By Arturo R. García

Not long after Adrienne Keene’s column last week, comedian Daniella Pineda sent us this spot-on mock advert subverting “Urban Infitters” and the like.

The video’s only 1:37 long, so I don’t want to spoil it, but here’s the set-up: designer DW Díaz (Pineda) walks us thru her new line, inspired by a recent viewing of Legends Of The Fall, and her realization that “Native Americans are so cute!” And from there things turn toward the fashionably horrifying. Enjoy!

Like, late night I’m on a first class flight
The only brother in sight the flight attendant catch fright
I sit down in my seat, 2C
She approach officially talkin about, “Excuse me”
Her lips curl up into a tight space
Cause she don’t believe that I’m in the right place
Showed her my boarding pass, and then she sort of gasped
All embarrassed put an extra lime on my water glass
An hour later here she comes by walkin past
“I hate to be a pest but my son would love your autograph”
(Wowwww.. Mr. Nigga I love you, I have all your albums!..) [...]

For us especially, us most especially
A Mr Nigga VIP jail cell just for me
“If I knew you were coming I’d have baked a cake”
Just got some shoe-polish, painted my face
They say they want you successful, but then they make it stressful
You start keepin pace, they start changin up the tempo

—”Mr. Nigga,” Mos Def featuring Q-Tip

Recently, I was invited to speak at a major feminist event.

It was for a cause I cared deeply about, and I would share the stage with some of the best recognized figures in feminism.

And yet…I hesitated.

Less than three years ago, I would have jumped at this opportunity, delighted to be invited, honored to be included, proud to make my contribution. But that was then.

Now, I read the email with a healthy dose of suspicion.  Why did they want to invite me? They mentioned receiving my name on referral from another marquee named feminist, which made me wonder why the referral was needed.  Did they really need more speakers at this late date? Or did they need to add some color to yet another stage that was sure to be full of white women?

I also instantly felt guilty.  Was I projecting? Over reacting? After all, this was a short notice event. Isn’t the cause more important than my waffling feelings about mainstream, movement oriented feminism? Why was I instantly suspicious of their intent? Can’t I give people the benefit of the doubt for once?

The emotional see-saw over my decisions to participate in feminist focused events has been my constant companion for close to a year or so now, but it took on a new dimension when Jessica Valenti decided to leave Feministing.  That night, I was at a cocktail meetup, when one of my friends grabbed my hand and asked if I heard the news.  I’m a lot more removed from the blogosphere at large these days (our transformation is all consuming at the moment) so I hadn’t seen or heard about the post.  My friend, who is another African American woman, told me to take a look as soon as I got home.  “Basically,” she said, “it was all about her this whole time -she got hers so fuck us!”

So Jessica Valenti’s official departure from Feministing (and Renee’s subsequent response) is why I was actually spurred to write this post, but the problem goes back far longer than just that.

Before we begin, I would like to separate the issue as it stands – representation in mainstream, funded, capital F Feminism, from Jessica Valenti.  It is a bit difficult to do this – after all, Jessica’s site boasts that she was tagged the “poster girl for third-wave feminism” by Salon. To become a symbol of a movement (intentionally or unintentionally) means to also absorb all of the baggage that comes along with being held up as the symbol. And oh, there is baggage.

First, the idea that the third wave has mastered inclusion problems is sadly mistaken, since many of us surfing this new wave still see the rehashing that happens time and time again of second wave and first wave problems. However, it is absolutely amazing how often we see the same problems repeat themselves time and time again – particularly in the blogosphere.

Second, the idea that any one of us can represent the many is inherently flawed. It doesn’t matter who we’re talking about – no one can fully represent the whole of who we are and our varied thoughts and feelings. The trouble is that our current system requires exactly that – certain groups, in order to access a seat at the table, a representative will be assigned. Some folks would call that an attempt at diversity – but it is a nefarious double bind for those of us who get the nod. To refuse to participate may mean that voice is never represented, that the voices are the underrepresented are once again unvoiced, unheard, and perhaps unknown. Unfortunately, absence can be interpreted as a reinforcement of the status quo – if women of color are not present, then the uniformed interpret this to mean we have nothing to say. Or, even worse, it is a reinforcement that critical feminist theorists of color do not exist.

However, to accept the position also means to be pressed into the token spot. To often be the only person versed in issues pertinent to women of color. To have to change what you want to say or do or talk or think about because someone else on the panel just said something so egregious (and something quietly accepted as truth) that you know have to challenge their fucked up worldview.

So, to that end I wanted to share some stories from my life being sporadically dropped into feminist circles and what I have observed there. My hope is that because I’ve accrued some (read: precious little) currency in mainstream circles, that people will seriously reflect on the feminist status quo and recognize the way in which this space encourages tokenization and exploitation.

A Ms. Nigga VIP Panel Spot, Just for me!

I get asked to be on a lot of panels. Normally, being on a panel is a great way to attend a kick ass conference for free. So when I was first starting out, was thrilled to jump on a panel. Exposure, great networking – what’s not to like?

Now, dozens of panels later, I read every panel invitation as if I were trying to break The Da Vinci code. That practice started when I was on a panel a few years back. I had been invited to sit on a panel about women and media, and I thought they asked me to come to represent the digital sector. And perhaps the organizers did. But one of my co-panelists decided she was going to talk about how women didn’t recognize how good we had it. Everytime a panelist or audience member brought up a barrier to women in the industry, she responded by talking about how many gains women had made.

Finally I spoke up. “You said things are so much better for women- but you are only talking about white women. Outside of Oprah, where’s our progress, on or off screen?”

Not only did this woman not answer my question, she acted as if I had called her a racist. For some reason, she felt the need to inform the room about how she attends vibrant multicultural celebrations in her hometown that “celebrate differences.”

Now, what the fuck did that have to do with me pointing out that she had erased the experiences of women of color in the entertainment industry in all of her responses? Nothing. But I don’t think she was responding to my question – she was responding to my tokenized presence in that environment. It was instant defense mode – “let me prove how not racist I am,” not “let’s examine the disparity that exists when one says women and really means white women.”

Earlier this year, I opted to join a feminist media luncheon. I accepted and planned out my statements – I really wanted to stress the opportunities in the new media space, and encourage the young women to branch out from standard “feminist” conversations and instead go into other types of spaces and apply feminist concepts to the general threads there.

And the beginning of the conversation went well. However the third panelist, who arrived a bit later, started changing the tone of the conversation. It isn’t that this speaker intentionally set out to minimize the experiences of anyone who isn’t in line with the mainstream version of feminism – but her second-wave swagger and broad sweeping statements had the same effect.

Then I found myself at a crossroads – do I start talking about what I intended to and let her statements go unchallenged? Or do I once again have to represent for folks who aren’t in the room, to people who would most likely repeat the mistakes of their fore-mothers because they never learned anything different?

So once again, I swallowed what I wanted to say and instead talked about race, class, and structural injustice.

I felt like I had to take the loss for the greater good of team POC.  Why? Because tokens are inherently disempowered, no matter how much we want things to be different. To not represent is equally as painful as the knowledge that I am silencing myself when I do so. But these are the terrible choices we are forced to endure when people are willing to accept tokens in lieu of equity.

The Price We All Pay

Occasionally, we’ve run pieces about the cost of racism on Racialicious, many cross posted from our friends at Resist Racism.  One of my favorites, “The Cost of Racism” talks about how white supremacy has convinced itself of its own correctness (emphasis mine):

White people are raised in an environment in which they are regularly assured of their superiority. Their experts are white, like them. And they often live in segregation, thus denying them the opportunity to be exposed to other viewpoints.

What happens in a culture of white supremacy? White people assume that they are the experts. Even in the absence of any history, education or knowledge.

The most blatant example of this is when a white person (typically a white man) is pontificating about a subject and is challenged when a person of color expresses an opinion.  The white person will assume that the person of color knows nothing about the subject and will strive to “correct” him or her.  I’ve had this happen when a white person who was not in my field was speaking with authority about something in my field.  They never assume that you might actually be knowledgeable on the subject, nor do they assume that you might have professional credentials.  (I’d also note that this is a very common experience on the part of people of color.  And I recently heard a anecdote about this happening to a writer of color with a white man who was discussing her book.  Only he didn’t know she had written it.)

It does not cross their minds.  This is racism. [...]

When people are not regularly exposed to alternative viewpoints, and when other viewpoints are not carefully considered but instead immediately discounted, the end result is a people who lack the ability to think critically. Because they never learned to consider all the evidence.  They learned only who they need to listen to.

And it is this that we bump up against, time and time again.

Here’s another story.  I get an email from a writer who wants to quote me in a piece for an international newspaper about misogyny and hip-hop. This person stresses what a good opportunity for exposure this would be for me and my blog.  This person does not mention the extensive writing I’ve done on hip-hop, feminism, and everything in between.  This person did not appear to notice that I had already written extensively about the song and video in question.  Hell, this person didn’t appear to realize that I had already written extensively for the same international newspaper they were writing for, across a couple different sections.

So I ignored the email (which is easy for me to do, since I get about an email a minute most days).  But this person persisted, and emailed the person who referred me to ask for a proper introduction. In the magazine writing world, one of the first things you learn is that introductions are golden – here is a trusted person emailing someone you want to get in touch with saying “Hey, can you take the time to talk to this person?”  Why the initial offer was refused is beyond me.

But, the referral person sent me the whole email chain from this writer. And the writer’s initial email was to the referral, with a nice gushy line about their work and how they admired them, and would they please consider commenting. The referral noted she was not the best person to answer this question, and sent that person on to me.

The person who referred me is a white, well-known feminist that does NOT write about hip-hop. She’s a generalist, and she writes about a bit of everything.  Which brings me back to Resistance’s point above: why, if one is writing about hip hop and misogyny, would you go to a generalist, rather than an expert?

Why would you seek the opinion of someone who rarely, if ever writes about hip hop on a piece about hip hop? This person didn’t need to quote me as an expert.  They could have quoted Renina. Or any of the Crunk Feminists.  Or the R.N. Bradley, the Red Clay Scholar. Or any of the ladies at Clutch. Or Tricia Rose. Or Elizabeth Mendez Berry. Or Joan Morgan. Or Gwyndolyn Pough. Or look at men who identify as feminist or do feminist work – what about Byron Hurt who created a whole documentary on hip-hop and gender? What about Mark Anthony Neal? Need someone more well known? What about Melissa Harris-Perry?

Or, if this person is such a huge fan of mainstream feminism, why not reach out to the ladies at Feministing.com, the largest feminist hub in the blogosphere, and holler at Samhita, who is a hip hop head AND has the high profile position of Executive Editor? Why not Rose, who has also written extensively about hip-hop? And these are just the folks I can think of off the top of my head.

It’s the invisibility that burns. Amazing writing from all kinds of people is only a search box  away – yet, since we are not filed under “listen to,” we are ignored. And we are ignored in favor of people who will admit to not being experts on the topic or not having certain types of experiences.  This is when we start moving into erasure territory.  It isn’t that we are not out there, putting work into the public consciousness.  It’s that our words don’t count until they fall from the lips of a white girl.

I can only speak to my particular areas, which heavily focus on race and class.  But there are a lot of folks silenced because they don’t fit the profile La Lubu so helpfully outlines on Feministe:

“The feminist blogosphere is: young, but not too young (25-35); mostly white (and of northern european extraction); middle to upper-middle class; highly educated (always degreed, usually grad school or law degree); able-bodied and healthy; non-religious (but typically with a Protestant or Jewish background); childfree by choice (also not a caretaker of an elderly or disabled adult); body size from thin to very thin; cisgender; heterosexual; conventionally feminine/pretty; fashionable; not employed in a nontraditional (>25% female participation) workforce; native English speaking (family of origin usually native English speaking also); non-indigenous and several generations removed from immigrant ancestors; raised in a nuclear family (either intact or divorced—but not “unwed” or extended family); lives in a large metropolis; favors capitalism; unmarried/unpartnered (meaning: no formal or legal ties of responsibility to a partner); never incarcerated (no family incarcerated either); and has plenty of personal contact with people in positions of actual power (gets invited to policymaking meetings/summits).”

I hit a lot of these myself:  27 years old (started here when I was about 23 or 24), able bodied, childfree by choice, cisgender, heterosexual, native English speaking, large metropolis dwelling, neutral on capitalism, currently unmarried, never incarcerated, and recently, I discovered that I’ve been thrust into contact with a lot of people in positions of actual power.  But the other things, that I don’t fit?  They figure prominently into how others perceive me.

Much Ado About Book Deals

The term “book deal” has become short hand for a whole host of other things, most specifically how the words of some women are valued over others.  It’s also kind of seen as a low-level litmus test for “making it.”  If a person without a book deal criticized someone with a book deal, they would normally be tagged as “jealous,” angry that they don’t have one of these coveted agreements that vaults you into expert status. The other side of that criticism is more quiet, kind of a whisper, but it persists nonetheless: “If your writing was better, you would have a book deal too.”

So let’s talk about book deals, shall we?

I write in this space having contributed to two anthologies, multiple magazines, dozens of online outlets, and am about to pen my first foreward for a friend’s book about the Black Blogosphere. I am also delinquent in an academic chapter I owe to another friend about the Intersectional Internet. (If you’re reading, Doc Dre, I swear I’ll get it done, Jessica Yee as my 11th hour witness!)

The first time I was informed about the politics of book deals was 2008. The first time I was offered a book deal based on the Racialicious blog was also 2008 (and, to my knowledge, that offer still stands).  The first time I was introduced to a book agent was 2009, and the first time I was offered a personal book deal was 2010.

I still haven’t written a fucking book.

So, I say this to diffuse the she’s just jealous allegations by saying it outright – I could have a book deal, tomorrow, if I wanted and it would be on the shelves by winter. But I have not committed to a book yet.

This is partially due to (1) the politics surrounding book deals and (2) my complete and utter lack of interest in penning a memoir.

The latter reason should be fairly obvious to long time readers – I am very careful about revealing personal information about myself, and I would prefer to keep as much of my life as possible private.  Memoirs are super popular in the publishing world right now, so that’s what folks tend to push me toward.

The discussion of politics…well, let’s go back in time for a bit.

Back in 2008, I was a complete and total n00b, honored to attend my very first conference, Women, Action, and the Media.  It was the first time I had ever spoken on a panel before, so I was grateful to have Carmen steering the ship and Wendi Muse in the shotgun position.  Up until that point, we weren’t super involved in the feminist space – Carmen had been featured in Bitch Magazine and received a wave of (well-deserved) attention for her effortless discussion of race and gender issues.  Still, we were definitely the race kids invited to the gender party, so we didn’t really know what kind of space we stepped into.

And what I recall most about the time was how many friends we made.  Andi Ziesler and Lisa Jervis from Bitch Magazine introduced themselves – they proved to be great friends early on.  Bitch published my first (and favorite) magazine piece and Lisa Jervis floated my name in a lot of circles, which allowed me to rack out freelance credits later.  The most of the Feministing crew was there and they put on a fabulous dinner to promote their then new direction and site redesign.  I met tons of people, and everywhere, there was the feel of opportunity.  I remember being told, twice, to hit the after party after the evening’s official festivities close.  “Two people got book deals last year!” I was informed, though I appear to have forgotten who told me this.  No matter.

Since Carmen, Wendi, and I were also interested in caucusing with the Women of Color contingent at the conference (see this link), we ended up splitting our time between two events – the Feministing dinner and the QWOC and friends party, ultimately skipping the after party.  (This is a *really* abbreviated version of events, mind – I’m only telling the book deal centric bits of the story.)

That same day, Wendi and I had attended a pre-caucus lunch where we found out that a pretty awesome writer, Adele Nieves, had sat down with a publisher called Seal Press to pitch her idea for an anthology.  From what I can recall about the initial pitch, it was about bringing marginalized voices to the center of feminist discourse – a book on feminism without the usual suspects.  However, the person who sat down with her completely missed why such a book was needed, and informed Nieves that the book just wouldn’t sell without a brand name feminist, like Jessica Valenti.

So, then came the fallout. And much of the discussions afterward explained why the ideas of book deals became so central to a lot of these debates.

• There are issues of knowing the people involved, and friendship, and wanting to believe the best about your friend’s intentions. (See the comments for why that didn’t hold up.)
• Some issues, around the same time, about ideas, credit, plagiarism, and the co-opting the work of women of color (and with defensive response here)
• Other issues, around the same time, on women of color engaging in “negative discourse” (and drama around belatedly discovered racist images here)
• On the people being protected, and why it’s always the same old, same old
• Discussions on the unbearable whiteness of feminism
• Holly going hard on why “It’s a Jungle in Here Too” and her words, which prompted me to think along the same lines:

Just add my name to the list of those who are no longer sure if we can simply “take feminism back.” Or even if it’s worth it. It’s not like there aren’t other movements out there that actually respect women — that are led by women and folks of many other genders, that work to improve women’s lives. This exodus from single-issue politics has been happening for a long time. At the same time, I want to believe that change is possible. I want to give people the benefit of the doubt. I know mistakes are made, and I know mistakes can be repaired — even mistakes that highlight what I believe is the single worst problem inside of “the feminist movement” today.

• And another Holly sentiment, quoted for truth:

Look, we all have a problem here in the feminist blogosphere. I hope that all of you bloggers will agree with me on this problem: some feminist bloggers have access to a bigger megaphone than others, and you have to be deluded to think that’s based on anything remotely resembling a meritocracy. I’m sorry — no matter how talented you are, how good a writer, how intellectually sharp and beautifully passionate, there are other things about you that play a very significant role in how you’re heard, who hears you, whether you get heard at all. That is the tough shit about the ugly world we live in — it’s not truly fair to anyone, because true fairness would be getting evaluated solely on your own merits. Nobody is — but of course, some people get the long end of the stick, and others the short end. Others are marginalized. If you don’t get that, please go read some racism 101 somewhere, okay?

(It’s interesting to note – I miss Holly’s work. She left the feminist blogosphere – like many women on the losing side of many of these battles -  to focus on other, real world based projects.)

It really isn’t fun to dredge up all the things that went on, particularly as I’d rather not think about it for too long, but it is necessarily to do so.  Because people forget.  Time went on, and this thing I remember so well as a pivotal turning point in the feminist blogosphere is history.  Digital dust. Which is why Irin at Jezebel had no idea why so many people could see where Renee was going with her piece – all this back story was forgotten.

So it’s not about the book deal. It’s about all the issues tied up in it – access to power, marketability,  the transmission of ideas challenges, (perceived and otherwise) to mainstream norms – all kinds of things.  I hang in a lot of mainstream spaces, and I have figured out the formula that unlocks things like book deals and radio appearances and television appearances and speaking gigs.  So please believe, I know the game.  And despite the fact that some of us are able to make it, the deck is stacked. Over on Jezebel, someone inquired about why Jessica received a lot of criticism for her work, and Carmen and I received much much less for similar work.  After explaining that the race space is dramatically underfunded and underexposed when compared to feminism, I said:

While I have been blessed and honored to have many of the same opportunities as many of my white, female contemporaries, ultimately I am not the face people think of when they think feminism. I could probably eke out a living there, but only as second or third string. The stars tend to fit a certain mold. That’s not a diss on Jessica (it’s really hard to talk about these things when you actually know folks) but it’s kind of like trying to get a job as an actress. Yes, you can do it if you aren’t conventionally attractive and you can even have a fun, character driven career. But you aren’t getting the best opportunities or top billing or top dollar. The conversations around book deals and such sounds like professional sour grapes, but it is actually folks protesting a system that don’t see my words as valuable as Jessicas – for a thousand and one reasons from marketing to societal structures.

The internet is littered with reasons why so many WOC opt out (of the blogosphere format anyway) – hell, the feminism tag on Racialicious should really be named “feminist drama.” I poached Thea Lim and Jessica Yee away from a feminist mag for this bullshit.

I hate that this is resting on the feet of Jessica, because this problem didn’t begin with her and won’t end with her. But I can understand feeling some rage at seeing that pattern play out yet again.

My entire piece for Jessica Yee’s Feminism for Real was based in this internal conflict, and unfortunately, I haven’t arrived at a solution within myself. The event I referenced at the beginning of the piece? I declined. Over the weekend I accepted two panel invitations. One read:

We love the voice and leadership you bring to the feminist movement, and we hope you will join us to have a dynamic, smart, and rollicking good conversation with Gloria Steinem, that will rock people’s socks and challenge the notion that feminism is just about white women above a certain age.

For their sake, I hope they understand what they just asked for.

—

Want to Keep Reading?

Lisa Factora-Borchers – Accepting Kyriarchy, Not Apologies

Latoya Peterson – The Or vs. The And – Women of Color and Mainstream Feminism

Mai’a – We Don’t Need Another Anti-Racism 101

By Guest Contributor Shannon Joyce Prince

Note: The Houston Zoo uses the term “pygmy” and specifies no particular so called p*gmy ethnic groups.  According to the Indigenous Peoples of Africa Co-ordinating Committee, “This term [‘pygmy’]is used by some communities and organisations, but is considered pejorative by others.”  When I first began writing about the Houston Zoo it was my research-based understanding that as there is no one word that names all the African ethnic groups racialized as “p*gmies” the term wasn’t offensive when speaking of the groups collectively while the names of the different ethnic groups should be used when speaking of them in particular.  In my writings on the Houston Zoo I continue to navigate this issue. Since some communities consider “p*gmy” to be pejorative, I use an asterisk when employing the word when not quoting another source.  When speaking of a particular ethnic group, I use the group’s name, clarifying that the group is labeled as “p*gmy.”  When speaking of the ethnic groups collectively I refer to them as labeled as rather than as being “p*gmy” as I have never been able to find a comprehensive list of all the ethnic groups.

The Houston Zoo has proudly announced a new project, The African Forest, which is set to open December 2010 if we don’t halt it.  According to the Zoo’s website, The African Forest is not just about exhibiting “magnificent wildlife and beautiful habitats.  It’s about people, and the wonderful, rich cultures that we all can share.”  Actually, The African Forest is about exhibiting and teaching inaccurate Western conceptions of African indigenous cultures in a place designed to exhibit and teach about animals.  The African Forest is also about displacement in the name of conservation.

Fairs, exhibitions, and zoos that showcase, market, or teach about Africans and other non-white peoples as though they were animals are called “human zoos.” Only non-whites are exhibited as or alongside animals. Human zoos allowed and still allow targeted non-whites to be redefined as animals in Western, European, or First World spaces in order to justify white past, current, or planned mistreatment of non-white peoples in the non-white peoples’ homelands.

According to the Zoo’s website, The African Forest includes an “African Marketplace Plaza” selling gifts from “from all over the world” and offering dining with a “view of giraffes;” a “Pygmy Village and Campground” showcasing “African art, history, and folklore” where visitors can stay overnight; “Pygmy Huts” where visitors will be educated about “pygmies” and “African culture,” hear stories, and be able to stay overnight; a “Storytelling Fire Pit;” an “Outpost” where visitors, while getting refreshments, will view posters “promoting ecotourism, conservation messages, and African wildlife refuges;” a “Communications Hut and Conservation Kiosk” where “visitors will use a replicated shortwave radio and listen in on simulated conversations taking place throughout Africa;” a “Rustic Outdoor Shower” representing the fact that the fictional “Pygmy Village” “recently got running water” where children can “cool off;” a section of the “Pygmy Village” where children can handle “African musical instruments and artifacts;” and “Tree House Specimen Cabinets” that showcase “objects, artifacts, and artwork.”[i] (This information is difficult to find on the Zoo’s website, so use the web addresses at this endnote if you want to look it up.)

The African Forest is problematic for several reasons.  For example, Africa is not a monolith.  Africa is a continent of fifty-three nations and even more cultures.  So while one may speak of a Ugandan forest, Yoruba marketplace, or Xhosa culture, Africa is such a diverse continent that the idea of, for example, an “African marketplace” is meaningless.

The Zoo’s website specifies that “The African Forest” is really the “central African forest,” but beyond the fact that Africa is not a monolith, central Africa is also not a monolith.  Central Africa contains Burundi, the Central African Republic, Chad, the Democratic Republic of the Congo, and Rwanda.  Therefore, it’s problematic that in a website video the Zoo refers to “the culture of central Africa” as though there were only one.  (Furthermore, the Zoo doesn’t bother to name the village it’s creating a Baka, Mbuti, Twa, etc. village.  But as the Zoo is educating its visitors that all Africans are the same and all central Africans are the same, perhaps all so called p*gmy groups are the same, too.)

The ironic part of representing all Africa in the context of the central African forest is that certain aspects of both Africa in general and central Africa in particular are conspicuously absent from this “everything but the kitchen sink” approach.  For example, why are the large cities, skyscrapers, boutiques, and movie theaters of Africa missing while The African Forest shows off the village that just got running water?  I am emphatically against the idea that there is anything less modern about a “Pygmy hut” than a glass and steel tower, but the Zoo is only showing aspects of Africa that fit Western stereotypes of “primitivism.”[ii]

I said earlier that non-white peoples are the peoples deemed worthy of being placed in the zoo – but whites place one particular people in the zoo more frequently that any other – so called p*gmies.  If Africans in general are seen as being exotic, less than human, and physically different from whites, those labeled as p*gmies are viewed as Africans par excellence.

What’s particularly chilling about the frequency with which so called p*gmy culture is placed in zoos is that people labeled p*gmies, like Jewish people, are victims of genocide.  Up to fifteen million people, including six million Jewish men, women, and children were killed in the Holocaust, and up to fifteen million so called p*gmy and other black Congolese men, women, and children were killed under King Leopold.  Both Jews and so called p*gmies, at the time of their holocausts, were being compared to animals to justify their treatment, and so called p*gmy culture was being exhibited in zoos – p*gmy-labeled culture is still being exhibited in zoos.

The Southern Poverty Law Center states that racist websites “offer a window into some of the most important ideological and other discussions going on in the racist movement.”[iii] Members of Stormfront, a major neo-Nazi/white supremacist forum, liken blacks to all manner of non-human primates and other animals, and it is frequently said that we belong, of all places, in the zoo.  Special opprobrium is directed at Africans, and, naturally, so called p*gmies.  On Stormfront threads members celebrate historical and contemporary human zoos.[iv]

So what does the Zoo explicitly say about The African Forest and Africans?  1) The Zoo says on its website, “The African Forest will transform the way Houstonians view the world providing visitors with a glimpse into the remote forests of central Africa and the distinctive people that call it home. By understanding and appreciating the challenges these people face, we will be better equipped to work with them to preserve our fragile world and to make it a better place for future generations.”[v] 2) A spokesperson for the Zoo stated in the Houston Chronicle, “This delves into habitat; conflict between man and the wild.”[vi] 3) The Zoo also said in its description of The African Forest that the project contains an “Outpost” where visitors, while getting refreshments, will view posters “promoting ecotourism, conservation messages, and African wildlife refuges.”

4) Finally, the Zoo’s blog states, “To that end, the Houston Zoo’s conservation efforts will focus on developing wildlife, habitat, and human community support programs in central Africa in 2010…There are also few national parks and protected areas on earth where humans did not co-exist with wildlife before these park boundaries were put in place. And there are even fewer places where the decision to designate a protected area does not somehow intimately affect the human population living around its borders.

“If the ability for native people to coexist with their habitat is taken away from them without offering a sustainable solution, then wildlife and habitat conservation efforts are bound to fail…

“Model community initiatives lead to socioeconomic and conservation gains by establishing and strengthening alternative community initiatives for sustainable development which can be compatible with the long term conservation of local natural resources…”

There’s so, so much egregiously wrong and wrongheaded in the Zoo’s discourse on Africans that it’s necessary to analyze the Zoo’s words piece by piece.

Let’s start with the Zoo’s first quote which basically exhorts visitors to take up the White Man’s Burden.  Africans have millennia of knowledge on how to care for their environments, but we’re the ones in the position to tell them what to do.  The Zoo states that the reason we should learn about central Africans is so that we can understand Africans’ challenges and help them.  The only reason to learn about African cultures is to control them.

The next problem with that quote is that it is gallingly hypocritical.  Is it primarily Africans or Westerners who own polluting industries, mining industries, the corporations that use the resources that are mined, and the corporations that create toxins – all of which threaten the well-being of animals and people alike?

The hypocrisy of the Zoo’s quote is tied to the fact that when Western entities decide they want to “help” the environment or animals, too frequently they do not change their own behavior but rather declare they are helping by dominating Africans’ and/or indigenous peoples’ lives and behavior.  In “Reflections on Distance and Katrina,” Jim Igoe of Dartmouth College[vii] tells how Tanzanians are being displaced by “networks of private enterprise, NGOs, and government officials.”  He says, “Exxon Mobil is also sponsoring part of conservation interventions initiated by the African Wildlife Foundation” which meant that “local people targeted by this intervention are being encouraged by the African Wildlife Foundation and the Tanzanian government to enter into agreements and sign things that they don’t fully understand.”  This “transforms these landscapes from peopled landscapes to those dominated by wildlife, which has made them attractive to private investors at the expense of locals.  It also provides Exxon Mobil, and many other corporations that sponsor conservation interventions, with tax breaks and a valuable green public image enhancement.”

Instead of respecting African sovereignty, human zoos perpetuate the myth that non-whites don’t mind being dominated.  The Houston Zoo’s website describes the various ways in which the Zoo and Zoo patrons can “help” indigenous Africans to protect wildlife, but just as non-white peoples resisted imperialism in the past, they continue to resist the West’s imperialist environmental practices – including those promoted by the Zoo.  I’ll delve into that further in a moment, but first, please refer to the second quote.

The African Forest dares to teach Zoo patrons that indigenous Africans are in conflict with wildlife, but falsely claiming that indigenous Africans harm animals is a well known tactic to violate their human rights and drive them from their traditional lands – often in cahoots with organizations such as the World Bank, NGOs, and corporations.  Let’s look at the culture The African Forest is exhibiting – so called p*gmies.  The Batwa, a so called p*gmy people, according to tribal rights group Survival International, “had lived for generations before and after 1930 without destroying the forest or its wildlife, and even had historical claims to land rights… Despite legal provision for Batwa to use and even live within the national parks (Ugandan Wildlife Statute, No. 14, 1996, sections 23-6) they remain excluded from them. Access to the parks… is negotiated through ‘multiple use committees’ which include almost no Batwa representation. This exclusion is encouraged by the stereotype which represents the Batwa as destroyers of the gorillas. In fact, however, Batwa do not eat gorillas, and they have coexisted with them for centuries….[viii]

Survival International also notes “the Aka, like all of the ‘Pygmy’ peoples in Central Africa, are under threat. More and more of the forest is being depleted by logging companies, while huge areas of good forest have been turned into parks or wildlife reserves that are guarded by armed thugs who beat up the Pygmies and drive them out of their ancestral hunting grounds. And yet the Pygmies are the real guardians of the forest. As their proverb explains: ’We Aka love the forest as we love our own bodies’ ” (italics mine.)[ix] To learn more about so called p*gmy and other African and indigenous peoples’ views on conservation see this endnote.[x]

Now refer to the third quote.  Let’s examine ecotourism first. According to Lee Pera and Deborah McLaren,[xi] tourism “has been promoted as a panacea for ‘sustainable’ development. However, tourism’s supposed benefits … have not ‘trickled down’ or benefited Indigenous Peoples. The destructiveness of the tourism industry … has brought great harm to many Indigenous Peoples and communities around the world…”

They say, “It is no coincidence that those who have lost their lands or have no market for their crops are forced into service-sector employment in the tourism industry and are increasingly dependent on the whims of the global market and the corporations which run it” (italics mine.)

McLaren adds, “Global tourism threatens indigenous knowledge and intellectual property rights, our technologies, religions, sacred sites, social structures and relationships, wildlife, ecosystems, economies and basic rights to informed understanding; reducing indigenous peoples to simply another consumer product that is quickly becoming exhaustible” (italics mine.)
Georgianne Nienaber writing for central African (Rwandan) newspaper The New Times states, “Finally, the detritus of ‘civilization,’ in the form of excrement, garbage and detergents, is discharged into the once pristine environment…  The story of tourism in Africa causes one to weep. In Kenya, Tanzania, and Zimbabwe the story of tourism is a tragedy in which western businesses sent most of the money back home to the colonialist developers… Foreign workers held the most lucrative management positions (Pera and McLaren, Globalization, Tourism and Indigenous Peoples: What You Should Know About the World’s Largest Industry, www.planeta.com), reducing the local ‘service providers’ to little more than slave labour…”[xii]

A paper published by the Forest Peoples Programme in conjunction with the United Organisation for Batwa Development in Uganda – the Batwa people’s own organization – quotes a Mutwa (so called p*gmy) as saying, “Don’t mix us with other people, leave us separate and help us.”[xiii] It’s odd that The African Forest plans to promote ecotourism as a way to help Africans and African wildlife despite how devastating some Africans, specifically central Africans and so called p*gmies, and allies of indigenous people find the industry for Africans and African wildlife.

Now let’s examine the last two things the “Outpost” in The African Forest promotes: “conservation messages and African wildlife refuges.”  Conservation in Africa and the creation of wildlife refuges on the continent are notorious for the frequent creation of “wildlife refugees.”  That means that African governments, with the help of Western businesses and NGOs, violate the human rights of Africans, decide they have no right to their traditional lands, and literally make them refugees alongside, for example, refugees of war.  In other words, in Africa it’s common for conservationists to create refuges to conserve wildlife by simply kicking Africans out.

Five of the world’s most important wildlife conservation organizations are guilty of stealing land from indigenous people and making them refugees: World Wildlife Fund, The Nature Conservancy, Conservation International, Wildlife Conservation Society, and the World Conservation Union.[xiv] The aforementioned African Wildlife Foundation is yet another conservation organization that steals land from indigenous people.  As I noted earlier, the African Wildlife Foundation partnered with Exxon Mobil to displace Tanzanians.  An employee representing Exxon Mobil Corporation is on the Houston Zoos’ Board of Directors.

Exxon is known for the Valdez Oil Spill, the Brooklyn Oil Spill, and the Greenpoint Oil Spill, and despite its eagerness to support the Houston Zoo and create a wildlife refuge in Tanzania, the company is currently harming endangered gray whales.  If its crimes against nature weren’t enough, the company is currently being accused of sharing responsibility for ” Indonesian Military Killings, Torture and other Severe Abuse in Aceh, Indonesia” such as rape and murder according to the International Labor Rights Forum.

An employee representing Shell Downstream, Inc. is another of the Zoo’s board members.  Royal Dutch Shell is a multinational petroleum company notorious for committing crimes against humanity, abusing African indigenous people, torturing people, and poisoning the environment.  This is the company that is widely believed yet never has admitted to helping facilitate the execution of legendary environmental and indigenous rights leader Ken Saro-Wiwa and eight other indigenous Ogoni Nigerians who protested the theft of Ogoni land for oil extraction.  (Exxon settled for millions to the victims’ families.)[xv] The company was condemned by the Nigerian High Court and activists as recently as 2005 and 2008 for “violating the constitutional ‘rights to life and dignity.’ ”  Shell, in addition to its other crimes against human rights, creates conservation refugees.[xvi]

And lest I forget, one of the Zoo’s donors is Chevron.[xvii] As you might expect, Chevron also makes indigenous people conservation refugees.[xviii] Furthermore, Chevron is currently being sued for 27 billion dollars by an indigenous Amazonian community whose rainforest was polluted by the corporation’s oil-drilling.[xix]

The conservation refugee problem is so bad that, according to Martha Honey, in her book Ecotourism and Sustainable Development, conservation refugees “are roughly estimated to number between 5 millions and tens of millions of human beings.”    Beyond the fact that making people refugees in the name of conservation is evil – it doesn’t even help conservation.  As Mark Dowie says in Paradigm Wars, “More and more conservationists seem to be wondering how, after setting aside a ‘protected’ land mass the size of Africa, global biodiversity continues to decline…  90 percent of biodiversity lies outside of protected areas.  If we want to preserve biodiversity in the far reaches of the globe, places that are in many cases still occupied by indigenous people living in ways that are ecologically sustainable, history is showing us that the most counterproductive thing we can do is evict them.”[xx]

Refer back to the Zoo’s fourth group of quotes.  The Zoo freely states that indigenous people’s right to coexist with their habitat is being “taken” from them.  And, as can be expected, they promise to offer a consolation prize.  But what do “sustainable solutions” for indigenous people often mean?  As Jim Igoe says, after being made refugees in the name of conservation by one of the Zoo’s donors, Exxon Mobil, Tanzanians were then told “their only way out of poverty is to become junior partners in conservation-oriented business ventures on grossly unfavorable terms.”  This treatment is the rule, not the exception, when it comes to treatment of conservation refugees according to Mark Dowie.

Stephen Corry, the Director of Survival International, says of the situation of conservation refugees, “What is happening to these people is not some kind of inevitable doom; it is a crime, and must be resisted.”[xxi]

So let’s sum things up: The Houston Zoo, which is funded by corporations notorious for destroying the environment, harming wildlife, violating human rights, and creating conservation/wildlife parks by making Africans and other indigenous peoples conservation refugees, is creating a human zoo called The African Forest that supports and promotes the creation/continuation of conservation parks and the attendant displacement of Africans.  This paper was not meant to be a journey through historical and present day manifestations of prejudice, but a call to action.  Please consider opposing The African Forest, human zoos, and the creation/perpetuation of the conservation refugee crisis in one or more of the following ways:

1.    Tell the Houston Zoo you are against The African Forest human zoo and the creation of conservation refugees as well as the continuation of the conservation refugee crisis by contacting the Houston Zoo here: http://houstonzoo.com/contact/.  Tell the Houston Zoo that you will boycott zoos that host human zoos and/or make/keep Africans conservation refugees.  If you have an affiliation, credential, or detail about yourself you feel is relevant, feel free to mention it i.e. a university you work for, a social justice group you work with, being indigenous (black or not), African, or of African descent, being a parent or educator, etc.  Be sure to send a copy of your message to nohumanzoo@yahoo.com so that we have a record of your letter in case the Zoo doesn’t respond and to prevent the Zoo from deciding to claim that no one is protesting.

2.    Send your name and, if you want, affiliation to nohumanzoo@yahoo.com if you want to be put on a petition stating, “We, the undersigned, do not support The African Forest human zoo, the creation of conservation refugees, or the continuation of the conservation refugee crisis.”

3.    Raise awareness about The African Forest through your website, blog, email list, livejournal, twitter, etc. and encourage others to write the Zoo and sign the petition.

·       Please be aware that, naturally, the letter you send or your signature on the petition may be made public.

·       The original version of this paper is thirty nine pages long and has much more information.  If you would like the full version of this paper email nohumanzoo@yahoo.com.

Thank you so much for your help!

[ii] Some might argue that features of urban life wouldn’t be appropriate to include as urban dwellers do not live in harmony with nature.  That argument ignores the fact that The African Forest teaches the lie that rural indigenous Africans in fact don’t live in harmony with nature either.

[iii] http://www.splcenter.org/search/apachesolr_search/forums

[iv] http://www.stormfront.org/forum/showthread.php?t=480150, http://www.stormfront.org/forum/showthread.php?t=317405, http://www.stormfront.org/forum/t210716/, http://www.stormfront.org/forum/t210993/, http://www.stormfront.org/forum/t409931/

[v] http://www.houstonzoo.org/en/photos/albums/v/63

[vi] http://www.chron.com/disp/story.mpl/breaking/6551657.html

[vii] At the time his paper was written, he was affiliated with the University of Colorado Health Sciences Center.

[viii] http://www.survivalinternational.org/material/20

[ix] http://www.survivalinternational.org/news/93

[x] http://www.forestpeoples.org/documents/conservation/uganda_review_cbd_pa_jan08_eng.pdf, http://www.forestpeoples.org/documents/conservation/bases/p_to_p_project_base.shtml#english, http://www.forestpeoples.org/documents/ifi_igo/wb_ips_uganda_may00_eng.shtml, and other resources on http://www.forestpeoples.org/index.shtml

[xi] http://www.planeta.com/planeta/99/1199globalizationrt.html

[xii] http://www.nextbillion.net/news/ecotourism-greedy-lover-or-savior

[xiii] http://www.forestpeoples.org/documents/ifi_igo/wb_ips_uganda_may00_eng.shtml

[xiv] Conservation Refugee by Mark Dowie

[xv] http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/africa/8090493.stm

[xvi] http://commonsblog.org/archives/000578.php

[xvii] http://www.houstonzoo.org/donors/

[xviii] http://www.orionmagazine.org/index.php/articles/article/161/

[xix] http://www.businessweek.com/ap/financialnews/D9EPOS7O0.htm

[xx] Again, in the interest of keeping this long essay from being any longer than necessary, I encourage those wanting more information on conservation refugees to read Mark Dowie’s work in Orion Magazine, and his book Conservation Refugees: The Hundred-Year Conflict Between Global Conservation and Native Peoples.

[xxi] http://www.survivalinternational.org/news/93

–

Ed note: a version of this piece appeared at Stuff White People Do

Reader Johanna sent us this ad:

and kindly typed out the copy for us, which says:

Discovery is a fearless pursuit. Certainly, this was the case when the Vikings, the first Europeans to reach the new world, landed at L’Anse aux Meadows. While it may only be a three-hour flight for you, it was a considerably longer journey a thousand years ago. But it’s a place where mystery still mingles with the light and washes over the strange, captivating landscape. A place where all sorts of discoveries still happen every day. Some, as small as North America. Others, as big as a piece of yourself.

Ok, so we get that Newfoundland-Labrador Tourism is speaking more of discovery in terms of the self/Oprah kind here, not the Columbus kind. But as Johanna notes, there is still something off-putting about fusing the notion of colonisation with pop-psych finding yourself, and that fact that the land is so strange and sparkly.

This ad seems to encapsulate two of the ways that North America cleanses the story of its origin, refusing to acknowledge that our nations are founded on genocide.

The first: calling the Europeans’ arrival in the Americas “Discovery,” rather than Colonisation or Genocide. You can only call their arrival “discovery” if there weren’t any humans here who had already discovered the land. And if you think about, that’s the implication: it was a discovery, because the people who were already here were not considered human by the Europeans.

Ronald Wright puts it best in his fascinating book Stolen Continents, which tells the story of the conquest of the Americas through the eyes of the indigenous people who experienced the catastrophe of European arrival. This excerpt is from the prologue:

When I interviewed people for the final chapters of this book, I was told by Dehatkadons, a traditional chief of the Onondaga Iroquois, “You cannot discover an inhabited land. Otherwise I could cross the Atlantic and ‘discover’ England.” that such an obvious point has eluded European consciouness for five centuries reveals that the history we have been taught is really myth…Myth is an arrangement of the past, whether real or imagined, in patterns that resonate with a culture’s deepest values and aspirations…those vanquished by our civilization see that its myth of discovery has transformed historical crimes into glittering icons. Yet from the West’s vantage point, the discovery myth is true.

The second: Speaking of the land – or indigenous people, or their culture – as so mysterious and spooky.  Indigenous people and the “uninhabited” land are often portrayed as “mysterious” and “unknowable”…as if they are strange alien creatures who aren’t living side by side with everyone else and just trying to get by. Romanticising and mystifying the people and their culture is dehumanising, as if we’d prefer to encounter them in museums rather than on the street. They’re really not that mysterious. Just go to the library. But rather than learn about the real lives of the real humans who lived on the land before us – and how their modern descendants deal with the horrible legacy of colonisation – we’d rather speak wistfully of dream catchers and the majesty of their wild landscapes.

No thank you, Newfoundland.

Lately I’ve had my fair share of run-ins with the hipsters and hippies, as well as the hippie/hipster “culture” at large, and have become increasingly annoyed at their depiction/co-option of my ethnicity as a First Nations person.

Kelsey pointed me to this post on Sociological Images last week which rounds up some of the latest and greatest of this ever continuing trend.

I know my parents, grandparents, aunties and uncles have had to deal with this in their time and it’s certainly not a new thing –but it’s 2010 and not only does it still continue strongly to this day – it’s taken some interesting turns down the erasure of true origins road. This isn’t a hate letter, or reverse racism (as if there were such a thing!). It’s also not an attempt to discourage you from finding out more about Native people – and in fact I strongly ENCOURAGE you to do some actual research and knowledge seeking so you might get our culture right and think twice about things like permission and respect before you act on your appropriation.

So to the hipsters/hippies who appropriate Native culture but aren’t First Nations/Aboriginal/Indigenous, I’m asking you nicely now, to PLEASE stop annoying (the fuck out of) me with the following:

The clothing. Whether it’s headbands, feathers, bone necklaces, mukluks, or moccasins – at least put some damn thought into WHAT you are wearing and WHERE it’s from. I know our people sell these things en masse in gift shops and trading posts, and it seems like it’s an open invitation to buy it and flaunt it, but you could at least check the label to see A. If it’s made by actual Indigenous people/communities B. What does this really mean if YOU wear it?

Organic living and environmentalism as “new” concepts. One of my friends jokes that all Native people should get green energy for free because that’s how we’ve been living for centuries and also taught the colonizers how to live (which may or may not have screwed us in the end). I really do love the resurgence of the green movement and how things are becoming more environmentally friendly – but I don’t need certain members of the movement pretending like they started this or ignoring extreme realities we’re facing like environmental racism and justice. I also think we need actual Native people being in charge of and leading the responses to environmental degradation that are happening in our own territories. It’s not to say we don’t need allyship and support – but it’s also rather irritating when I read an event posting for a cause of some sort for a First Nation where there’s like two Native people in the whole place (who either barely say anything or are supposed to go along with the way the hippies organize without complaint because they’re “doing something for us”).

The appropriation of and silence about our medicines and teachings. I see direct examples of this in some of the alternative feminine and menstrual cycle products that are on the market now. I’m not hating on the DIVA cup or suggesting that the “divine goddess” isn’t a great story to hear, but I am wondering where your assertion of Indigenous midwifery knowledge is – and that in fact the absence of acknowledgment of where periods not being a bad thing or the blood from our menstrual cycles being sacred originates, is a direct erasure of Indigenous truth. It’s not enough to romanticize our medicines and teachings about women’s bodies and power and say, “Look at how thousands of years ago they used to do that!” and then capitalize your product or book off of some ancient-seeming fluff you are trying to present as en vogue. No! We are STILL doing this, we STILL believe in this, and damn it, you need to HONOR where this comes from!

We’re all one race. I’m not here to burst your bubble of unity and friendship, those things are great – but I am here to remind you that while some of you want to be our friends and ignore so-called “cultural differences” – you can’t ignore the history and current day presence of colonialism and racism. I don’t need to list off the statistics of health disparities and poverty in Native communities today to prove this fact to you – just consult the facts. I don’t want to be the angry Indian you won’t be friends with, so do me a favor and when you talk about “earth-based” things and your “right” to participate in whatever culture you want because we’re all human, know that there is such a thing as cultural protocol and that many of us are in crisis now of how to protect Indigenous knowledge.

Your grandfather’s, sister’s, cousin’s great-grandma was a Cherokee princess. This is an old one that we’ve been hearing for decades now – but it’s especially bothersome when I’m on the plane and you want me to educate you about blood quantum systems and status for the next 2 hours of the flight. I won’t do this, and I’m tired of you getting upset at me if I don’t initially present myself as Native (because no, we don’t all have braids and brown skin) but then you look at my laptop stickers and are like, “Mohawk. Hey my third cousin’s sister’s best friend is Native!” and then I just turn the volume on my IPod louder because I don’t always have the answers to your incessant questions – which are really just one question to me – why are we so invisible to you?

–

Image by Jenn Mussari, featured at the Native Appropriations Blog

Reader Carleandria sent us this link to an article from the Times Online, discussing a controversy that is gaining ground in France after the release of a biopic on French writer Alexandre “The Three Musketeers” Dumas starring Gérard Depardieu:

A fuss over race has soured the release of the latest film in which Gérard Depardieu takes on one of the giants of French history. Black actors and anti-racism campaigners are upset that the white star is cast as Alexandre Dumas, the country’s biggest national hero with mixed blood.

The blonde, blue-eyed Depardieu sports curly hair and darker skin in L’Autre Dumas [trailer here], directed by Safy Nebbou. Dumas, who is still probably the world’s best-loved French author, was an exuberant, high-living celebrity — like Depardieu. His paternal grandmother was a former Haitian slave. His father, a Napoleonic-era general, was deemed to be a Caribbean “negro”. In his lifetime, the novelist was mocked for his African features and he called himself ”un nègre”.

…Non-white celebrities, some Dumas experts and black organisations are angry because they say that the producers missed a chance to celebrate France’s ethnic diversity and remind the world of the writer’s part black origins.

“There is a mechanism of permanent discrimination by silence,” said Jacques Martial, a black actor who made his name playing a television police detective. Patrick Lozès, President of the Council of Black Associations (CRAN) wondered: “In 150 years time, could the role of Barack Obama be played in a film by a white actor with a fuzzy wig? Can Martin Luther King be played by a white?”

…In a protest on the internet, the CRAN said that the casting of Depardieu was fresh evidence of France’s failure to promote non-white stars in its cinema and media. “Very few of our compatriots know that Alexandre Dumas was mixed race and considered to be a black in his lifetime,” it said.

The film commits a double sin in the CRAN’s eyes because its plot, adapted from a successful play, discredits Dumas’ genius by depicting his white assistant as the true creator of his works. “Possibly for commercial reasons, they are white-washing Dumas in order to blacken him further,” it said.

…Dumas’ Wikipedia entry (yes, sorry) contains a quote in which Dumas replied to a taunt about being black. “My father was a mulatto, my grandfather was a Negro, and my great-grandfather a monkey. You see, Sir, my family starts where yours ends.”

Personally I had no idea that Dumas was black.  This makes me wonder how many famous people of colour – especially those of mixed heritage – are white-washed by history.   I also recently learned (through another reader tip!) that the Russian poet Alexander Pushkin was black too.

POC reclamation project, anyone?

The 2010 Olympics logo is an altered version of traditional Arctic Inuit sculptures. This quasi-indigenous logo has been displayed in a barrage of Olympics branding. You can see two examples of this marketing in photos — from the summer of 2009 – shown below.

With this Olympics logo, and other Olympics promotional messages, marketers have been portraying the 2010 Games as ‘indigenous’ Olympics. Indigenous references are foregrounded in mass produced Olympics marketing.  The online Olympics store even sells “Authentic Aboriginal Products” (such as t-shirts and silk ties).

Some people who encounter this Olympics branding are bound to come away with the impression that natives (that is, individuals with a significant enough amount of native ancestry or culture) are respected, empowered, and well-integrated here in Canada. In other words, some viewers will view this marketing as a sign of harmonious bonds between natives and mainstream Canadian society.

Chief Stewart Phillip, the president of Union of B.C. Indian Chiefs, conveyed a much different view of Olympics marketing when he asserted that,

We’re deeply concerned about the concerted and aggressive marketing campaign advanced by Vanoc [the 2010 Olympics organization committee] which suggests the indigenous people of [British Columbia] and Canada enjoy a very comfortable and high standard of living. The Disneyesque promotional materials suggests a cosy relationship between aboriginal people of the province with all levels of government and it completely ignores the horrific levels of poverty our people endure on a daily basis.

(Arctic indigenous branding on a McDonald’s cup in a
Wal-Mart store, in a city in Ontario, Canada)

In British Columbia, and elsewhere in present-day Canada, natives have communicated conflicting views about how the 2010 Olympics relate to their lives, lands, and traditions. Indigenous Environmental Network campaigners have been among the more vocal critics who have opposed the 2010 Games.

Some have found the cartoonish Olympic marketing imagery to be a mockery of native traditions.  For example, critics have argued that the 2010 Olympics committee has edited and re-packaged native culture — which also has been ripped out of its traditional contexts. The Committee is highlighting Arctic indigenous imagery — yet Vancouver, the centre of the Games, is a temperate city.  Arctic indigenous peoples did not live there — or on the nearby Whistler and Cypress mountains, where some Olympic events will be held. Other indigenous populations who did live in that area of British Columbia also are not represented in the marketing iconography.

The Olympics branding denies noteworthy differences among native groups spread across these areas. Passing theatrical gestures to native peoples during the open ceremonies could be considered to be more respectful, but Olympics marketers otherwise have been mixing up North American native traditions into a soup-like caricature. Natives have been consistently oppressed, but the various peoples who are considered to be native (in some way, or to some degree) certainly are not ‘all the same.’ Tacking Arctic imagery on to Vancouver-area Games implies that there is only one native essence (in North America, if not beyond this continent).

What else is going on here? What does this superficially ‘indigenous’ rhetoric and imagery have to do with the rest of the 2010 Olympics? In other words, are indigenous populations benefiting from the 2010 Olympics in a way that might explain or justify the appropriation of Arctic imagery?

I pose these questions:

- What proportion of the profits from Olympics sales and tourism will natives groups receive?

- To what extent have native groups actively participated in Olympics organizing?

- How many of the athletes representing Canada at the Games have strong ties to native traditions and ancestors?

- Aside from the branding rhetoric and imagery discussed here, how much indigenous culture will be included in Olympic sports events and Olympics broadcasting?

- And how should we interpret the use of traditional imagery for product marketing purposes? What is the relationship between native peoples and chewing gum wrappers, sugary soda pop drink bottles, and other products which display Olympics brand logos?  Are indigenous peoples profitting from these product sales?  Are natives involved in the boardrooms of the corporations behind these sales?  And are there any other noteworthy connections between these products and any natives in present-day Canada?

Answers to those preceding questions are tied to the conditions that native peoples live under in present-day Canada. As I will explain, there are deep problems with the ‘indigenous’ Olympics rhetoric and imagery, which is very much at odds with Canadian realities.

Native issues can be complex— and yet brutally straightforward, at the same time.Here are some figures that convey the highly disproportionate impoverishment, vulnerabilities, marginalization, and disempowerment of natives in present-day Canada. (Here are additional child poverty statistics.) The worst racism in Canada is reserved for indigenous peoples who are trapped between assimilation and ghettoization. Native groups ultimately are disappearing— in a nation that was established on native lands.

No marketing imagery ever could erase these ongoing legacies of a history of colonial genocide in Canada (and elsewhere).

Frankly, the ‘indigenous’ Olympics rhetoric and imagery strikes me as yet another form of liberal tokenism, given how fundamental problems are glossed over with paltry gestures (rather than a more radical redistribution of resources — or other constructive societal change).

In fact, while the Olympics imagery implies some sort of harmony between natives and non-natives in Canada, there actually are various ongoing native land claim conflicts in this country. In Ontario, indigenous activists helped to wage a defensive campaign which was a relatively high-profile land claim conflict here in Ontario, during the summer of 2009.

Native land claims are at the forefront of the issues raised by anti-Olympic protestors in Canada (who occasionally have supported tactics that I do not agree with). The phrase “No Olympics on Stolen Land” has been a common protest slogan, and indigenous imagery has been foregrounded in messages from no2010 campaigners, and other anti-Olympic activists. Although these opponents of the Olympics have not carefully distinguished between imagery from different indigenous cultures, their campaign messages surely could not be considered a tokenist form of whitewashing or conservatism — since these anti-Olympic activists have been siding with native land claims.

Protesters also have been raising concerns about how the Olympics are tied to indigenous land conflicts around the tar sands in Alberta. A recent day of action call-out from the Indigenous Environmental Network is the best example of connections drawn between the tar sands and the 2010 Games. As in some other activist campaign messages, this day of action announcement highlights financial and energy-system ties between the Olympics and tar sands pollution in Alberta — beside native lands. These tar sands operations also are the world’s worst climate threat; and the Arctic indigenous peoples alluded to in Olympics marketing actually are on the front lines of global warming impacts, which are aggravated by Olympic environmental devastation (including deforestation, which releases carbon into the world-wide atmosphere). As in other areas of the world, the most disempowered and resource-poor Canadians tend to be much more vulnerable to climate impacts.

Given all of the aforementioned gaps between pro-indigenous rhetoric and actual indigenous realities, why have so many people tolerated the native branding around the 2010 Games? After all, the Olympic brand logo was selected in 2005, and the Olympics marketing blitz was well-underway by the summer of 2009, in Canada.

Aside from the sheer monetary force behind the Olympics, there also are important cultural factors at work here. The harmonious vision conveyed through ‘indigenous’ packaging around the Olympics is an extension of mainstream Canadian visions of an outright “multicultural” “mosaic” in this country — where some claim that there is a complete lack of systemic racism, as well as equally proportioned room for all ethnic groups. In spite of arguments and evidence from critics (including scholars who are affiliated with John Porter’s The Vertical Mosaic), rhetoric about ethnic equality in Canada persists in marketing, in policy documents, and in other mainstream rhetoric. ‘Native’ Olympics marketing celebrates the Canadian status quo, in the same way.

At the same time, the ‘indigenous’ Olympics imagery provides some ethnic spice to the 2010 Games — as well as associated merchandising, and mass media spectacle. In Canada, remnants of native cultures likewise are re-packaged as decorations and tourist industry products. In much the same way, Olympics marketers have sought to increase profits with shreds of de-contextualized indigenous culture which they have appropriated.

But how are indigenous traditions linked to capitalist consumption, mass advertising, mainstream media systems, or tourism? These systems are entrenched on former native lands, but are there any other noteworthy connections between native traditions and such mainstream systems?

(I don’t mean to imply that people with native ancestors will be or should be forever trapped in a receding past. Vibrant, living traditions are flexible. Yet, I do not see how native heritage could be considered to be largely optional in any conception of indigenous-ness.)

Outside of Canada, it probably is not so apparent that the disputes over the Olympics have been national-scale tensions. Anti-Olympic protests (hyper-marginalized though they may be) actually have been organized in various other areas of Canada — well beyond British Columbia. (Here is one example of anti-Olympic campaigning in a city in Ontario.) I also find it telling that, in the face of an anti-Olympic protest in the city that I live in here in southern Ontario, some people conveyed their support for the Olympics by chanting “Canada… Canada… Canada.”

In sum, mainstream Canada claims and re-packages imagery from natives to sell a vision of a present-day Canada that is a tolerant country, with a rich and interesting history; such visions have been produced for the 2010 Games – as well as other tourism and merchandising, and wider nationalism. Then, ironically, when pro-indigenous groups challenge the use of this appropriated iconography to represent ‘Canada,’ majority groups dismiss their protests by claiming a more authentic Canadian-ness. Of course, the refusal to take indigenous protests seriously is just another manifestation of disinterest in the welfare of living indigenous peoples. Even as gestures are made toward native culture, actual natives generally are ignored.

Depending on who you ask, burlesque can either be a tool to poke fun at the Establishment by bringing them down to the “low-brow”, or a way to bask in vintage 1940s and 1950s glamour. It’s a growing art form with plenty of enthusiasts jumping in for a chance to shake, shimmy, and show off. However, with its overwhelmingly White presence, how does it deal with performers and fans from culturally diverse backgrounds?

I’m Tiara, a Malaysian of Bangladeshi heritage currently based in Brisbane, Australia. I started getting into burlesque in January and have recently debuted to the public as Tiara the Merch Girl (after being said Merch Girl at Brisbane’s Burlesque Ball). I also seem to be one of the very few Asian (or at the very least non-White) burlesque people in the area; the only other person I know of is Maiden Chyna, who is as new as me. I got into burlesque as I love performing and was intrigued at the possibility of expressing myself and my sexuality in ways that I was never able to when I was in Malaysia. I’ve seen fallen in love with the sheer creativity, talent, and humour that has come from burlesque performers around the world.

In my burlesque adventures I have noticed a distinct lack of resources, information, or even talent from culturally diverse backgrounds. As it is, there are hardly any growing organised scenes outside the UK, USA, and Australia, with small pockets in New Zealand, Canada, Scandinavia, and Western Europe. While they do exist, they tend to either be overlooked or exoticised. How does race and culture play out in burlesque, and its sibling subcultures such as rockabilly and pinup?

What Is Burlesque?

The word ‘burlesque’ is commonly thought to have derived from the Spanish word burla and the Italian burlesco, which literally means ‘to send up’. The original burlesques, first popularised in the 14th century by Geoffrey Chaucer’s The Canterbury Tales but more prominent in the 18th and 19th centuries, were a form of musical or theatrical comedy that parodied classical opera and theatre pieces in bawdy and risque ways. It was also a means for satirising current political and social issues amongst the middle and working classes. Burlesque travelled to the US in the 19th/early 20th centuries, originally as part of vaudeville and variety shows, but eventually forming into a subgenre that heavily incorporated theatrics, striptease, and elaborate sets and costumes.

Currently there are two main genres of burlesque – the Traditional (Classical/British) burlesque, which is more comedic and satirical, and the American burlesque-striptease, which strongly involves glamour and sexuality. There are also subgroups and crossovers with other subcultures and art forms – gorelesque (which is more horror and Gothic-based), acrobatics and other circus skills, modelling, pole dance, and so on. While individual burlesque performances are as varied and diverse as the people that do them, there seems to be a few common elements in modern/neo-burlesque:

* “Horrible prettiness” (from the book of the same name by Robert Clyde Allen), referring to the subversion of gender roles and beauty norms by having non-conventional-looking women dress up in a often-feminine and glamourous manner, but acting rowdy, bawdy, and sometimes uncouth – like “one of the boys”
* Careful and clever use of music, props, and costuming to evoke a mood or theme
* Telling a story or making a joke through performance
* A light, fun, relaxed attitude that’s willing to send itself up
* Flamboyancy and the willingness to go to grotesque extremes with looks and behaviour

In places like Australia, burlesque performers tend to cross genres and styles; many performers come from some other artistic background and incorporate that into their performances. While there are still divisions over style – Parodic vs Pretty – they’re generally subtle and many performers play around with both main genres. There are also many enthusiasts that get involved in burlesque as a means of expressing their sexuality and body awareness, particularly amongst those that don’t fit traditional beauty standards or that come from more restrictive backgrounds. There are also many male burlesquers, or “boylesquers”, many of whom also work with drag and subverting gender norms. The burlesque scene seems to be more open than most in terms of age and looks; many established performers and new entrants are in their 30s and 40s, with not as much pressure to “stay youthful” as in other arts.

Burlesque Around the World

Burlesque in its “native” style doesn’t really exist outside the US and UK; indeed, the scenes in other countries tend to adopt American and British aesthetics and creative norms. However, the idea of using performance art as means of expressing sexuality, having flamboyant fun, or mocking the upper classes is one that is strongly evident in many other traditional and cultural art forms. For instance, many burlesquers look to Bollywood and bellydance culture as a means of inspiration, with their striking costumes and strong use of music and dance to tell stories, while the Indonesian dangdut scene has often courted controversy for being “pornographic” mainly due to the relatively-revealing costumes and gyrating.

There seems to be a thriving burlesque scene in Japan, with troupes such as Murasaki Babydoll getting standing ovations in major conventions like San Francisco’s Tease-o-Rama and the launch of the Tokyo branch of Dr Sketchy’s, an “anti-art school” franchise created by American illustrator and fine artist Molly Crabapple that incorporates live drawing classes with burlesque/alternative performers as models.

Singapore also has a Dr Sketchy’s branch ( and just recently hosted Australian performer Kelly Ann Doll in residence, making her the first burlesque performer in the country. Singapore does have a strong comedy and variety scene, with comedians such as Hossan Leong and Kumar, and Japan’s multitudes of variety TV and game shows with bizarre and humorous skits make it a strong starting point for Asian burlesque.

China has also started its foray into the burlesque world, with the opening of burlesque and cabaret club Chinatown in Shanghai. It was formed by New York producer couple Amelia Kallman and Norman Gosney, who wanted to bring a touch of ’30s Hollywood glamour to China. Despite its location and rich cultural heritage (the venue used to be a Buddhist temple), the acts are still very American; the girls in the resident multicultural troupe Chinatown Dolls have names like Miss Sassafrass Sassypants and Miss Ruby Tuesday, and English performances make up most of the acts. The inclusion of Chinese culture seems to be limited to a couple of Chinese acts and songs (including a Chinese calendar girl act), a poster of Chairman Mao on the wall, and local MCs making fun of the expats – their core audience. Are they concerned by China’s censorship to not incorporate more of Chinese culture beyond the superficial, or have they just not considered it thoroughly?

In some countries, such as my native Malaysia, it can be very difficult to satirise socio-political issues without getting in trouble with the law. While ’50s American performers such as Gypsy Rose Lee were frequently arrested over indecency charges, Malaysian productions and media have come under fire and controversy for being subversive or for “threatening national security”. (An example of this is the 2001 public production of The Vagina Monologues in Kuala Lumpur, where the performers were nearly locked up for discussing vaginas and women’s sexuality openly.) Therefore, it can be quite difficult to pull off burlesque in those areas: either you’re charged for public stripping or you’re charged for mocking the government – or, as the New Year’s Eve Paul’s Place incident shows, you could be charged for “black metal”.

There’s also the association made between burlesque, stripping, and sex work – they are not necessarily related but often get conflated with each other. While not all burlesque involves stripping – and indeed it never started out that way – modern mainstream burlesque, especially that of Dita von Teese, have made the assumption that performers need to be bare to be authentic. The question of whether or not to strip is still a matter of debate amongst burlesque performers and enthusiasts, many of whom are tired of the dismissal of burlesque (both by outsiders and within) as just “fancy stripping for the middle class” and ignore the rich artistic legacy and creativity available. The idea of women being loud, brash, open, and dominating in the public eye, especially around men – the “horrible prettieness” alluded to by Allen – also runs counter to a lot of traditional cultural norms, which stress on politeness, being demure, and modesty. It’s not surprising, then, that people who were raised in particular cultures may not be immediately drawn to burlesque; they may consider it too much like sex work instead of a flexible and diverse art form that can include as much sexuality as they wish.

Personally I would love to bring burlesque to Malaysia; there’s definitely talent for it, with seasoned comedians, theater performers, and dancers, and the creative people in Malaysia are also people passionate about social issues – such as singer/writer Shanon Shah, who is also active with Sisters in Islam and LGBT rights in Malaysia. Malaysia also has very rick traditions of culture, arts, and social commentary, and it would be very interesting to see how the Malaysian public interprets burlesque for self-expression. The trick now is to pull it off without landing everyone in jail or being accused of hosting “promiscuous sex parties” with Satanists! It takes careful navigation of laws on decency, subversion, and public speech; just the act of organising and hosting a burlesque show in Malaysia could be a lot more political than the content of many contemporary acts.

Burlesque and Cultural Expression

Despite the existence of burlesque groups outside the US and UK, there doesn’t seem to be a lot of variance in terms of cultural diversity and expression. As demonstrated by Shanghai’s Chinatown club, the burlesque presence overseas is still deeply steeped in 1930s-1950s British/American aesthetics – glamour, corsets, spangles, feathers, Moulin Rouge can-can dresses. The challenge seems to be balancing your assertion of your cultural identity (however much you want to) without turning into something exotic or a token.

There are quite a number of culturally diverse burlesque performers in the US, many of whom are inspired by the iconic Josephine Baker, the first African-American to star in a major motion picture and integrate a concert hall, as well as a strong player in the Civil Rights movement and the French Resistance during World War II. Contemporary performers such as Brown Girls Burlesque and Vixen Noir also do a lot of work in encouraging women of colour (and queer women of colour, in Vixen Noir’s case) to explore burlesque and express their sexuality through performance.

What I find interesting, but also a little bit troubling, is that quite a number of performers from culturally diverse backgrounds use their colour or race as their main means of identification. There are quite a few black performers with “Coco” or “Cocoa” in the name, or make some reference to being dark: Honey Cocoa Bordeauxx, Coco Framboise, CoCo La Creme, Miss Coco Lectric, Foxy Tann. The Shanghai Pearl and Tomahawk Tassels use their cultural heritage as a selling point. Some characters, like Alotta Boutte, are obviously tongue-in-cheek references, but does it become problematic when their image is built up on exotic stereotypes, such as Mimi RedLips’s Geisha and Harajuku acts? How about when it’s part of a homage to your heritage, such as Coco Lectric’s Indian Doll?

How about when other performers incorporate elements of cultures that are not their own? Every cultural stereotype has been part of a burlesque act one way or another – from walking like an Egyptian to being a Twisted Gypsy . My burlesque teacher, long-time Australian veteran dancer Lena Marlene, has a Buddhist burlesque act based around fire (her signature prop) and saffron yellow robes. She took up Comparative Religion in university and personally enjoys subverting religions of all kinds. Some others, like Scarlet O’Gasm, have used religious iconography to make political statements – she performed at an event commemorating Obama’s election as President with a routine involving a burqa.

Since burlesque is largely about making the sacred profane, and has never really been known for being politically correct, are all cultures fair game to any performer that wants them? Where do you draw the line between respectful inspiration and appropriation – especially when the cultures often appropriated are heavily underrepresented in burlesque? Is using common stereotypes and cultural iconography mocking the use of such stereotypes in popular culture, or does it just add to the stereotyping? Do culturally diverse performers have an obligation to involve their cultural background into their burlesque character and performances, or can they get away with being neutral?

Burlesque and I

Questions of appropriation are especially difficult for me given my multicultural background. Despite coming from Bangladeshi heritage, I know hardly anything about the culture or lifestyle; I have only been back in Bangladesh for short holidays and am generally considered a foreigner even amongst my relatives. I was born and raised in Malaysia, which itself has a melting pot culture that often borrows from Malay, Chinese, Indian, European, and various other cultures; however, as a ultra-minority I never felt liked I “belonged” anywhere, and indeed I’m very iconoclastic even amongst my peers. Things became more complicated when I moved to Australia in 2006 – what do I say when people ask where I’m from? What culture am I supposed to align myself with?

I have quite a few ideas for routines and acts, many of which involve cultural elements I was exposed to in my lifetime – traditional dances, props like the kuda kepang, songs, even advertising and other tropes of pop culture. However, a lot of these elements aren’t really “native” to me in a sense – they’re Malaysian, sometimes very specific to Chinese or Malay culture. Yet I don’t feel comfortable incorporating anything Bengali or Bangladeshi – I don’t know enough to make the best use of Bengali culture. Burlesque is a way for me to express my thoughts and experiences creatively, and a lot of that involves my upbringing and heritage. What can I incorporate fairly, and what is off limits?

The routine for my public burlesque debut, at Brisbane’s Cabaret Burlesque competition in June, is directly based upon my Muslim upbringing. It was originally a cheeky idea – what if you did a reverse strip (putting clothes on instead of off) and transformed into a Muslim woman? It’s not something anyone’s done before, and the twist would be funny at the very least. Building up the routine, especially the choice of song, transformed it into a meditation on how Muslim women are also sensual and sexual beings in touch with their bodies, despite the assumptions made by their veils and headcoverings. The choice of song, Deeyah’s “Pashto Lullaby (Lori)“, was significant in many ways – besides setting the tone for the act, it also echoed Deeyah’s personal clashes with Islamic fundamentalists over her video for “What Will It Be?“, a feminist Muslim anthem that depicts a woman in a burqa stripping off to a bikini before jumping into a pool.

Tiara the Merch Girl – Cabaret Burlesque – Islamic Routine – PLEASE READ THE DESCRIPTION from Tiara The Merch Girl on Vimeo.

I was rather nervous performing this act for many reasons: it was very personal and heartfelt, but because it was also a lot slower and more sombre than typical burlesque acts I was worried I would lose the audience out of boredom. I am usually a very restless person, but the act required careful focus and stillness – something I had to work on a lot. I was also worried that Islamic extremists would come across my act and condemn my family and I to hell – if it happened to Deeyah it could happen to me!

To my surprise and delight, the audience absolutely loved my act. It achieved what I wanted: it made them think about their own assumptions regarding Muslim women and those who wear the veil. Many people connected with the act and felt it was beautiful, heartfelt, moving, inspirational. I moved my teacher to teachers and received many hugs and kudos from the audience and beyond. And I didn’t even get a death threat! The response was overwhelmingly positive and humbling; I’m glad I took the opportunity to tell my truth through an art form that I loved.

Do other burlesque performers from culturally diverse backgrounds get to express their truth too, whether about their cultural identity or otherwise? How much of a “cultural ambassador” do such performers need to be to be taken seriously? Are culturally diverse performers participating in cultural appropriation when they dress up in traditional burlesque attire – a throwback to Victorian and French cabaret – or play around with cultural artifacts? If burlesque is so accepting of people from various backgrounds, looks, ages, and so on, why are there still so few performers of colour? How can the burlesque world be more open and accepting of performers from other cultural backgrounds, and incorporate them – not just their stereotypes – into their creative world?

The Merch Girl (my site)
Ministry of Burlesque
Kittie (founder of Ministry of Burlesque, has excellent essays about burlesque history & culture)
Burlesque Magazine (Australia)
Unleash Your Fire (Vixen Noir’s Erotic Performance academy with a strong focus on queer women of colour)
Burlesque Daily (by Jo Weldon, headmistress of New York School of Burlesque)
Brown Girls Burlesque:
Horrible Prettiness

(Tiara photo by Darcy Papparazzi; all other photos of Josephine Baker, Murasaki Babydoll, Brown Girls Burlesque, Tomahawk Tassels, The Shanghai Pearl, Mimi Redlips, and Honey Cocoa Bordeauxx from the performer’s websites)

Whether deemed a “must have,” as some contestants on The Fashion Show insisted, or a hideous mistake, the so-called harem pant is back in a big, billowy way. But the resurgence of the harem pant in the long shadow of war in the Middle East –specifically, those conflicts being pursued by the United States in Iraq and Afghanistan– should prompt a raised eyebrow for more than its unconventional shape.*

While I enjoy the intellectual and artistic transformation of the shape of the body through clothing (see Issey Miyake’s Pleats, Please!), I also find it useful to be skeptical of the ways that geopolitical rubrics of race, nation, gender and sexuality are mapped through such transformations (think bullshit Orientalisms perpetrated by hostile fashion journalists about the so-called “Hiroshima bag lady” of 1980s Japanese designers). The most obvious yet often unasked question –why the term harem to qualify this pant?– requires a history lesson.

At the turn of the 20th century, Western imperial forces were busily carving up the rest of the world into territories, colonies, and protectorates. In between the 1880s and the First World War, the “race for Africa” and Western Asia proliferated claims among the European powers for political influence and direct rule in Egypt, Turkey, Persia (now known as Iran), and Morocco. In 1911, the same year that Morocco was named a protectorate of France, famed Parisian fashion designer Paul Poiret “introduced” the harem pant to avant-garde aesthetes alongside caftans, headdresses, turbans and tunics in an Orientalist collection. Those items deemed “traditional” and “backward” when worn on a native body were thus transformed as “fashion forward” when worn on a Western one, in what amounted to the blatantly uneven, and undeniably geopolitical, distribution of aesthetic value and modern personhood. In a Pop Matters column on bohemian fashion (or what she hilariously calls “a competition for Best Dressed Peasant”), Jane Santos details how Poiret both drew from the imperial fashion for Orientalism** as well as contributed to it:

In Raiding the Icebox, UCLA film professor Peter Wollen argues that Poiret’s designs embodied the rampant Orientalism dominating French culture at the time. Wollen describes the lavish “Thousand and Second Night” party Poiret threw to celebrate his new line. He says, “The whole party revolved around this pantomime of slavery and liberation set in a phantasmagoric fabled East.” According to Wollen, Parisian culture was in awe of the Orient, seduced by the Russian ballet’s performance of Shéhérazade and ecstatic over the publication of the new translation of The Thousand and One Nights; and Poiret’s fashions further whetted the public’s appetite for Orientalism. In addition, Poiret’s designs greatly impacted haute couture, and set the precedent for Orientalism in avant-garde fashion.

The harem, as an Orientalist fantasy of sexual excess and perversity (bearing no relation to actual practices of seclusion), depended upon imperial tropes of Muslim women’s sexuality as alternately available and licentious, or naive and repressed. In either instance, the Muslim woman was understood as a patriarchal property and an “undeveloped” personality. But as numerous feminist scholars note, Orientalist fantasies about the sexual proclivities –and possibilities– assigned to the “loose” clothing of the harem’s imagined denizens were often received as liberating for the corseted Western woman. For her, donning the harem pant (or the beaded veil or the fringed “Chinese” shawl) powerfully enacted a series of resonant fantasies about the ostensible transgression of bourgeois domestic life for a more spectacular and sensuous one, defined by shocking indulgence and theatrical intensity.

But in her essay “On Vision, Veiling, and Voyage,” about “cross-cultural dressing” by different groups of women (in this instance, European and Turkish women) at the turn of the century, Reina Lewis argues that the “thrill” of such cross-dressing for Western women was “predicated on an implicit reinvestment in the very boundaries they cross. Clothes operate as visible gatekeepers of those divisions and, even when worn against the grain, serve always to re-emphasize the existence of the dividing line.” About the European woman who indulges in sartorial tourism, “she can enjoy the pleasures of cultural transgression without having to give up the racial privilege that underpins her authority to represent her version of Oriental reality.”

LEFT: LaRedoute’s much derided “harem pant.” RIGHT: Marc Jacobs S/S 07.

What these histories might mean for the contemporary appearance of the harem pant is unpredictable. We can easily observe that we are in the midst of wars waged by competing world powers seeking to carve out influence and rule in the Middle East, and that recent runways reflect certain fears and fantasies about what this might mean.***

But there is also significant categorical confusion with regard to the harem pant, which seems to have become a catch-all term for almost any pant that is loose around the crotch, with seemingly endless variations on the amount of fabric swathing the hips and thighs, as well as the cut and cuff of the leg. Some look like jersey jodhpurs, others like roomier yoga or sweatpants (which often already come with elastic at the ankle). Still others are likened to MC Hammer’s infamously billowy parachute pants. There is no clear referent, no one “authentic” garment, to which the harem pant necessarily gestures.

It seems these garments are tied to one another less through form or fabric and instead through a concept, but the content of this concept seems confused and incoherent. Runway shows or magazine editorials might still pair the harem pant with other Orientalist signifiers conjuring an exotic sensuality or imperial aesthetic (with a pair of leather lace-up sandal wedges dubbed “Mecca,” for example, from Diane von Furstenberg), but this semiotic coherence is often (but not always!) absent from other iterations of this pant form. For example, consider that there doesn’t seem to be much reference to sexual transgression with this loose fit. In fact, the contemporary harem pant seems to be read as supremely unerotic, prompting fashion blogger Footpath Zeitgeist to wonder if the contemporary harem pant deliberately refuses overt sexuality or sexual availability.

This begs the question: Why call it a harem pant? Why not simply call them drop-crotch or low-crotch trousers, which is both more descriptive and much less vexed? Even though retailers high and low are in this game, is there still something specific about the qualifier harem that signals an avant-garde or nonconformist fashion sensibility? Perhaps the dividing line Reina Lewis discusses is a mutable one — it shifts to accommodate transformation and change, but continues to distinguish hierarchies of status and position. Maybe, the harem pant continues to conjure an artistic or cerebral aesthetic against a sartorial norm that decries this silhouette as “weird” and “ugly.” Even in the near absence of an overt Orientalism, then, we might still detect a subtle reiteration of its “worldliness,” a cosmopolitan self-image of adventuresome aesthetes, in the enduring usage of harem to qualify this pant. (This aura is again available only to those who are not, say, Turkish peasant women wearing the shalvar to clean the house or work the field). If so, we might do well to remember that the originality of the avant-garde, as art critic Rosalind Krauss observes, is itself a modernist myth.

Here are just a few of the discussions I found about the “harem pant” in a brief Google search. Some time when I’m not supposed to be finishing my other book manuscript, I may attempt a more coherent critique.

In a long and detailed entry called Orientalism, Culture, and Appropriation, Part 3, Farah at Nuseiba calls the Western fascination with the harem pant a form of ethnomasquerade, writing, “It is through ethnomasquerade that mass culture simultaneously exercises and hides its hegemony over the colonised Other.”

An “old school Hejabi” contemplates the laughter of her “Turkish sisters” as a peasant pant sweeps the Western fashion landscape, posting some images of the shalvar (related versions, and terms, include the salwar and sherwal) as worn by conservative Turkish women for house cleaning or field work and detailing her own adventure in purchasing a pair from H&M.

In fact, a number of the hijabi style blogs find that the newest rage for the harem pant means more options in shopping for “modest” items from mainstream stores like LaRedoute, Urban Outfitters and Forever 21. This transforms the terrain for comprehending the harem pant in the contemporary present. Even while some Muslim women might observe hijab more casually (and often defiantly) in skinny jeans and tight manteaus (and some observe not at all), others are glad for an accessible fashionable alternative that allows for looser definition. Hijabulous, for instance, cracks a playful Aladdin joke before adding, “Hey, I rocked ‘em last eid and they were super comfy!” Trendy Hijab Fashionista puts together some outfit collages with these new offerings on the non-Muslim market. Still more others decry them as resembling “an adult diaper” (probably the most common denunciation of these pants).

“When a hijab-friendly trend does come along, I stock up in case it doesn’t stick around,” writes Jana Kossaibati, a Muslim woman who takes the Guardian reader on a tour as she shops the mainstream stores for long tunics and harem pants (verdict: comfortable, but not as cute on short people).

And finally, Diwan (“Your Gateway to Middle East Chic”) opens their review of the recent London and New York Fashion Weeks with a throw-away Edward Said citation and interviews Deena Aljuhani Abdulaziz, “one of the few Middle Eastern voices to be heard on fashion’s front lines,” about how a Middle Eastern buyer (such as herself) might interpret the harem pant for the region’s cosmopolitan elite.

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* As should the proliferation of YouTube instructional videos on creating what is baldly called “the Arabic eye,” in conjunction with sartorial fascination and social fear about the hijabi, the veiled woman, and all the likely Orientalist connotations of an exotic, because “forbidden,” female sexuality.

** Edward Said famously argued that far from simply reflecting what the countries of the “East” were actually like, the “Orient” was created in the European imaginary as its opposite. As an array of images, ideas, and practices, Orientalism thus produces, through different forms of representation (for instance, scholarship, literature, and painting), forms of racialized knowledge of the Other that are deeply implicated in operations of power (e.g., imperialism).

*** For instance, Ellen McLarney charts the burqa’s post-9/11 evolution from”shock to chic” in her essay, “The Burqa in Vogue: Fashioning Afghanistan” in The Journal of Middle East Women’s Studies, Vol. 5, No. 1 (Winter 2009).

David Carradine was found dead yesterday in a hotel room in Bangkok. The circumstances of his death are outrageously sensationalistic. I won’t go into any detail other than to remark that these circumstances have helped ensure a steady barrage of media coverage. Just now, tuning into NPR in my car, I heard part of a David Carradine interview, replayed to commemorate the occasion of his death.

He was a famous and much-loved actor. Tributes to Carradine are pouring in. In discussion threads devoted to Carradine, you’ll find many nostalgic accounts of childhood evenings spent watching his TV show, Kung Fu.

Some Asian-Americans, such as myself, may find these tributes quite upsetting.

I remind myself that David Carradine was an actor. He was doing a job for money. It’s difficult to draw a work/life dividing line when it comes to celebrity actors, but the line does exist. And I cannot presume to judge the moral worth of David Carradine’s life. He was a human being whose life is just as worthy of respect, just as precious, as the life of any other human being.

But I can judge his career. Fuck David Carradine’s godawful racist career!

For many Asian-Americans, tributes to Carradine’s careeer feel like a cold and bitter insult. Bruce Lee was originally considered for the lead in Kung Fu, but the producers decided America was not ready for an Asian man as a heroic lead. David Carradine was chosen instead. His character, Kwai Chang Caine, was supposed to be half-Chinese and half-white. All the rest of the characters reacted to him as if he were Asian, when he was quite obviously 100% white. This confused the hell out of me when I first saw the show. Once I realized he was supposed to be Asian, it made me angry.

Why did I watch it in the first place? Well, Kung Fu was a pretty good show. It was plotted and shot and edited skillfully. It touched on important philosophical and cultural themes. It was ground-breaking, unique, and had some of the only respectful depictions of Asian culture available on American television in the 1970s. What were the alternatives? The servile, scraping, Hop Sing on Bonanza? Minor characters on M.A.S.H.? A scattered assortment of cackling Fu Manchu-type villains? It would be hard for Asian-Americans not to want to watch Kung Fu. But every time we watched it, we were reminded that it was possible for white people to take the best of what they wanted from Asian culture. Asian culture was mysterious and cool, but real Asian people were unwanted and superfluous. They could easily be replaced by the right kind of white man. And nobody remarked about it, nobody complained… at least it seemed that way.

I was very young when I saw reruns of Kung Fu, but I caught on quickly, and began to dread the sight of David Carradine’s face. I still have some fond memories of sequences that didn’t involve Carradine, such as the training sequences set in China. Then I stopped watching the reruns because the experience became too painful. Sitting there and watching was like… offering your body up to be erased. It’s hard to explain.

Anyway, it was an ignominious start to a career, and it went downhill from there. Carradine milked Kung Fu for as long as possible, and when the milk ran dry, he just squeezed harder, until blood dripped out of the metaphorical udders. He even did a series of Kung Fu workout videos. Quentin Tarantino capitalized on Kung Fu nostalgia by casting Carradine in that pretentious faux-ironic Asiaphile crapfest, Kill Bill. And a few years ago, Carradine did a series of Kung Fu-inspired Yellowbook.com commercials. Get it? Yellow Book? Wink wink, nudge nudge, vomit. In 2009, the heavily yellowfaced Carradine had a role in Crank 2 as a lecherous Chinese gangster named “Poon Dong”. Wink wink… and so on.

I don’t blame David Carradine for all the anti-Asian racism in America. But he had an important and highly visible role in a vicious feedback loop. Audiences identified with his performance of a calm, detached, self-important masculinity seemingly grounded in an exotic Asian tradition. He satisfied certain urges of the audience in that regard, and as he performed, he innovated, and created new and more refined stereotypes with extra layers of self-awareness and sophistication. His performances also worked to naturalize the desire of white people to appropriate the aspects of Asian culture they happened to find most appealing.

In a better world, Bruce Lee would have gotten the lead role in Kung Fu. It would have been a truly great show, not a merely good one. David Carradine would have gone on to other projects, and perhaps he would have become a great and versatile actor, meeting new challenges and truly acting instead of being frozen in the same stale role for decades. He was a man of many diverse talents and could have found fulfillment and success in other realms as well. If I continue much longer in this morbid vein I’ll write a full-fledged alternate history obituary, so I’ll stop… although I would have liked to say more good things about David Carradine’s impact on the world. But in all honesty, the way his choices affected my life turned out to be very negative, and I wish it didn’t have to end like that.

The other day, I came across a blog post by Editorial Anonymous, “The CSK is Dead (Long Live the CSK).” The Coretta Scott King Award was established in 1969 and is given to outstanding African-American authors and illustrators of children’s books.

Editorial Anonymous writes,

“If the CSK were in charge, male writers wouldn’t be able to comment on what it’s like to be a woman. The CSK is saying that you cannot understand what it is to be black in America unless you are black.

“Giving an award for creating art about the experience of race is a wonderful thing. But giving an award for creating art and being a particular race?

“That’s racism in action.”

So this set me a-pondering. Is it cool for white people to write from the perspective of people of color? How about, as Editorial Anonymous mentions in the quote above, for men to write from the perspective of women?

Memoirs of a Geisha was highly successful, both in book form as well as in film form. Yet that “memoir” was written by a man, and Mineko Iwasaki’s own memoir (the retired geisha upon whose life and work Memoirs was based) has hardly received any of the fanfare or accolades that the former enjoyed.

A recent YA (young adult) release, Chains, about a young African-American slave girl who longs for freedom was written by a highly lauded, prize-winning white woman author – Laurie Halse Anderson. Chains has received rave reviews and was a finalist for the National Book Award.

On her website, the author writes, “As I researched [the history of slavery in America] I began to hear my main character, Isabel, whispering to me. She was chained between two nations . . . .”

As a writer, I totally get this. Characters show up in my head all the time without my summoning them up or even being aware of when they arrived.

Anderson also goes on to write, “Slavery affects all Americans today, regardless of ethnic background, or how long our families have lived here. Slavery is the elephant in our country’s living room. It won’t go away until we acknowledge, understand, and deal with it.”

This is absolutely true. Racism (and slavery) affects every single one of us, no matter what our background. White people should be taking it up as an issue – just as men should be taking up the issue of sexism and misogyny –and talking about it, examining it, exploring, and looking for more equitable and just paradigms. And writing a novel like Chains may be this one white woman’s way of doing that.

So . . . what’s the issue? Is there an issue?

There is the view among some writers that one’s creativity or artistic vision should not be limited or “fenced in,” and restricting writers to write only what they know does exactly that. I can’t count how many times I’ve heard some variation of, “Who wants to read about a liberal white woman from New Jersey/Iowa/Seattle?”

However, in an interview on ustrek.org, Sherman Alexie, author of Ten Little Indians and The Absolutely True Diary of a Part Time Indian, as well as the writer/director for Smoke Signals, jokingly suggested a “10-year moratorium for white writers so that Indians can tell their own stories instead of having white people tell them. ‘The fact is, when white authors step away from their typewriters, they’re still white. When I get up from the typewriter, I’m still an Indian.’ He wants those authors to question their privileged positions.”

So maybe that is the key: questioning our privileged locations within the social and economic framework within which we all live, write, and create, and then allowing that new consciousness or awareness to shape our work before we set it free to impact and help culturally define our world.

Alexie’s statement seems less about the products being created, and more about the systems in place that privilege and advantage some over others. In other words, rather than continually going to authors and filmmakers who already have a voice and platform, perhaps authors and filmmakers from under-represented communities should be sought out and nurtured/cultivated so that they can find, hone, and have their own voices heard.

Recently, Mary Ann Mohanraj, author of Bodies in Motion, wrote a terrific blog post about this very topic. She provided a detailed, “how-to” guide on writing about what she terms CoCs – Characters of Color. In a note at the end of the post, she writes,

“One final note. Let’s say you, the white writer, are now deeply interested in Sri Lanka and would like to incorporate Sri Lankan characters into your fiction. I think that’s great, and give you full permission to go ahead and do so. (Not that you need my permission. You don’t!) You write some Sri Lankan characters, and do a great job, and everyone pats you on the back for doing it so well. There’s still one small problem.

I’ve encouraged white writers here to write about other cultures, other ethnicities. But sometimes we run into the problem that most, or all, the representations of a culture are coming from outside the culture. It’s so much easier for you or I to get published in America than it is for local Sri Lankan writers to get published, I can’t tell you. The difference of scale between the American publishing industry and Sri Lankan publishing is enormous…. The point is, given this discrepancy, I feel that it behooves me, as an American author who benefits from Sri Lankan material, to do everything I can to promote Sri Lankan authors. Primarily, that means buying and reading their books, posting reviews, spreading the word…

I wouldn’t say that any writer has to do any of this. As a writer, your main obligation is to write your truth, as honestly and well as you can. If you’ve fallen in love with another culture and want to write about it, please do. But if, in addition, you can do something to help writers from within the culture get their voices heard — well, I think that’s a good thing.”

The Sri Lanka/America analogy can be extended to authors and filmmakers of color/white authors and filmmakers, as well, in terms of privilege and access to those businesses. Next time you go to a bookstore, check the shelves and see how many books there, are in any given genre on any given subject, written by people of color. My guess is that very few genres, if any, will have an accurate representation of global demographics in the titles. And that is because there are so few writers of color getting picked up and supported by publishers in any kind of substantial way (a là Twilight, Harry Potter, The Princess Diaries, etc. And, of course, these examples hold true for film as they were all adaptations of novels).

As a South Asian author writing YA, I know from experience that many editors are hesitant to pick up more than one novel with an Indian-American protagonist written by an Indian-American author – even if the two novels are different genres and about entirely different subjects – because both novels still fall under the Multicultural category. This often creates the “everyone elbowing for the one seat on the bus” phenomenon among the marginalized authors who have to fight for that one lone multicultural spot. But I digress…

Yet, as we all know from visiting our local bookstores, or taking an online stroll through Amazon, there is an abundance of books/films by white writers writing on every subject, in every genre – with more than one writer often covering the same topic for varying perspectives. A publishing house can have several white fantasy authors and historical romance authors, even a few writing about spiritual journeys and all of those books are seen as different books. None of my white author friends have ever had their agents come back to them with, “No, this editor declined because she already has a European title about identity issues.”

I, on the other hand, have heard that exact same phrase, substituting “European” with “Asian.”(And on a side note: let’s face it – we’re writing YA. It’s all about identity issues, folks. Even when it’s not YA, there are still tons of “identity issues.” Is there a point when we are “done” with the identity search? Especially when identity is fluid and ever-changing – depending heavily on geography, changing social and economic structures, etc.? Aaaanyway…back to the topic).

So, my question is this: would having more white writers producing books and films about people of color help writers of color? Would it be beneficial for there to at least be characters of color out there for people to read about and watch on screen, regardless of who writes them?

If white writers or filmmakers write and create the experiences of people of color, does this open doors for authors and filmmakers of color?

And what about the “limiting creativity/artistic expression” argument? Is it reasonable to ask white or male writers and filmmakers to “take responsibility” for the images they produce? What if we extend this to say that authors/filmmakers who have not experienced rape cannot write about or create films about rape? Or artists who have not lived in another country cannot write about or produce films about living in that country?

What about the converse: if men cannot write from the perspective of women, and white writers from the perspective of people of color, then what about women writing from the perspective of men? Or people of color from the perspective of white people?

What say you, oh Racialicious readers? If someone were to write a book or make a film about your life, who would you want telling your story? Would it matter what their background was? Or would you rather have someone teach you how to use the tools of the trade effectively so that you could tell your own story?

“It’s not like I’m just jumping on some cool rebel cause for the sake of exploiting it for profit.” —Shepard Fairey

Question of Appropriation and Tokenism are areas one must approach carefully. Human beings are involved and there is nuance, to be sure. Good can be done with methods that are not optimally beneficial to all parties involved. Furthermore, that cost must be weighed by each person. And yet, shapes of Whiteness move behind and around us, often invisible. They must be named.

I wrote a post the other day on the new poster by Shepard Fairey and Ernesto Yerena, and essentially it was about how my initial impression was of a white artist appropriating culture in the newest culture-hungry OBEYGIANT art operation. I made various comments about the poster art, both complimenting elements of it (I love Fairey’s style, which borrows hugely from Russian Constructivism though he’d like the borrowing to stop there) as well as criticizing elements of the composition. These were not emotional “Eh, I just don’t like it” type comments; they were grounded in a cultural perspective as well as springing from my own artistic eye. I didn’t feel it necessary to temper my critique, because hey, it’s just one cat’s opinion. Little did I know I’d get the pushback I did.

As I have returned to this issue and this post and these people with as much nuance as I can manage, I expect commenters to do the same. If they cannot engage the ideas here thoughtfully, I will simply block them. I had enough arguing back and forth yesterday though I do very much thank those commenters, too. They forced me to delve deeper and to flesh out the ideas that I intuited right away, but had not yet the background “research” as was said, to argue comprehensively. I have done the research now, and I’m sure they will be satisfied that I took their advice.

Overall, the folks at ObeyGiant and/or ObeyGiant Forums did not care for my critique one bit, and they showed up to accuse me of various things, among those that I was reacting out of jealousy, ignorance, fear, and vanity. (In the same comment I was admonished to stop being divisive and feel the love!) The comments were in turns scornful, dismissive, and furious that I dared “spread misinformation.”

One commentor, “almanegra” wrote “[j]ust don’t start trying to spread misinformation that the whole operation was simply driven by a single factor, profit” as well as “you should really look into where the money is actually going as opposed to assuming that the image was purely profit driven.”

Reading back, I can see that it could read that way. No, I don’t really think it’s that simple. So not that I thought my opinion on it mattered so much, but okay. Ahem, for the record: I don’t think Shepard Fairey’s intentions can be said to be purely profit driven. Profits from the posters go to “creating materials for the May Day marches and donations for immigration reform organizations” and that doesn’t seem very profitable, does it. Of course if the “materials” are more of these posters, then the profits are essentially going back into creating what are highly-visible advertisements for the Shepard Fairey brand, as well. But we’ll push that aside for the moment. Finally, the cat who talked to me about the poster one-on-one says he works with Shepard Fairey and he’s an all right guy. So I have no reason to disbelieve that.

However, do notice that these comments seem mostly concerned that I was smearing Shepard Fairey’s motives; and that I was claiming the event was purely for profit. Of everything I said in my post, this is what was really raising hackles. Of course we know how important it is to Whiteness to maintain a public appearance of perfection and how averse it is in having its public image besmirched or its reputation sullied. On other hand, this panic-like flurry of comments could be simple fear of a brand being threatened or the anger that arises when having one’s altruistic motives questioned. Those things make sense, too.

Regardless: my question is where is the outrage to defend the name and integrity of Fairey’s supposed “partner” in this work, Ernesto Yerena? All this outrage is responding to the idea that I dare impugn the motives and reputation of Shepard Fairey.

The point was raised that Ernesto’s part in the making of the poster was being overlooked, but it was tiny compared to the focus on Fairey’s reputation, and in fact, was mentioned in the service of clearing Fairey of the charge of being an outsider looking in; not in the service of celebrating Ernesto Yerena and what his story and reality is. One problem with Whiteness is that it refuses to be de-centered in any area it appears. In this way, Whiteness is like a cognitive disease. It refuses to arrange importance rationally or by any meritocratic ranking, but instead arbitrarily and relentlessly places the feelings and point of view of Whiteness central to any arrangement of credit or concern.

Now I’m talking about a lot of things here. We see that this is not a simple poster discussion. Yes, we’re talking about artistic/symbolic elements in a work of art, but also about appropriation, Whiteness, Tokenism, the immigration movement, capitalism…

I’m happy that something is helping move the immigrant movement forward. So please know that. I really am. The people who suggest this is about petty jealousy reveal their own smallness. And those commenters who say I’m stirring up divisions where they shouldn’t be, well…I just wrote a blog post. I’m not the one who showed up here in numbers to argue back and forth and call names! So…who is being divisive? Again, we are talking about many things. Sometimes what I discuss here is idea based. These ideas can exist along with practical realities in the world; my commentary does not negate those. But some shapes are important to point out. And let’s be real. You are not really so worried about division amongst activists, but about image of the Fairey brand among youth who read me. In fact, I could read that concern in the words that were spoken to me personally.

The artist I spoke to on the phone from Obey Giant was very cool (and I’ll talk about him more soon) but posed the situation as if I were being “separatist.” He was very nice about it, but the assumption in his words was that I was interested in a pure divide between races. “I used to be separatist, but I don’t want to alienate white people anymore, my girlfriend is white… I want to reach the largest possible group.” And yes, I understand that. But see, I am not “separatist,” either. So just let me clear that up! I don’t want a little girl on a poster with a middle finger in the air, or an “I hate white people” pin! And my points were not about excluding white people. There is no need to interpret what I said as anti-white people. Just because it was anti-appropriation.

This is the kind of thing one has to draw out carefully. So I’ll try.

We can assume that ObeyGiant is already sensitized to being accused of cultural appropriation. We can assume this because a) cultural appropriation is sort of what Fairey does as a “style,” and because b), Fairey defends himself from it on his Wikipedia page.

So for me to accuse him of the same thing (and without even having researched, as I was admonished by these commenters; “Next time do a little research!”) surely touched a nerve.

Commenter “A1″ wrote

I understand the fear that a white dude who has gained lots of popularity is exploiting a culture for profit and fame, but you have to believe me that this is not the case with this project. Don’t be hung up on the race of the guy who’s name is attached to this.

But I am hung up on whose name is attached to the project. See…that’s the very point, in part, that I’m making.

I’m hung up on that fact that Ernesto was the face of the artist when it comes to signing posters for the brown crowds while also being the one who was in the hole for the money that it took to make the posters, and at the same time being left off the credit side as another “Shepard Fairey” iconic work is produced and celebrated by the larger culture.

I’ll draw out these thoughts more in a minute. I did speak with Ernesto on the phone, after all. But that is my core complaint. And it is in line with all the things I always talk about when I write online, and have for over three years, now.

Now, while I was chastised by the commenters yesterday for daring to accuse Shepard Fairey of having cash as a motive (cash in hand or measured in increased visibility and reputation, nobody made clear), at the same time, I heard the complaint that I was not properly appreciative of how much money was sunk into such a risky venture!

Commenter A1: I don’t think you understand how much time, money, and effort went into carrying out this project that tackles an issue that most people would be too scared to approach. I respect Shepard Fairey for being willing to attach himself to an issue that many find to be too controversial, and would rather avoid.

Or that I was not properly appreciative of the bravery that Shepard Fairey showed by risking his reputation to touch a controversial issue.

Again, I’m happy Shepard is on board and is helping. Beautiful. Of course, you know that I feel gente need to rely on each other, boost up each other, rise from within. As much as possible, and the more often, the better. I’m not a cookie dispenser for the brave altruists. If I were, you’d now be reading theunapologeticcookiedispenser.org. And you’re not. This wasn’t about how “good” or “bad” the artist was; what his moral fiber is. Or if I gave that impression, I should not have. This is about a shape that plays out between unequal powers, and about community, and about culture. It’s also about a person’s own experience and right to define themselves, so we’ll hear out another view soon. Ernesto’s—the artist who apprentices for Shepard Fairey and who contributed to this poster art.

But let’s address one last commenter before I talk about my conversation with him and my own thoughts and feelings on the entire complex issue of appropriation, tokenism, and the power structures that necessitate these dynamics.

ButchM writes to another commentor on my site:

Also, you are missing the point when you are defending the critique of the work. I don’t think people are concerned with the evaluation but rather the false premise that this was Shepard’s design. It was primarily Ernesto Yerna’s [sic] with input from Zach and Shepard. Ernesto is an apprentice of Shepard’s so his work has a similar flavor. You can criticize it all you want but just know that you are speaking about one of Ernesto’s designs. So that really invalidates the charges of “outsider perspective” or “whitness [sic] problem.”

“It is primarily Ernesto Yerna’s [sic] work”
Is this true? No, it is not. Ernesto told me personally (and I have the audio) that the work was “more or less 50-50.” So, no, ButchM; it is not “primarily Ernesto (you had his last name wrong) Yerena’s work.”

The particulars? Ernesto told me personally that he took the photo, and that Shepard Fairey then took “at least a couple hours” to render that photo down to a style that only showed its minimal contours and detail.

Clearly not cultural appropriation.

I think you will recognize this look of simplified contour and detail I speak of in Fairey’s past work.

Ernesto said he then traced what Shepard Fairey had done “which didn’t take that much [work]” And he added two other color layers.

And no, until someone dropped a link yesterday to cimarrones.org, no I had not seen the other poster that the Fairey/Yerena had made, (below) showing a man with the fist properly raised in the air. Which is good. The fist in the air symbol is not something you can water down, really, as was done in the other version. No offense to Ernesto, if that was his call. But I stand by my comments that the halfway raised fist is about as effective a symbol as a photo of a man about to turn his back and run away from a line of tanks that are facing him. If Immigrant Girl is not intended to be a fighter but “what we are fighting for” as the commenter said yesterday…then put her fist down. And give her a parent on either side. Whole families not shattered by raids and separated by bars or borders—that is “what we are fighting for,” not one little girl.

And the “We Are Human” just does not work for me for the reasons I stated, as well as were stated in comments. This is the name of the campaign, and I find it utterly tone-deaf, though it tries. It sounds like Fairey tried to do his contour-reducing trick on the slogan “No One is Illegal”; make it punchy and short. I don’t care if that’s accurate, really, or how it came about. But I will tell you that multiple activists/raza reacted instantly negatively to it, without even hearing my critique. So take it as you will.

And of course I’m glad gente at la marcha are happy to have free signs, and I’m not surprised! But a mass of people claiming to be humans in the street….what’s the message? Take us to your leader? Don’t mind the saucers, we are Homo Sapiens?

It’s just a weird phrase that, as was said by a compa, “sets the bar way too low.”

Ernesto told me that he was in debt to Fairey until they sold enough posters/screenprints to pay off what it cost to make the posters. (”He wouldn’t have made me pay it back even if we didn’t” he added kindly). He also told me he got to choose the colors. Finally he told me (and I don’t know if Fairey knows this, but I doublechecked with Ernesto to make sure it was okay to quote it) that he chose the colors of the Aztlán flag, the Anahuac people. (I love the colors he chose, but those aren’t the colors of the Aztlán flag that I know of, so maybe I have the wrong flag).

Nota: “Anahuac” refers to the Mexica movement, and the Mexica movement bases its purpose in that we are descended from the indigenous of this land and the borders that came later are invalid. Obviously, this is a hardcore stance, a smaller demographic subscribes to it, and many who do, don’t talk about it aloud as it can alarm those who disagree with the overall idea. The art and statements of the Mexica movement are why one commenter on my last Fairey post tried to sneer and deride UMX by calling it a “defacto MySpace page.” Because often you will see that art and those statements displayed by people on MySpace, gente trying to stand proud instead of being shat upon through the White Lens. People on MySpace are generally younger and more comfortable with speaking pure ideal because they don’t have to worry as much about negotiating the compromises that come with a visible career, etc.

Ernesto was in a tricky spot talking about some of these things. Just as he was in taking part in the art and how confrontational to make it. He talked about not wanting to alienate white people as I wrote above (I didn’t butt in to tell him my family has “white people” in it) and of compromise, too. “I’ll take help where I can get it [to reach these goals].” (”Though I’m totally happy with how it turned out” he added with barely any pause.)

And he is going to be in a tricky spot, when these types of conversations come down. And I understand that and will talk more about this soon. I relate to a lot of it.

My thoughts on Ernesto are that he is a good cat, a sweet guy, a real soul, a Xicano who comes from la comunidad, and who is keeping it as real as he can. He’s 22, he’s doing hard work for the community, he’s a talented vato, and he is walking a fine line—as gente must do when we negotiate these structures of power and opportunity. Finally, he is deeply committed to the cause for reasons more personal than I’ll even state here. So yes, there is no doubt that Ernesto is raza.

Is the charge of a Whiteness Problem invalid?
No, and this will be my final statement here.

On Ernesto’s navigating the outstretched hand of opportunity?

The tricky thing about attacking the Appropriation/Token dynamic is that it is a huge offense to a person of color to be called a token. I know, because I’ve faced this same dynamic. When I was granted a ticket and costs to attend YearlyKos 07 as one of the Chicago 17, I needed to explore what opportunities were opening up in front of me. I felt this was in my path for a reason, and it was, in the end. But I didn’t know what it was. However, I trusted my fate and my path. I knew where my heart was and what it was about. I resented like crazy those who thought they knew better, that I was “selling out” or in some way less a person of color because of my decision. I was prompted to go by many readers and more importantly, I wanted to do this. I felt I could further the cause of what I was doing. I was exercising my free will, I was being recognized for my talents and influence, and I was being brought in as someone who was known to write fiery, unrelentingly ideal-based blog posts. What compromise was I making? But some of my readers disagreed with me and I lost what I thought were some friends by taking that opportunity. Of course, true gente stuck by me. My close amigos. Even if they thought what I was doing was…a mistake, or playing into a Token situation. And some understood that I was going where I needed to and trusted it would all be fine. (And it was all fine, and learning what I did there prompted me in the direction that helped lead to The Sanctuary’s existence.) But I felt a horrible pressure all the while I was making my own way. Pressure from the white funders to tell a story they liked, one that framed them as benificent and kind and altruistic, which is how they saw themselves to be. And pressure from certain factions of my own readership to completely turn away from all things Whiteosphere in the most extreme way possible—to not even go. So I was being forced to defend my integrity as a person of color. By people of color. One commenter even said “don’t be a token!” As it was not meant smartly, sort of dropped both meaning well and clumsiliy, I took it to be coming from outside conversations that were now reaching me.

So I feel bad that Ernesto’s call to me—even if prompted to do it by others at ObeyGiant—served the purpose of his having to defend his cred, his cultural integrity to me. On one hand he was making sure to tell me they were good to him, not taking advantage, really helpful and really open to him; he was also assuring me of his agreement with certain cultural beliefs and allegiances…and that is not what I needed to hear or wanted him to feel he had to tell me. This is what can happen when white structures take you in and use you in certain ways. Not to say you aren’t getting things out of it, too. But sadly, you are the one who ends up being pointed at by your fellow people of color and having to defend yourself and at the same time getting taken advantage of in one way or another from the other side.

It is a painful spot to be in.

It’s very tricky to address a tokenizing system while understanding that the people involved are simply trying to live and find their way to do what they love and believe in, may not see themselves as “tokens,” and must navigate an inequal power structure that may only hand you opportunities once you concede certain things, or hand your more or bigger ones depending on what shape you take, what words you use, how close you hue to a political line, etc. I don’t like calling people “tokens” and I don’t really feel I have that right and that is not what I’m doing here so much as exploring the inequality that exists in these setups that often earn these names. I wouldn’t blame an artist for doing her/his best to spread his/her message in the way that felt right to their own soul. Just as I wouldn’t scorn those holding up the posters and marching. They don’t care or want to hear about “appropriation”; they just want to escape persecution and have their families intact. But as I said, I write often about ideas that can coexist with realities on the ground.

When I spoke yesterday of how I wanted art that people called “icons of the movement” to come from la comunidad, ButchM sarcastically commented “Psst. His [Ernesto's] name is on it. He personally signed every single one of the s/n edition. How do you not know even know that before your wrote an article about it? Seriously.” And then linked me to cimarrones.org.

You tell me. Do you see Ernesto’s name on the poster? Well, maybe we can’t read it from here. I don’t see it. Though most blogs or sites touting the art immediately think of this as “Shepard Fairey” work, I was happy to note that at least some sites do purposely put Ernesto’s name in the credit when talking about this art.

But if you go to ObeyGiant as well as any other site that has grabbed the ObeyGiant press release, you’ll notice something interesting.

The two blurbs being used to sell the poster of mi gente, of nuestra gente—Ernesto and my people—are Shepard Fairey talking about his European immigrant ancestors, and Zach de la Rocha’s star-power endorsement. Don’t get me wrong, I crank RATM like nobody’s business! And I agree that de la Rocha was an inspiration years ago, too, with his music about social injustice. And still is. And por supuesto I’m glad that Shepard Fairey relates to today’s immigrant story in his way.

But where is Ernesto’s blurb?

When Ernesto talked to me, one of the first things he spoke about was his background, his roots. What situation his family is in now. How he has spent time in border towns and how much this issue means to his heart. It was real rap, and it was moving. But why, if he owns a ‘50-50′ share in credit of who made this art, is his story not included in selling the poster? Why, if his presence should negate the charge that this poster is cultural appropriation that furthers Shepard’s visibility and career without fairly repaying or crediting the Brown™—is Ernesto’s story not part of the story of this art’s birth?

Why does Shepard Fairey lead the promo with his story of white immigration while Ernesto’s modern-day ties to this very issue and these very people are omitted?

If there is a clear answer to this that escapes the charges of Whiteness centering itself or cultural appropriation, I can’t imagine what it is.

Geisha cultists seriously disturb me.

Surprisingly enough, many of them are women. They love the geisha mystique, the tinge of nostalgia for a bygone era, the careful artifice, the idea of humans as living artwork.

I’ve enraged a few of them simply by dropping the “geishas are prostitutes” bomb. They tell me they know about Japan more than I do. I’m a lowly mixed-race Japanese-American. I don’t even speak Japanese. I’m pluralizing “geisha” wrong. I obviously have no respect for the traditions of my ancestors. Geisha = serious business. Ha!

Geisha are not very relevant in modern-day Japan. They’re a fossilized archetype, almost like ninja. If you asked a group of Japanese people the burning question, “are geisha prostitutes?” depending on region and generation, you would probably get a variety of answers: “that’s an insult, of course not!” “Well, it depends on your definition.” “Yes, they’re high-end prostitutes.” “I don’t really know.”

But a lot of people, especially white people, are invested in defending geisha, in putting them on a pedestal. And when they do that, it does harm to Japanese-American women and to all Asian-American women. Appropriation is almost too mild of a word. It’s not just theft, it’s domination. Imagine a young girl, on the verge of understanding herself as a sexual being, looking deeply in the mirror… and seeing her mirror image controlled by puppet masters.

I’ll try to explain further. The geisha figure is one end of a continuum of stereotypes of Asian woman sexuality. The continuum is inanimate. Other races have different sexual stereotypes: for example, “animalistic”. But Asian women are neither animal nor human. They’re inanimate things. They’re so passive that they barely even move. On the high end, they’re beautiful clockwork dolls, to be petted and treasured and collected and shown off. The most expensive ones can’t even be bought for money; instead, you have to win them through your superior knowledge of authentic Asian culture. On the low end, they’re doormats, sperm receptacles, happy ending massage girls, completely impersonal and interchangeable, existing for nothing more than a moment’s pleasure. Common sex jokes about Asian women concentrate on the idea that they have “stripped down” bodies — neat, efficient, even machine-like — and facial features that lack human expression.

It’s a fairly simple stereotype, and all this obfuscation about geisha unnecessarily complicates it.

I’ve also been accused of being prudish and anti-sexual when I say things like this, so I’ll try and explain where I’m coming from. I used to say I was a sex-positive feminist when I was young. I don’t call myself that anymore. The plain, pragmatic variety of feminism I was raised in always gave me clear benefits and made me a stronger person, but this new extra label I’d discovered never became as relevant in my day-to-day life. One reason was that I actually worked in the sex industry for a while, in a strip club, and thought it was a horrible environment. I still don’t believe in a unique, essential stigma attached to sex work, so I’ll say that while it was a horrible environment, there are plenty of others just as bad. I did notice there was very little barrier between work identity and life identity for most of the people in the industry. But then, that’s true of plenty of other jobs: bartenders, politicians and police, to name a few. I saw a lot of the strippers get sucked into insanely negative patterns of behavior, getting high on coke all the time, subsidizing parasitical boyfriends and spending what was left of their money on $100 purses the size of postage stamps. Others were instead sending all their money back to Eastern Europe and seemed deeply depressed about having to work there.

I was a cocktail waitress. My outfit, and the female bartenders’ outfit, was skimpy; it involved an ass-cape. We were all selling sex in some form.

While I’m not “sex-positive” I don’t reject all the theories, and I have sympathy with a lot of sex worker activism, so I do want to say this: lumping in all sex workers is bad, and so is splitting them all apart. It’s elitist and deeply nasty to say “I’m the nice clean expensive sex worker, not like those low-class dirty whores.” All human beings should be valued the same. But different people in the industry happen to have different experiences. I wouldn’t call myself a whore for working there, or claim that I know what it’s like for all sex workers, although I suppose I was on a kind of whore continuum.

One thing I noticed that while the environment at the strip club was pretty racist, it wasn’t any more racist than the racial hierarchies at the regular restaurants I was used to working in. And this brought up a question I still wonder about today. Do the actions of Asian-American women have any impact at all on our sexual stereotypes? Does it matter if we look or act whorish or geisha-ish or virginal or nonsexual or work in the sex industry or refuse to work in it? Or will the predominantly white media continue to import and circulate our images, reading into them whatever gets them off, regardless of our reality and our choices? The thought of such powerlessness is really sad.

Many white men (and to a lesser extent, other non-Asian men) have an obvious, direct sexual interest in controlling these images. In the case of Asian-American men it’s more complicated and involves interplay between assimilation and opposition stances, between race and sex, between power and powerlessness. For example, what’s the effect on the psyche of an Asian-American man consuming Asian woman fetish pornography designated for a white male audience? For any Asian-American, male or female, gay or straight, developing a healthy sexual self-image can be a horribly difficult battle.

But the weirdest piece has got to be white women. You would think they wouldn’t have a stake in this dynamic, but the most ardent geisha-worshippers seem to be white women who identify with geisha. They want to remake themselves into treasured objects. They want to steal a sexuality that’s already stolen. The project of arcane knowledge mastery, of transformation, of “becoming”, gives them sexual excitement.

If you think I’m making this stuff up, go to a website called immortalgeisha.com then click on “About Us” then “The Face Behind.”

These women need to realize what they’re doing and who they’re hurting. They’re just as complicit as the anonymous man who shouts a pornographic joke at a young, vulnerable Asian-American girl. But we’re not real to them. Our images provide so much more satisfaction than our reality.

To make a long story short, call me a cranky prude and an inauthentic Japanese all you want, I don’t give a damn about geisha. If you’re sexually obsessed with them, hey, whatever, I’m not going to tell you how to run your sex life. But don’t pretend it’s some kind of noble homage. It gets you off. And you need to distinguish fantasy from reality. If shoes happen to be your thing, do you go to Payless, tell the clerks how to position the shoes and then start masturbating in front of them?

Own up to your fetish and at least try to be responsible about it.

Today, I got three text messages in rapid succession from my friend Hae.

“Check out the new MV from 2ne1 called Fire!”

“Song is addicting!”

“Street version is better than space version!”

I knew YouTube wouldn’t let me down, so I headed over there to see if someone posted an English translation:

2NE1 is just one group in a long line of Korean hip-hop (or hip-pop, according to some, but more on that later*) artists that I have enjoyed thanks to JYP Entertainment and YG Entertainment. While YG is credited with popularizing the hip-hop sound in Korea, both companies have received major success with their artists.

There’s the Wonder Girls:

And Big Bang:

Back when I first discovered Korean hip-hop, I was quite fond of showing my friends this video by 1TYM, called “Do You Know Me?”:

After watching the video, my friends had a range of reactions everything from “Who knew Koreans rolled hard?” to amazement to laughter. But some people weren’t quite as accepting, posing the question “Why do they have to take our stuff?”

Is there a such thing as “our stuff?” I grappled with this question in the specific context of a global hip-hop culture. Six years ago, I was looking up scholarly articles on hip-hop for a research paper when I stumbled across an obscure article in a random journal about the spread of hip-hop in Japan. The article posited hip-hop’s growth was fueled by young Zainichi who keenly felt their second-class status and could relate to the lyrics and culture of American hip-hop.

Ever since then, I’ve looked to see where hip-hop flourishes around the globe in hopes of understanding its appeal. Before hip-hop was recognized as a major influence on youth culture , I found articles, documentaries, and mixtapes from places like Palestine, Thailand, Cuba, South Africa, and Haiti. Seeing what I felt to be “my culture” reflected back at me in so many ways was a jarring experience – everything, good and bad had been replicated and remixed and each hip-hop scene emerges with a style all its own.

While preparing this series on Cultural Appropriation, I realized that the dialogue around cultural appropriation and global hip-hop culture follow similar lines of argument. What constitutes appropriation and what is an homage? When are we borrowing versus flat out stealing? What are the power dynamics involved in this conversation?

The idea of cultural appropriation is one fraught with misunderstandings, minefields of misinterpretation, and other issues. I’ve been struggling with how to launch this series for a while now – exactly, what can one say? The Angry Black Woman opened up a conversation back in January, asking her readers to define cultural appropriation. After 103 comments, there were still more questions than answers.

So, in launching this series, I hope to provide points for discussion, but not necessarily firm solutions. The idea is not to provide a go to guide on appropriation, but to illuminate some of the issues in these types of conversations.

—-
*I’m not talking about the different views on what’s “real” hip-hop in this post. Later, when I started taking a serious look at the trends and representations of hip-hop abroad, I found out that the same battles that happen here occur elsewhere. While reading some back information on Jinusean, I saw the message boards filled with those who claimed that Jinusean was hip-pop and the real hip hop in Korea was represented by groups like Drunken Tiger and the whole Movement crew.

Here’s one of Drunken Tiger’s videos, called “Do You Know Hip Hop”:

It’s also worth noting that Drunken Tiger had a mega-hit in Korea from their song “Sweet Talk,” which uses the same melody as Camp Lo’s “Black Connection.”

—-

“Fire” actually isn’t 2ne1′s debut song – their first one was with the boys of Big Bang, called “Lollipop.” I have no idea why this video makes me so happy. Maybe it’s all the colors. Maybe it’s because one of the girls is obviously getting her Snork on. Or maybe it’s because the whole video is 80s-a-licious. Either way, I love it so here it is:

This post is dedicated to Frankie Manning. Frankie died this morning of complications related to pnemonia. He was one month shy of his 95th birthday. I will really miss him.

Frankie is a lindy hop legend. He choreographed the first clip below and is the dancer in the overalls.

——————————–

In the 1980s, there was a lindy hop revival. Lindy hop is a partner dance invented by African American youth in Harlem dancing to swing music in the early 1930s. Named after the “hopping” of the Atlantic by Charles Lindbergh Jr., it became wildly popular in the 1930s and ‘40s, traveling from the East to the West Coast and from black to white youth. Since its resurgence, Lindy Hoppers have enjoyed a national scene with websites, workshops, competitions, and city-wide social events that draw national and international crowds.

Though lindy hop was invented by African Americans, lindy hoppers today are primarily white. These contemporary dancers look to old movie clips of famous black dancers as inspiration. And this is where things get interesting: The old clips feature profoundly talented black dancers, but the context in which they are dancing is important. Professional black musicians, choreographers, and dancers had to make the same concessions that other black entertainers at the time made. That is, they were required to capitulate to white producers and directors who presented black people to white audiences. These movies portrayed black people in ways that white people were comfortable with: blacks were musical, entertaining, athletic (even animalistic), outrageous (even wild), not-so-smart, happy-go-lucky, etc.

So what we see in the old clips that contemporary lindy hoppers idolize is not a pure manifestation of lindy hop, but a manifestation of the dance infused by racism. While lindy hoppers today look at those old clips with nothing short of reverance, they are mostly naive to the fact that the dancing they are emulating was a product made to confirm white people’s beliefs about black people. Let’s look at how this plays out.

This clip, from the movie Hellzapoppin’ (1941) is perhaps the most inspirational clip in the contemporary lindy hopper’s arsenal:

By the way, the dancers are in “service” outfits because of the way lindy hop scenes featuring black dancers were included in movies. Typically they would have no relationship to the plot; they would occur out of nowhere and then disappear. This was so that the movie studios could edit out the scene when the movie was going to be shown to those white audiences that were hostile to seeing any positive representation of black people at all. If you want to see how the scene above emerged (black “help” suddenly discovering musical instruments and spontaneously congregating), you can watch the extended clip here.

Here’s another clip (not to diss Duke Ellington, but the dancing starts at 0:57):

Both of those clips feature a dance troop called Whitey’s Lindy Hoppers. You can see other famous dance segments in Boy! What A Girl! and Day At The Races.

The clip below, from the Ultimate Lindy Hop Showdown (2006), reveals how powerfully contemporary lindy hoppers have been influenced by clips like the ones above. Watch for how the styling, moves, and trick reflects the clips above:

Another good example can be found here (but the angle, audio, and visual quality are not very good).

So we have a set of (mostly) white dancers who naively and wholeheartedly emulate a set of black dancers whose performances, now 70 to 80 years old, were produced for mostly white audiences and adjusted according to the racial ethos of the time. On the one hand, it’s neat that the dance is still alive; it’s wonderful to see it embodied, and with so much enthusiasm, so many years later. And certainly no ill will can be fairly attributed to today’s dancers. On the other hand, it’s troubling that the dance was appropriated then (for white audiences) and that it is that appropriation that lives on (for mostly white dancers). Then again, without those dancers, there would likely be no revival at all. And without those clips, however imperfect, the dance might have remained in obscurity, lost with the bodies of the original dancers.

As a white lindy hopper myself, for over ten years now, who desperately loves this dance, I find this to be a deep conundrum.

I don’t know what Frankie would have had to say about this critique. But I do know that he loved lindy hop to his last days and he was grateful for the revival. Here he is dancing with Dawn Hampton, another legend of lindy hop, at the age of 94:

I’lll miss you, Frankie. And I’ll keep on dancing, embodying, with ambivalence, all the great contradictions of the dance and the history of this country.

So even though fashion designers have a tendency to appropriate and re-design fashion they witness during their world travels (or, cough, imperialist imaginations), the magazine writers and journalists just can’t seem to find the right words to characterize the collections. Instead of talking about geometric prints, the use of found objects as jewelry items, and color choices in a way that could be deemed appropriate and less offensive, they shade their words with sweeping generalizations and talk about “Africa” like a one trick pony.

In a recent New York Times fashion week photo spread entitled “African Influence on the Runway,” the first mistake made is the usual assumption that Africa is one big country. Morocco has a completely different fashion history from South Africa which has a different fashion history from the Congo, just, you know, as a tiny example. So in the title alone, they end up equating the diverse fashion traditions to one big imagined Africa. To make matters worse, the corresponding article is entitled “Out of Africa.” In reading the captions, I kept waiting for a punchline. The Times was just being ironic and funny, right?

Nope. They were for real.

Photo 1: a woman with crimped hair

“In the 2009 spring season, African style is a drumbeat through the clothes and accessories. Surprisingly it isn’t about the ethnic. Instead, it is the sculpted geometric shapes of Africa and its rich spicy colors that are the strongest forms of identity. Couture coiffeur Orlando Pita created these sculptural silhouettes for Christian Dior.”

African style is a “drumbeat?” Come on, y’all, really? Oh and just in case we forgot, “rich spicy” is not a way to describe food. It describes a continental identity in its “strongest forms.” Barf.

But wait, there’s more. . . so much more!

Animal prints on dark-skinned black women also scream “AFRICA!” in a really cartoonish kinda way . . . I love pink African leopards, don’t you?

Next up, Photo 3: a woman who takes a modern approach to the mumps:

I love the pants. I hate the description:

“The colonial world has also been mined for inspiration. For Ralph Lauren, the colonial looks fell somewhere between India and Africa, with low-crotch pants- those in between sarouel and jodhpur styles that are so a la mode this summer.”

I love that the colonial world has been “mined” for inspiration. What an adorable reference to the suffering of thousands of people in sub-Saharan Africa from the introduction of British, French, Portuguese, and Belgian colonialism. What a blast! No pun intended!!!! Oh and just in case you forgot, India is a country. So is Africa, you know, that big country in the southern hemisphere.

Photo 4: Marc Jacobs gets “spicy” with African masks:

Ok, gotta admit, these are awesome. The writer thinks so, too:

“Shoes are leading the forward march of African style- if you can get your hands on them. When it appeared on the runway, who could have believed this fantastical footwear could be the hottest item for summer 2009? No wonder Marc Jacobs baptized this shoe “Spicy,” giving a name to the shoe, as had previously been the custom with the now-fading it bags.”

Oh “African” style. . .

Nothing says “tribal” like a rouched burlap sack jumper dress!

“The most dramatic example of tribal fabrics was offered by the Japanese designer Junya Watanabe. He came up with bold prints in an African palette of big-sky blue, burnt orange, earth brown and leaf green. Those fabrics were made into pretty summer dresses.”

Next photo: Yup, every African woman I know has flowers growing out of her head. I haven’t been able to get it to work for me yet. Maybe it requires some special secret African recipe:

Photo 7: More headgardens!

Only this time, the cranial forest comes with jewelry made to look like it came from animals that are now endangered thanks to continued exploitation of Africa’s (continent or country? The mystery continues!) natural resources. We’ll look more “African” that way!

“Accessories with an African stamp work best for summer in the city, as seen at Marios Schwab. Bangles are everywhere, from wide cuffs to narrow bracelets, mostly in inventive modern materials to emulate the ivory and horn of now-endangered species.”

I find it humorous that the only time we ever see any reference to people of color on the runway is when they are practically mocking the cultures from which they originated with outlandish re-creations of “ethnic” style. I think it is wonderful to find inspiration in various cultures’ customs and traditions, especially when it comes to fashion, but there are far better ways to discuss said inspiration without patronizing, belittling, or oversimplifying said cultures. To add insult to injury, even in fashion lines that claim inspiration from other nations, the runways themselves remain white as Siberian snow. Diversity seems to only be a possibility when the colonial imagination of the designer runs amok or if he or she is deciding in which nation lies the possibility of cheaper manufacturing. Sigh.

I know, I know. If you’re looking for socially conscious rap or hip hop, you don’t go to Busta Rhymes. But this still surprises me:

Maytha from KABOBfest has highlighted Rhyme’s song “Arab Money,” which has some disgustingly racist lyrics. Maytha brings up some great points about this video, namely, that it is a blatant example of the acceptability of anti-Arab racism.

Let me highlight some of Busta’s rhymes:

Women walkin around while security on camelback

Club on fire now — dunno how to act

Sittin in casino’s while im gamblin with Arafat

Money so long watch me purchase pieces of the Almanac

Ya already know i got the streets bust

While i make ya bow down makes salaat like a muslim

Camelback?! Gambling with a dead PLO leader?! Elsewhere, there are references to growing beards and Prince Al-Walid bin Talal bin Abdul Aziz Al Saud, a member of Saudi Arabia’s royal family known for his success in business (his…uh…bread).

Busta Rhymes’ song (and its fakey Arabic chorus–shudder) is just one more instance of hip hop’s cultural appropriation of Middle Eastern music (producer Timbaland has been “sampling” Arabic songs for years: remember Jay Z’s “Big Pimpin”? That is Egyptian artist Hossam Ramzy’s “Khusara Khusara” that you hear).

Rhyme’s references to Yasser Arafat and Saudi princes create the illusion of ownership: not only are we expected to think that he and Browz understand/speak Arabic and understand Middle Eastern politics and geography, but we’re also supposed to think that he rolls with said Arabs.

When I first heard the song, I didn’t know whether to be angrier about the sexism (Rhymes makes reference to “Middle East women and Middle East bread”—things), the racism, or the casual name dropping in what Maytha calls “baseless stereotypes masquerading as knowledge.”

Not to mention the insensitivity of the lyric “See now I take trips to Baghdad,” as if it’s a vacation destination and not a war zone full of people whose lives have been ripped apart. It’s almost as if Rhymes thinks all Arab countries are as rich as Saudi Arabia and as glitzy as the Emirates.

And if you want to know how much Ron Browz knows about Arabs, listen to this interview:

One point I have to disagree with Maytha on is her assertion that “Elite Khaleeji Arabs need to get off their consumptive high horses and stop making us look bad because of their wanton bougie-ness and hideously hedonistic materialism.”

I disagree with this mostly because blame for the stereotype of the unimaginably wealthy Arab who spends his money unwisely can’t completely be leveled at rich Arabs. Rich white guys spend money on stupid crap all the time, but it doesn’t reflect badly on their race. I think it also does a bit of a disservice to wealthy Arabs who have poured their money into their communities through infrastructural development and investments. But I digress.

The major problem with Rhyme’s song is that it uses cultural appropriation to perpetuate stereotypes, which are not only absorbed by non-Arab audiences, but can be internalized by Arabs. Case in point: Maytha shows us Arab American hip hop artist/producer Noose’s reworking of “Arab money” into an equally stereotype-ridden video. Perhaps it was missing the icing, however: there wasn’t a belly dancer.

So now it’s an Arab man producing this stuff, adding the hookah and the keffiyeh and the (presumably) Arab woman as a video vixen. Noose is obviously aware of the stereotypes that Arabs and other Middle Eastern people face, evidenced from his own lyrics:

Along with the Feds thinkin’ I’m bin Laden

C’mon people, I’m not gonna blow up Manhattan

And yet, he’s just as quick to roll them right out:

Arab money serious

I might buy a pyramid

Maytha’s analysis of the song and its producer is a great one: she says that she “cannot see this as more than a cheap appropriation of hip hop gangsta posturing with a superficial ‘Arab’ twist.” I’d have to agree yet again.

Another thought that crosses my mind is that “Arab” is used not as an ethnicity but as an adjective for money. Which begs the question, what kind of money is “Arab” money? From Busta Rhymes’ and Noose’s songs, I gather it has something to do with an obscene amount of wealth, which is in itself a stereotype. But this is especially dangerous in that colloquialisms are easily twisted (please reference the history of the terms “gay” and “queer” for further examples), and “Arab” could (and in some cases has) become a pejorative term, used in negative ways just like “African”, “native” and “Jew” have been.

This is the problem with cultural appropriation: initially, things are appropriated for a reason (wearing a keffiyah to show solidarity with Palestinians, for example). But quickly, this same appropriation turns into empty name-dropping, outright stealing (here’s looking at you, Timbaland), and/or derogatory usage against the original “owner” of whatever was appropriated.

I can’t help but wonder whether Busta Rhymes will get any Arab money for this album.

If Maytha has anything to say about it, I’m guessing not.

While I was sick, I received a few interesting emails. While in the context of a larger Racialicious team discussion about Halloween, Andrea linked to a Sepia Mutiny post about Heidi Klum’s choice of Halloween costume.

Here’s the costume:

Fatemeh commented:

Though I have to admit, it was a bitchin’ costume, I don’t think it’s appropriate. I doubt Catholics appreciate it when people go as Jesus. I know lots of Muslims would have a shit fit if someone went as the Prophet Muhammad. I know that sometimes Hindus dress up as their deities for plays and such, but I doubt they’d appreciate it for a Halloweeen costumes. It’s different than dressing up as a Pope or a priest, which are human. You’re essentially dressing up as God.

Then, Fatemeh followed up with a link about how Hindu leaders were angered by Klum’s choice of costume.

Interested, I asked Fatemeh to do a post. But Fatemeh was flying to Denmark, Thea and I were sick, and the other correspondents had work constraints.

The following week, I got an impassioned email from reader Naomi, who wrote in about the treatment of Klum’s costume in an Us Magazine article.

Starting with the title, “Heidi Klum Explains Her Crazy Halloween Costume,” Naomi immediately launches in on the problematic nature of the coverage:

This article is horrible and ridiculous on so many levels:
1. The fact that Heidi Klum went to India and all she got out of it was an offensive Halloween costume idea.

2. The “othering” of non-Western cultures by making them look as odd and different as possible without even seeking to understand them or learn about them, proven by the following point.

3. This quote from the article, stated by Ms. Klum in regards to the goddess who inspired her costume: “I loved it because she’s so mean and killed all these different people and [had] fingers hanging off [her] and little shrunken heads everywhere.” As my Tamal friend pointed out–wtf, that’s not the point of the goddess at all.

4. That she is taking a RELIGIOUS figure and using it as a “scary” costume.. And that Us Magazine doesn’t find this offensive.. They even open with the gosh golly quote: ‘How did Heidi Klum come up with the idea to be a scary Indian goddess for Halloween?’

Then again, V.V. from Sepia Mutiny admits:

What think you, desis? My initial thought was that I should be offended. Then I thought, why? Is that reasonable? People dress up as versions of evil a range of characters, including ones with religious connotations, every year on Halloween. And this Kali is a pretty awesome costume. Klum certainly pulls it off with panache. Maybe that’s easier if you’re twelve feet tall and a model. She’s got all the details—look at what’s around her neck and waist!

While Halloween is three weeks in the past, I’ve been playing around with how this fits into the larger ideas of culture and appropriation. Klum’s costume is gorgeous in both execution and the technical sense. But, as the interview displays, Klum isn’t really concerned about the true meaning of the goddess outside of her immediate need for a cool costume.

Thoughts, dear readers?

And while we’re thinking, does anyone know what the hell Seal was going for with his costume?

Last year, a friend of mine told me that actress Juliette Lewis started up a band and that their sound was seriously a rockin’.

I was like “Really? Cool!” since I’d always appreciated the versatility Lewis demonstrated in her acting craft with movies like “The Other Sister,” “What’s Eating Gilbert Grape?” or even “Old School.”

Off to Google I went searching for her website, when I came up with this image:

Oh no, not again.

Another appropriator.

A quick glance at their website and various other fan photo materials reveals even worse.

So then I typed in the words “racism” and “Juliette Lewis and the Licks” since I know sumbody’s prolly talkin’, and I came up with this open letter crafted online to send to her:

(Sent to the myspace account of Juliette and the Licks, in response to Ms. Lewis’ feathered-headdress-as-rock-and-roll-image.)

Hi Juliette (or if not Juliette, Hi Whomever Is Reading This Message),

Someone recently called to my attention how you use a feathered headdress as a part of your “Rock and roll warrior” image. I checked out your website and myspace – it seems like you’ve been using it pretty extensively, and how other people are imitating it at your concerts.

Heads up – the way that you are using of this symbol, which is a clear (and from the gist of what I read of your comments, intentional) reference to “native americans,” is careless and really pretty disrespectful.

I’m not writing this message to jump on your ass, or pretend like I’m some superior person. I have nothing to gain from that. And this has nothing to do with whether or not I like your work (from what I’ve heard, it sounds reasonably cool – kudos for following a different path).

I’m putting this out there because I can’t complain about anything anyone does if I’m not willing to back it up with some action that seeks to change things. And you should have a chance to learn about what people are saying, and change the behavior and (more importantly) the system that supports it, if you are so inclined.

You’re in a position to be heard by a lot of people, and the image you’re putting out there takes advantage of the painful history of native americans in this country without paying any respect to it. This is problematic in the extreme. (And I say ‘native americans’ specifically because your feathers refer to an idea and not any real tribe or nation, from what I can tell.)

You go, you person out there!

But it’s not like this all isn’t a usual occurrence. We in the Native community have to witness this with every kid who dresses up like Pocahontas on Halloween, or every time we turn on the TV to watch the Redskins, Braves, or Indians play. In fact it’s been going on for so damn long that we’re kinda the only race who it’s still happening to on this extreme, public level, to the point where the fight has basically died down. Or has it?

What I find most interesting though about all this imagery, and in particular Lewis’s choice of dress with her band, is actually coming from my raging feminist point of view. In an attempt to appear strong, raw, and unapologetic, people, and in this case, a woman, feels like she has to appropriate Native culture to a pretty extreme extent in order to do a good job of it.

And, as an Indigenous feminist myself, I’m at a crossroads on how I’m feeling about that, because I’m someone who recognizes that the strong, raw, and unapologetic womaness (or feminism for that matter) that permeates mainstream activist movements, in reality was rooted in Indigenous, matriarchal cultures around the world. (I’m tired of having to justify the matrilineal/matriarchal wording battle folks; women had respected positions of power and significance in leadership roles in lots of our societies, so let’s just stick with the matriarchy one, mkay?)

Although you might never even see any of that coming from many of the public awareness campaigns that exist in our communities to, for instance, stay away from drugs and prevent domestic violence. What I see most often are these docile, gentle images of woman and baby saying “Don’t do this, we’re precious!” which while I truly believe are totally valid and worth having, I’d be lying if I said that it wouldn’t be nice to see some of that brute strength and sheer fighter style representation coming from our own community, with our own women seen doing it.

I can’t always personally relate to these peaceful, calm images when I’m fed-up, can’t contain myself angry or feeling oppressed to the max. It’s actually funny that people still think we’re drunk savages who are so primitive in existence, since clearly from everything I’m saying here, I see the total opposite going on.

So why is it that so many of the women in my community don’t want to associate themselves with these shrill, pro-woman imagery tactics or identification? Is it just something that is factually inaccurate about us? Or is there some sort of gender-based, internalized oppression from White, Western, colonial folks going on?

I think it’s a bit of both.

One click onto the Native American House’s department at the University of Illinois will easily lead you to numerous videos from the 2006 Native Feminisms Without Apology conference. They are a constant inspiration and source of vindication for me, who has long identified as an Indigenous feminist to the chagrin of many naysayers, who think I’m just buying into “whitey’s” game and tell me rather vocally that “we don’t need feminism.”

(From the website):

The purpose of the conference was to explore the development of Native feminist thought in the United States and Canada.

Because relatively little has been published by Native women on feminist theory, the scholarly and activist public tends to over-simplify Native women activists’ theories about feminism, the struggle against sexism both within Native communities and the society at large, and the importance of working in coalition with non-Native women.

This seminar provided a groundbreaking opportunity for indigenous women to develop indigenous feminist theory and politics, and centered around questions such as: What is specific about indigenous articulations of feminism? How do these articulations vary among indigenous communities?; Many indigenous nations have instituted gender-discriminatory policies in the name of “tradition.” What do pro-sovereignty, indigenous feminists interventions into these policies look like?; How can critiques of gender oppression and violence be made central to anti-colonial, pro-sovereignty analysis and politics?

While the language of the conference was exceptionally academic (and obviously so since it was being hosted and participated by universities) the ideas and messages that came out of it were quite clear: gender has always been part of the discussion in many of our communities, and our women didn’t take things sitting down.

“Where are your women?” This is what we used to say to the Europeans when they came over to broker manipulative deals for our lands and resources, since it was totally out of order for women not to be present or be disallowed to even make these kinds of major decisions themselves.

Indeed, we are coming from this foundational being of firm woman power that we have so much to honour in and be proud of (that is sorely needed today!), but maybe we didn’t feel like we always had to project ourselves in such a vociferous light since that’s just the way things were, and we accepted it.

In comes colonialism, Christianization, residential/boarding/mission schools, and other forms of genocidal oppression that are still happening, and you now have a majority of tribes that are being lead solely by men, women who have lost their rightful title to the land and even status as being Native if they married outside the community, and soaringly high rates of sexual assault and violence against our women that surpass every other race.

So yeah, we’re in a bit of a perplexing bind where perhaps we don’t know how to identify with our strong woman beginnings since they’ve been A) stolen away from us and B) re-owned, re-furbished, (and I’ll say it) appropriated in many ways by the White, mainstream feminist movement who still rarely acknowledges us.

It’s all definitely worth reflecting on how different things might be if our next generations knew about where we came from and called on their ancestral female strength to make it through these gender-based oppressions that we nonetheless face. I think our job now is to find practical ways to translate all of this into modern terms for our young people to use so they can recover what past generations may have lost, and re-assert themselves as the resilient, fierce, ain’t-gonna-take-any-crap females we’ve always been. Who are also feminists!

And maybe even so Juliette Lewis can re-think her choice of dress the next time she decides to sing. Our culture is not up for grabs to exploit anymore, and it really never was. It’s disrespectful, it’s ignorant, and it’s simply not for her to do.

I look to my community now to reclaim our feminism and put it out there as it once was: strong, sexy, powerful, and most of all; unapologetic.

Discussions about American Apparel’s new Afrika line of clothing on this blog, Feministing and Racialicious sparked some confusion among people who wondered “What’s so wrong with being inspired by another culture?” Nothing, really. But “inspiration” drawn from a historically oppressed culture comes with a tangle of baggage born of generations of marginalization and bias.

It’s all about the oppression

From Wikipedia:

Cultural appropriation is the adoption of some specific elements of one culture by a different cultural group. It denotes acculturation or assimilation, but often connotes a negative view towards acculturation from a minority culture by a dominant culture.[1][2] It can include the introduction of forms of dress or personal adornment, music and art, religion, language, or social behavior. These elements, once removed from their indigenous cultural contexts, may take on meanings that are significantly divergent from, or merely less nuanced than, those they originally held. Or, they may be stripped of meaning altogether.

The term cultural appropriation can have a negative connotation. It generally is applied when the subject culture is a minority culture or somehow subordinate in social, political, economic, or military status to the appropriating culture; or, when there are other issues involved, such as a history of ethnic or racial conflict between the two groups.Cultural and racial theorist, George Lipsitz, outlined this concept of cultural appropriation in his seminal term “strategic anti-essentialism”. Strategic anti-essentialism is defined as the calculated use of a cultural form, outside of your own, to define yourself or your group. Strategic anti-essentialism can be seen both in minority cultures and majority cultures, and are not confined to only the appropriation of the other. For example, the American band Redbone, comprised of founding members of Mexican heritage, essentialized their group as belonging to the
Native American tradition, and are known for their famous songs in support of the American Indian Movement “We Were All Wounded at Wounded Knee” and “Custer Had It Coming”. However, as Lipsitz argues, when the majority culture attempts to strategically anti-essentialize themselves by appropriating a minority culture, they must take great care to recognize the specific socio-historical circumstances and significance of these cultural forms so as not the perpetuate the already existing, majority vs. minority, unequal power relations.

In other words: It’s the oppression, stupid.

A Japanese teen wearing a t-shirt emblazoned with the logo of a big American company is not the same as Madonna sporting a bindi as part of her latest reinvention. The difference is history and power. Colonization has made Western Anglo culture supreme–powerful and coveted. It is understood in its diversity and nuance as other cultures can only hope to be. Ignorance of culture that is a burden to Asians, African and indigenous peoples, is unknown to most European descendants or at least lacks the same negative impact.

It matters who is doing the appropriating. If a dominant culture fancies some random element (a mode of dress, a manner of speaking, a style of music) of my culture interesting or exotic, but otherwise disdains my being and seeks to marginalize me, it is surely an insult.

She loves me; she loves me not

I was thinking about this while reading Daphne A. Brooks’ article on Amy Winehouse in this week’s issue of The Nation. In “Tainted Love,” Brooks writes about the Winehouse sound that I found so compelling on the artist’s two releases:

Black women are everywhere and nowhere in Winehouse’s work. Their extraordinary craft as virtuosic vocalists is the pulse of Back to Black, an album on which Winehouse mixes and matches the vocalizing of 1940s jazz divas and 1990s neo-soul queens in equal measure. Piling on a motley array of personas, she summons the elegance of Etta “At Last” James alongside roughneck, round-the-way allusions to pub crawls and Brixton nightlife, as well as standard pop women’s melancholic confessionals about the evils of “stupid men.” What holds it all together is her slinky contralto and shrewd ability to cut and mix ’60s R&B and Ronnie Spector Wall of Sound “blues pop” vocals with the ghostly remnants of hip-hop neo-soul’s last great hope, Lauryn Hill. Who needs black female singers in the flesh when Winehouse can crank out their sound at the drop of a hat?

and…

Last March, New Yorker pop critic Sasha Frere-Jones wrote that Winehouse’s inflections and phonemes don’t add up to any known style.” Her “mush-mouthed” phrasings on tracks such as “You Know I’m No Good” are, he wrote, her “real innovation,” a “Winehouse signature” that stresses linguistic distortion and sounds heavy on the wine. This, to some, is the sonic allure of Amy Winehouse: her absolutely inscrutable delivery seemingly sets her apart from the legions of white artists who’ve hopped on the Don Cornelius soul train to find their niche.

Let’s be real. These “mush-mouthed” phrasings are anything but new. Winehouse is drawing on a known style that’s a hundred years old, rooted in a tradition of female minstrelsy. Think of the oft-overlooked blues recording pioneer Mamie Smith, the artist who, with songwriter Perry Bradford, laid down the first-ever blues recording by an African-American vocalist, “Crazy Blues,” in 1920. Mamie Smith is hardly an iconic figure like Ma Rainey and Bessie Smith. Her rep as “a vaudeville chanteuse” rather than a juke-joint vet all but guarantees her exclusion from the traditional blues canon. But it’s this background that enabled Smith to draw on a range of styles crafted in part from watching and listening to white female performers like Sophie Tucker and, eventually, Mae West–white women who, as theater scholar Jayna Brown has written, often learned to “perform blackness” from the women who worked for them. It goes to show that there were plenty of women, black and white, who benefited from the minstrel craze.

A black person might feel flattered at what appears to be Winehouse’s deep appreciation for “race music.” One might be grateful that the pop artist seeks inspiration frm African American culture and pays tribute through her style to too-easily forgotten women like Ma Rainey and Mamie Smith. I might feel that Winehouse was executing an homage to my culture, had the addled chanteuse not been caught on video singing racist slurs to the melody of the kids’ rhyme “Head and Shoulders, Knees and Toes.”

So, what to think of Winehouse’s appropriation in that light? It seems that a love of pulsing beats and from-the-gut singing does not translate into love and respect for the people that birthed the genre.

Ethnicity sanitized for your protection

Even if Winehouse had never revealed her prejudice, should black folks be glad that white artists are able to appropriate music rooted in the African diaspora and the black American experience, tone down the soul, market it behind a paler face and find the fame that eludes similar artists of color?

Consider Sharon Jones, the 52-year-old singer who usually fronts The Dap Kings, the band that has backed Winehouse. Jones and The Dap Kings “are widely thought to be spearheads of a revivalist movement that aims to capture the essence of funk/soul music as it was at its height in the mid-1960s to mid-1970s.” Curiously though, after three albums, Jones’ retro belting has earned her cult fame but none of Winehouse’s success. Thin, young, white and tragic sells so much better than dark, plump and middle-aged.

There is a long history of of white musicians being inspired by black music and finding fame with an “exotic” but safer sound, while their black muses languished in obscurity. Without diminishing the impact of artists like Elvis and The Rolling Stones on the popular music scene, surely it is clear that they benefited from a culture that would never allow a bluesman like Robert Johnson to gain mainstream prominence. The fresh sounds that electrified rock audiences weren’t really so fresh, just appropriated from an artist and culture made invisible by racism.

There’s the rub

What’s so wrong with being inspired by another culture? I’m not sure how to answer, because borrowing from a historically oppressed culture is not as simple as some would want it to be. Fair or not, there are hundreds of years of meaning behind that faux African print dress, that Motown-inspired tune and the silent Harajuku posse. I haven’t even touched on the stickiness of appropriating religious items and culture. (With Halloween on the way, we’ll all have a great opportunity to witness all the ways Americans “pay homage to” the West African religion of Voudou.) For many people of color, it’s nearly impossible to unhook what the mainstream believes is harmless cultural borrowing from the broader experience and history of our people. “Harmless” is really in the eye of the beholder.