By Arturo R. García
By Tope Fadiran
It’s hard out there for white men on college campuses. At least, that’s what American media would have us believe, given its coverage of the current controversy swirling around Dr. Saida Grundy, a Black scholar recently hired (effective July 1, 2015) by Boston University as an assistant professor of Sociology and African American Studies.
In reality, the way in which Dr. Grundy has been unceremoniously shoved into the spotlight proves the exact opposite: Black women on our campuses, even those who have reached the highest levels of educational achievement, are political and cultural targets simply for existing. There is no other explanation for the fact that this all began with a white man whose response to Grundy’s hiring was to go in search of something he could use to undermine her intellectual and professional standing.
Racialicious is pleased to be covering Facing Race 2014 from Dallas, Texas, on Nov. 14 and 15.
The conference is hosted by Race Forward — formerly known as the Applied Research Center and the publisher of Colorlines. This year, you can follow Arturo as he shares his observations from the event on Twitter. Watch the #FacingRace14 tag or visit Race Forward’s Twitter for more information, as well.
But you can also come here to Racialicious.com over the weekend as we bring you live-streams for each of the four plenary sessions:
- This is How We Do It: Youth Led Racial Justice — Friday, Nov. 14, starting at 9:30 a.m. EST.
- The Facing Race Keynote Address, featuring Dr. Bernice Johnson Reagon, Toshi Reagon, and Tashawn Reagon — Friday, Nov. 14, starting at 4 p.m. EST.
- Roots and Wings: Southern Histories, Legacies and Innovations for the Future — Saturday, Nov. 15, starting at 9:45 a.m. EST.
- The Next Fifty — Saturday, Nov. 15, starting at 4 p.m. EST
There are actually two parts to this. One is, there are troubling racial politics, but it’s not just about men of color. The other racial politics about this are that white women appear the most vulnerable, right, to these menacing men. But this happens to women of color, and women of color have been on the front lines. Three years ago at the Crunk Feminist Collective, we published a video that Girls for Gender Equity did where they had Black teenage girls talking about being harassed, and that video does not have 25 million hits.
— Interview aired on “All in With Chris Hayes,” Oct. 31, 2014.
“Hey … Shorty!” by Girls for Gender Equity NYC can be seen below.
By Arturo R. García
This past weekend saw our owner and publisher Latoya Peterson speak on a panel at IndieCade, a festival and conference celebrating independent game development.
Moderator Shawn Alexander Allen (Treachery in Beatdown City) said that the discussion, “Let’s Do Something About It,” grew from a talk about race and gaming he gave at last year’s event. Joining them on the panel:
- Ashley Alicea, board member for the Puerto Rico chapter of the International Game Developers Association and a game producer for Qlovi
- Code Liberation founder and Tech Under Thirty head Catt Small
- TJ Thomas, director of Alpha Six Productions and a self-identified games activist
- Fatima Zenine Villanueva, a designer and teacher’s assistant for Code Liberation
A Storify of the panel is under the cut.
By Arturo R. García
If you’ll allow for a moment of first-person writing today, I’m happy and proud to announce that, in addition to being part of the team here at The R, I was asked to be part of We Are Comics, a new campaign created by longtime comics pro editor Rachel Edidin over the weekend to spotlight the fact that comics fandom extends far, far beyond the cis-het white male realm often attached to it.
By Guest Contributor Wilfredo Gomez, cross-posted from The Feminist Wire
I recently returned to my alma mater to encounter a rather peculiar and interesting narrative about my legacy. While interacting with former teachers, classmates, and current students, stories were told about the years I spent at the school. One person told a story about how I played varsity basketball during my last year of high school, never having played a single minute. I trained in silence, dedicating time and effort for three years, being overlooked until I finally got my break. I rode the bench and never paid attention to the games, as I was too focused on academics and trying to get somewhere. But in the last game of the season with 15 seconds left on the clock, the captain of the team called a time out and requested I join the team on the court. With the clock winding down to zero, I was told to stand in the corner and wait for a pass.
That pass was delivered as promised and the defense collapsed on me, forcing me to hesitate and give the ball up. The ball came back my way where I dribbled to my left and took a shot over the outstretched arms of two defenders who may as well have been giants. While a blur, the shot went in as time expired, the only two points I scored in my career, and fans rushed the court emptying the stands, lifting me up in celebration of my presence and shot. I was the team’s good luck charm. Another person told a story about how I was confined to a wheel chair and they had fond memories of my racing up and down the hallways as I moved from class to class. They recalled my playing basketball, not playing, and leaning over to my fellow teammates saying that I was headed somewhere. One would think that if these narratives were to have gotten out to the public, they might have attracted the attention of ESPN. These recollections of heroic feats and athletic persistence were only partial to the narratives of the legacy I have left behind.