world but [are] overlooked because of their race, class, and gender.”18

As a part of this exhibition, I created a piece titled “Love Sets Free,” which features the goddess of love, Oshun, of the Yoruba religion. There she exhib-ited love in its purest form as she released two butterfl ies and blessed them with the knowledge of love as a choice, not an obligation. This painting utilized tra-ditional religious iconography to highlight the holy, sacred goddess. As Black artists, it is important that we share our stories as authentically as possible. To share our stories is to give light and power to voices often marginalized and muffl ed in the media mainstream. We are descendants of ancient cave painters who offer a glimpse into a world that existed thousands of years before we breathed its air. Our work will document stories long beyond our death.

JRD – Ebony, I know also that you were involved with other artists in the OKC (Oklahoma City) Artists for Justice. The group was instrumental in attracting attention to the case against a police offi cer who ultimately was found guilty for preying on and raping Black women in the city. Can you talk



about why so much energy (that actually made all the difference in the case being investigated, and the outcome) came from artists, and mostly women artists at that?

EID – The last survivor was attacked, by former Offi cer Holtzclaw,19 a few blocks away from my aunt’s home. She was our neighbor. She could have been my aunt, my mother, my sister or myself. Black women felt a collec-tive sense of hurt, outrage and betrayal as each survivor looked like us. Poet Grace Franklin and dancer Candace Liger founded OKC Artists for Justice20 to raise awareness of the case brought against Holtzclaw and to support those hurt by him. Together, Grace and Candace connected the greater com-munity by using art as awareness-building tools. Artist Tiffany Nicole, a founding member, painted to spread awareness about this case, and I did too. Hundreds showed up and protested throughout court proceedings as a result of everyone’s hard work. Poet Trina Robinson and I co-wrote an article for Art Focus magazine to highlight the great work of the founders, and later I joined the board of directors. Art is an extremely powerful tool that OKC Artists for Justice uses well.

JRD – Would you talk please about your latest public works, Ebony?

Figure 14.5 Four Winds, by Ebony Iman Dallas



EID – Recently I completed a mural in north-east Oklahoma City, dedicated to Black women, and I call it “The Four Winds.” It highlights the power Black women hold as the woman blows the wind to the north, east, south and west directions. If we believe what the mainstream media tells us about ourselves, that would mean our lives are not worth fi ghting or prosecuting for. It is up to us to recognize our own value and move in the world with confi dence in know-ing our power. This piece is dedicated to the late Breonna Taylor and Sandra Bland, who were both victims of police brutality.

Figure 14.6 New Oklahoma History, by Ebony Iman Dallas



I also have a piece, “New Oklahoma History,” that I have dedicated to all of the children who have lost a parent to police violence. It is a painted mask, made from historic newspaper clippings, that started out as a personal piece, focused on my father, Said Osman, but at the time I created it, I was not emo-tionally equipped to speak about him publicly. I began to focus on Terence Crutcher,21 a Tulsa native who was shot and killed while seeking help as his car stalled in the middle of the road. His picture is highlighted at the crown of the mask. This tragic event was caught on fi lm, unlike my father’s. Regard-less, his murderer remains free. This piece is being used to help publicize the University of Oklahoma’s commemoration events next year of the 1921 Tulsa Race Massacre.

On Inspirational Role Models

JRD – Both of you have spoken about people who have fi gured as infl uences in your work. Are there other artists who have been role models to you or who have inspired you? What did you learn from them?

EID – Mr. Harry Belafonte22 is the epitome of a lifetime artist/activist. Mr. Bela-fonte has brought generations of artists together to promote civil and human rights. In response to the devastating East African drought of the 1980s, he persuaded musicians to collaborate and sing “We Are the World” to raise funds for medicine, food and water.

In 2016, I attended the Many Rivers to Cross Music Festival, which was dedicated to the promotion of “racial and social justice.” This was organized by members of Sankofa,23 a non-profi t organization founded by Mr. Belafonte. This two-day festival included an interdisciplinary group of artists includ-ing John Legend, Common, Dave Matthews, Sonia Sanchez, Carlos Santana, Danny Glover and Public Enemy. Each artist shared personal insights, poetry and music that put a spotlight on police brutality and a desire to end mass incarceration. Visual artists created a “Social Justice Village Mural City” where they painted powerful images in support of the cause.

As Mr. Belafonte said, “the deep truth is that, to be an artist is to be a prophet of truth.” As artists, we have a responsibility to share the truth of the world around us.

Looking further back, I am also inspired by the legacy of the Harlem Renaissance. The battle of ownership rights to the African narrative and its descendants predate nineteenth-century minstrel show posters depicting Blacks as lazy, “happy-go-lucky” characters. Realizing a need for fi rst-hand narration, the Harlem Renaissance was formed in direct reply. Artists of the Harlem Renaissance found themselves painting within lines drawn by W. E. B. Du Bois and Alain Locke. Du Bois called for artists to highlight Black culture in “the noblest of light” as Locke declared artists of African descent should emancipate themselves from the belief that they must replicate typical



European imagery and adopt a more geometric, less fi gurative style of their African ancestors.24 Both Locke and Du Bois were determined to counter Jim Crow propaganda portraying African descendants as “inferior” with images that celebrate African American culture and heritage.

MC – Most of my direct inspiration comes from artists I have met or worked with, and they are inspired by wonderful and impressive artistic lineages.

Sharon Bridgforth is someone whose work I greatly admire. She is an award-winning writer/director and creates ritual/jazz theater. The fi rst time I worked with her, in 2011, was as a participant of her Theatrical Jazz Institute in connection with DePaul University and Links Hall in Chicago.

Bridgforth asked us, “What is the work you need to make to save your own life?” She was passing on a directive given to her by an elder maker. WOW! The task was weighty but direct. She wanted us to make art that felt urgent. This is how she moves through the world, and so we worked at responding to her call.

A few years later, I played the role of Big-Chief in “River See,” Sharon’s answer to that question. Sharon wrote, composed and directed the series of blues stories that take place, just before the great migration, on a riverboat and juke joint. The stories centered around “SEE,” a young queer woman who is trying to fi nd herself, and her mother, who has gone north. She has the help of rowdy spirit guides, elders and shake-dancers. The piece relies on fl uid timelines, an improvisational chorus, audience participation, Yoruba ancestral practices and movements inspired by African American circle dances.

If you are not well versed in cyclical timelines of Yoruba people,25 or many Sub-Saharan African peoples, this kind of performance can be dizzying. Sha-ron does not feel the need to translate for the audience. She believes that the witness/participants (what she calls the audience) will grab onto something familiar as the piece swells, spins, rises and falls. This is the guiding rule I hold onto in my practice. Do not explain—let folks have their own experiences. I think there is sometimes an urge to over-explain when we are creating work rooted in Diasporic traditions in the U.S. It’s a result of the dominant culture’s lack of multicultural competency. Some of the most interesting and experimen-tal works by Black artists are unique to their experiences, and everyone catches up in due time.

I look to Bridgforths’s artistic inspirations of composer Butch Morris,26 playwright Ntozake Shange,27 choreographer Jawole Willa Jo Zollar and the late Obie Award-winning actor, director, playwright Laurie Carlos28 for examples.

The work of Urban Bush Women, led by Bessie Award-winning choreogra-pher Jawole Willa Jo Zollar, continues to evolve and impacts how I work as an experimental artist. The company has created seminal dance theater pieces that disregard genre. Zollar and her company make contemporary work using multiple tools from theater, dance to music. They pull from modern and



contemporary technique, West-African dance, hip-hop, jazz, Caribbean and Latin infl uences amongst others.

We can see a mixture of infl uences highlighted in Zollar’s 2004 work, “Walking with Pearl—African Diaries,” which was created using diary entries from legendary choreographer and anthropologist Pearl Primus’ research trips to Africa in the 1940s and 50s. Zollar makes reference to Pearl’s modern work, African movement and her own contemporary style. Urban Bush Women is constantly upending the status quo and challenging the defi nitions of “Black dance.”

I am inspired by the network of Black experimental artists that have an affi n-ity for pulling from the body and spirit archives while forging new territory. We see the infl uence of playwright Ntozake Shange on the page in Bridgforth’s work, or hints of Diane McIntyre in Jawole’s work, and then you see the next generation of makers and we can see their impact. I see Zollar’s infl uences in the work of choreographers Onye Ozuzu or Nora Chipuamire29 (both have worked with Urban Bush Women) or the ritual nature of choreographer Ni’Ja Whitson’s 2011 “root shock,” and how it links back to Sharon’s Theatrical Jazz teachings. We are constantly creating new work and pulling bits of the past—possibly mixed in with the future, inspired by the maker who has yet to be born. We are creating on an African timeline.

On Working with Students

JRD – You both engage in very meaningful work in the classroom with stu-dents. What are the key elements you want to convey to students? What do you want them to learn in your classrooms? How is your love for art and dance intertwined and enhanced by your knowledge of Black Studies? How do these come together in the classroom?

MC – I begin every semester by asking my students “What do you think you know about Africa?” “What do you know?” and “What don’t you know?” We establish a baseline of our understanding of continental Africa and the Dias-pora. The education that students have received, both formal and non-formal, about Africa and its Diaspora is varied in the U.S. Africa is not just absent from K–12 education in many places, but sometimes, when it is included, the information is inaccurate. So, some of the work is reframing the culture for the students, while agreeing that we have different foundations for our knowledge. What’s beautiful is when students realize they had access to African concepts the whole time—they just didn’t know how to fi nd the visible connections. For example, they begin to understand the hip-hop dance battle circle as a con-tinuum of the Ring Shout, the oldest African American performance tradition surviving on the North American continent.30 They can recognize the function of choreographer Rashida Bumbray’s Ring Shout piece in rapper Common’s “Black America” video as a healing movement ritual to reckon with the death



of Freddie Gray, a Black man who died in police custody after having his spine broken.

While I want them to learn about polyrhythm, fl uidity, isolation and various footwork techniques, I also want them to learn the foundations that have contributed to the resilience of Black cultural production in the Americas.

African people have used music and dance as a form of communication since the beginning; communication with the living, the dead, the spirits and heavens. Ewe Master Drummer C. K. Ladzekpo says that polyrhythm is our way of trying to make sense of the chaos in life, and also recognizing that the tension is necessary.

Black people have cultural wealth that exists far outside of a European lens, because we existed and created before European contact. At the same time, our cultural retention is one of the factors that contributed to our survival and our ability to have a signifi cant infl uence on the Western world.

The body as an archive is important in my class. Students understand that Black history is held in the body, and as Black people, we can access the archive. It’s evident in Brazilian Capoeira that we can trace back to Angola, or Yoruba infl uences in Haitian Vodou dances that we can trace back to Nigeria; and Second Line footwork that looks like Bata ritual footwork in Cuba. We celebrate the remix! We understand the sampling that creates something new, something dope, something hybrid.

EID – The diversity and beauty of continental and Diasporic African art is what I am excited to share with my students. “Art History” often neglects to acknowledge and revere the true impact African art has and continues to make in our world. You, Dr. Davidson, encouraged Marie and me to share personal experiences and fi ndings. Students often expressed surprise when learning about Lalibelan rock-hewn churches of Ethiopia. Many wondered why they had yet to hear about the well-preserved, 8,000-year-old Laas Geel cave paintings in Somaliland.

I want my students to learn in a diverse sensory experience. In my classroom we listen to artist interviews, explore the texture of Ethiopian textiles with our hands and examine original paintings by artists in the African Diaspora while sipping Somali tea. This is my effort to transport students beyond current lines of comfort and to experience cultures that may not be their own.

Notes

1. Haitian Creole spelling of Haiti, meaning “Land of high mountains.” 2. Katherine Dunham Center for Arts and Humanities, http://kdcah.org/kather-

ine-dunham-biography/ (accessed 3 September 2019). Katherine Dunham was an African American choreographer and scholar who revolutionized American dance beginning in the 1930s by going to the roots of black dance and rituals, transforming them into signifi cant artistic choreography that speaks to all. She is



credited for bringing Caribbean and African infl uences to a European-dominated dance world.

3. Maya Deren was an experimental fi lm-maker and dancer who documented Vodou rituals and dances in Haiti between 1947 and 1951. Her work became seminal for scholars studying Haitian Vodou.

4. See Lois Wilcken, “The Sacred Music and Dance of Haitian Vodou from Temple to Stage and the Ethics of Representation,” Latin American Perspectives 32.1 (2005), 193–210.

5. A priestess in the Vodou religion/system. 6. Allison E. Francis, “Serving the Spirit of the Dance: A Study of Jean-Léon Destiné,

Lina Mathon Blanchet, and Haitian Folkloric Traditions,” Journal of Haitian Studies 15.1/2 (2009), 304–15.

7. Haitian pumpkin soup eaten on New Year’s Day, which is also Haitian Indepen-dence Day.

8. Haitian Vodou dance associated with the deity Damballah, characterized by serpent-like movement of the spine and arms.

9. Frédérick Mangonès, “The Citadel as Site of Haitian Memory,” Callaloo 15.3 (1992), 857–61. DOI:10.2307/2932029.

10. Ibid.11. Guy Debord, “Separation Perfected,” in The Society of the Spectacle, transl. Donald

Nicholson-Smith (New York: Zone Books, 1995), 12.12. Robert F. Stock, Africa South of the Sahara: A Geographical Interpretation, 3rd

ed. (New York: Guilford Press, 2014). 13. Lakay means “home” in Haitian Kreyol.14. Clara Luper was a Civil Rights leader and schoolteacher who organized the sit-in

movement in Oklahoma City, Oklahoma with several members of the NAACP Youth Council, in addition to protests and boycotts.

15. Gabby Giffords is a former member of the United States House of Representatives representing Arizona. She survived an assassination attempt which left her with a severe brain injury. Ms. Giffords and her husband Mark Kelly have since founded Americans for Responsible Solutions and Giffords organizations to support gun control.

16. Malala Yousafzai is a young Pakistani activist who was shot on her school bus by a member of the Taliban for promoting girls’ rights to education.

17. Melorra Green is co-director of the African American Art and Culture Complex in San Francisco.

18. “The Black Woman is God,” “About,” www.theblackwomanisgod.com/about (accessed 30 November 2019).

19. Former Offi cer Daniel Holtzclaw of the Oklahoma City Police Department was convicted of sexually assaulting eight out of thirteen African American women who testifi ed against him. Holtzclaw was a patrol offi cer on the north-east side of Oklahoma City—a predominantly African American portion of the city, where the assaults took place.

20. OKC Artists for Justice is a non-profi t, 501(c)(3) organization that works to end violence against women of color. OKC Artists for Social Justice have received several awards and honors for their work. In addition to activism before, dur-ing and after the court proceedings, the group established community meet-ings including one where they brought Attorney Barbara Arnwine and Professor



Kimberlé Crenshaw to discuss the legal case and to help local people process the trauma that was felt city-wide, and to facilitate renewal and strength.

21. See Chapter 8 for more discussion of the killing of Terence Crutcher. 22. Harry Belafonte is an award-winning singer, actor and activist who utilizes his

platform to promote social justice across the world. He helped organize the 1963 March on Washington, the Grammy Award-winning song “We Are the World,” and was very active in the Anti-Apartheid Movement.

23. Sankofa is an organization founded by Harry Belafonte that addresses issues of injustice that disproportionately affect the disenfranchised, oppressed and underserved through art, culture and media.

24. Sharon F. Patton, African American Art (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1998), 118.

25. The Yoruba people are an ethnic group of more than 40 million people who share a language and culture across Nigeria, Benin and Togo.

26. Butch Morris, an American cornetist, composer and conductor who created a distinctive form of large-ensemble music built on collective improvisation.

27. Ntozake Shange is a revolutionary playwright, who created “For Colored Girls Who Have Considered Suicide/When the Rainbow is Enuf” in 1976.

28. Laurie Carlos is an Obie Award-winning performer and director who was an important force in avant-garde theater in New York from the 1970s–90s.

29. Onye Ozuzu and Nora Chipuamire are contemporary choreographers and educa-tors, who occasionally work in hybrid styles of movement.

30. Art Rosenbaum, Margo Newmark Rosenbaum, Johann S. Buis and McIntosh County Shouters, Shout Because You’re Free: The African American Ring Shout Tradition in Coastal Georgia (Athens: University of Georgia Press, 1998).


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