Altovise's Research and Scientific Racism?

So I went to Altovise Ewing’s talk on cancer genetic research, and I ended up having a few questions that I wanted to “outsource” to the class – just a few questions that made me suspicious of Ewing’s research as well as genetic research/testing as a whole. To begin with, I think we need to start in 1932 with the beginning of the Tuskegee syphilis study, a horrendously unethical study in which black men were subjugated as test animals even after a viable treatment, penicillin, was discovered. Even more than that, I think we also need to take note of Henrietta Lacks, a black woman who had biomaterial removed from her body which was used in research for decades without her knowledge or that of her family. In light of these cases and countless others, we begin to see that the medical profession has continuously and inhumanely mistreated black folk. Moreover, this discrepancy is where Altovise started her research. When she began her career in cancer research, she quickly took note of the extreme absence of black folk in research studies. Afterward, she immediately began her own additional study to find out why black folk were absent in these kinds of research studies and how to get them more involved. She argued that black folk were “hurting themselves” because they were absent in these kinds of studies. By the simple fact that they were absent, they were removing their needs from the medical community. From then on, it would be more difficult to diagnose black folk and treat their genetic diseases such as a more lethal form of breast cancer that is found primarily in black women. Ultimately, Altovise found that black folk had a fundamental and historical (harking back to those examples in the beginning) distrust of the medical profession and were on the whole less likely to go to the doctor, participate in research studies, or give any kind of biospecimen to medical professionals. In the end, she stressed the point that if black folk did not begin to partake in more medical research that it would be detrimental to their own health and put them at a more unequal footing in contrast to white folk who already have better health care, more access to health professionals, and wider base for medical research already completed.

Now for the questions:

1.     When Ewing began to speak on this divide between black and white medical research, I started to think back to scientific racism, this evil tool used to superiorize and inferioirize, and accordingly, is stressing this “difference” between black and white genetic research a good thing? Even more, is it problematic because she left out brown folk in her talk and her study?

2.     Secondly, also in her talk she brought up that black men were far less likely to participate in medical research than black women. Why do you think that is? Is it because of this hyper-masculinized stereotyp of black men?

Black Artists in Red

Throughout our readings and my search for a primary source, I continued to find this enduring dream of communism and communist uprisings, this fantastical vision of a near magical future where equality, equity, and social justice were common and taken for granted. Even more, I continued to stumble upon these poets, writers, authors, and artists supporting and visiting the USSR; they continued to dream of this revolution, this national uprising that would give them a voice and their humanity. Richard Wright, Ralph Ellison, and Langston Hughes were all communists praising the USSR society and propagating this new image of a “better” society. Moreover, though we learn about these authors in school, we never publicize or mention their political beliefs. For instance, when we discuss Langston Hughes and his life, we discuss his PG-rated poems, we use censored verses to express his ideas and the renaissance of Harlem, ignoring those Langston ideas that clash with American society, those ideas that call into question white supremacy and those investments into whiteness. For instance, Hughes wrote a poem entitled “Ballad of Lenin,” yet we never learn about it or this part of his life, the years he spent in the USSR and his ideas that grew out of those experiences. In this poem Hughes leaves almost no room for interpretation:

            Comrade Lenin of Russia,

            High in a marble tomb,

            Move over, Comrade Lenin,

            And give me room

            I am Ivan, the peasant

            Boots all muddy with soil.

            I fought with you Comrade Lenin.

            Now I’ve finished my toil.[1]

Ultimately, Hughes Wright, and Ellison believed int he revolution: "Put one more S in the U.S.A/ TO make it Soviet/ One more S in the U.S.A/ Oh, we'll life to see it yet." [2] They believed in these ideas because they were ostracized from every other ideology: they were removed from democracy; they were dehumanized by capitalism, and they were exiled in Christianity. Though some of them eventually lost this dream, many black activists continued and continue to use this communist dream of racial justice through revolution and action. They used and use this ideology to fulfill their dreams of racial equality and justice, and as a result, whiteness hides this reality from our schools. We teach a whitened image of Langston Hughes because his model of blackness vying for equality and justice threatens white supremacy and white investments. We hid and continue to hide it, because it scares our white selves.

---

[1] Langston Hughes, “Ballads of Lenin,” Accessed February 21, 2017, http://poetrynook.com/poem/ballads-lenin.

[2] Langston Hughes, “Langston Hughes: Communist Poet,” Accessed February 21, 2017, https://stalinsmoustache.org/2013/01/23/langston-hughes-communist-and-one-of-the-greatest-us-poets-of-the-20th-century/.

Meditation on Robin D. G. Kelley’s response to Cedric Robinson’s idea of “racial capitalism”

After reading Kelley’s explanation of Robinson’s idea of “racial capitalism,” I was caught off guard and a bit daunted by his comparison between medieval feudalism and current racial capitalism. Kelley argues that in the current political climate of state-sanctioned violence and mass incarceration, Robinson’s concept of modern racial capitalism is relevant and even predictable in the context of the history of the West.

            The United States is in the midst of a widening economic gap between the rich and the poor, and it’s only supposed to get worse in the coming four years because of the proposed political policies favoring The 1% and disenfranchising The 99%. Robinson argued that true leadership came from among the people rather than above the people – that is to say that the Leader cannot be a King figure but a People’s figure (this is especially interesting to consider given the amount of executive orders coming from the Oval Office these days). Basically, Robinson asserted that vertical organization does not work because it disenfranchises someone inherently based on the intertwined histories of feudalism and capitalism. Horizontal organization is what’s up, y’all.

            Personally, the most mind-blowing part of Kelley’s breakdown of Robinson’s idea was the idea that capitalism is not an equalizer (a.k.a. equal opportunity for advancement) but a great divider coming out of a feudal tradition of racialized hierarchies in the Middle Ages. Feudal economies thrived on the large-scale disenfranchisement of peasants – serfs owed their livelihoods and safety to rich landowners (sharecropping, anyone?). This is all to say that the United States simply evolved out of the system of feudalism and created the institution of slavery and then segregation based on the same model.

Therefore, modern capitalism in the U.S. (favoring The 1%) is predictable and should not surprise any of us. The culture we’re experiencing is grounded in a tradition of domination rather than equal opportunity. Without re-thinking what we consider to be “real leadership,” we might be destined to repeat the same pattern of progress that Medieval Europe cycled through. I don’t want to make assumptions, but I would argue that some of the Despots would say that it didn’t turn out so well for them.

Anti-Government Pro-Intervention

As we transition into thinking about the Black anti-war movement, I want to bring attention to Bayard Rustin’s “Jim Crow Army” as an example of the challenge to segregation posed by opposing war and military growth. Aside from the fact that war seeks to disenfranchise the most marginalize members of societies, the segregation of the US military reflects the violence against Blacks.

Given in 1948, Rustin’s speech encouraged Blacks to actively protest the draft and refuse enlistment. This is a continuation of the stipulation held by many other Black male activists during the World War 2 era and focused on White awareness in addition to Black action.

His speech urges the intolerance of human rights abuses which, he argues, is not a reason to support war but a reason to condemn it. If one values human rights, violations of those rights in one’s own country should be attacked first. The goal of eliminating intolerance nationally before internationally should be a priority of the United States. This is a pick-and-choose value system in which an individual’s race determines their humanity. One could also argue, though Rustin does not, that the United States has a long history of international political interference, especially when violence in concerned. Furthermore, the United States is symptomatic of a marriage of the White Savior complex and Voluntourism.

Additionally, the United States projects an international reputation of progressive authority while national racial tension continually builds. With suppressive actions aimed at degrading progressive movements, the US likes problems that are both distant and solvable, meaning that US government intervention in social affairs is most commonly manifested in foreign politics that appear easier than systemic racism and poverty. Inequality is a difficult issue that requires effort, funds, and experts, while foreign affairs require less monetary and official investment to claim success.

The US government continually prioritizes ease and prestige over domestic welfare and minority security. It is for this reason that Rustin and so many other leaders utilize the capital available to them, individual bodies, to protest and prevent the actions removing funds and attention from their dire cause.

In the construction of his speech, it is worth noting which pieces of the above opinions Rustin includes to form his point. The focus on community autonomy over government actions illustrates his perception of the issues that will move his audience and are markedly similar to Philip Randolph’s “Why We Should March” as well as other speeches from the March on Washington Movement even though it comes at a later time. This becomes especially interesting when we study activism and rhetoric.

Passing as Persurverance

This is an image of three Harlem women taken around 1925 during the Harlem Renaissance. Passing, or being perceived as the dominant characteristic while in fact belonging to a minority, as White presents its own sets of challenges, rewards, and detriments. Because race is a social construct, the definitions of “Black” has shifted through US history. Due to intense racial boundaries and borderism surrounding non-Whites, the passing of mixed-race Black people becomes a necessity for avoid physical and emotional violence. In order to preserve the self, both physically and mentally, many Black women turned to avoidance of racial issues altogether, attempting to pass as White. Racial perils such as being outed as Black (because being mixed-race with anything other than White still meant racial discrimination on racial basis) was a common terror used to increase border control and maintain racial barriers. Navigating social pressures and oppression, Black people trying to pass as White were often seen by the Black community as traitors. Feeling betrayed in the choice of Whiteness over Blackness in personal identity created rifts throughout the Black community an regularly resulted in suppression between racial minorities.

Personal identity erasure is often psychologically detrimental and can manifest itself through isolation, fear, guilt, paranoia, and self-hate. The racial pressures that must be evident in order to suggest to people that passing as white is beneficial, must be intense to mitigate these detriments. Striving to pass as White, in an attempt to either distance yourself from Blackness or further your connection with Whiteness, proves the impact of the veneration of Whiteness on a large scale and should serve as evidence as to the inherently destructive quality of hegemonic cultures. It should come as no surprise that this is yet another reason supporting the intersectionality of inclusive minority movements.

This need to protect the self from racial violence not only strengthens the argument for inclusive movements for mixed-race people, but also urges recognition of specific activism efforts for this group as they are impacted by racism differently than others in the Black community.

The Abusive Relationship Between Memory and Movements

There is a major difference in the treatment of figures who are deemed “ahead of their time” and “a product of their time”. This difference is something necessary to explore if we are to understand the relationship the public, especially the Southern US, has with our own history. Figures are termed “ahead of their time” when they exhibit more “modern” or “advanced” ideologies that support the progression of a marginalized group of people who are usually excluded from mainstream movements. In other words, these figures believed in philosophies that align with more contemporary standards than expressed by mainstream movements and countermovements. As such, these people are deemed “ahead of their time”. Conversely, figures who are “a product of their time” usually exhibit the values of their time period.

While the former requires proof of ideology, such as records of actions that promote “unpopular” progressive ideas, the latter requires no direct evidence of their work or words, and may only be their participation in what today’s standards would be considered oppressive groups/events. This difference derives from the fact that it is easier to condemn than to celebrate, meaning that progressives must be unwavering while regressive have more room within heir definition. As such, these defining constraints colloquially favor figures as “a product of their time”. Furthermore, the fact that the actions of regressive figures can be excused while progressives are subject to intense scrutiny further marginalizes minority groups and devalues progressive movements. This differential treatment is due largely to the fact that, as a society, we are uncomfortable with social progress that threatens the hegemonic majority. As such, the framing of history and historical figures is one that seeks to make oppression more acceptable than progression. While it is true that an imperative aspect of socialization is normalization of oppression at the expense of marginalized peoples, the actions of historical figures should not be excused. Rather, more critical historical work should be demanded and veneration of such figures “in spite of their faults” should be discouraged.

This is particularly significant as we look at the presence of public memory expressed in public spaces. By celebrating and commemorating problematic figures, we normalize their actions in addition to excusing their abuses. While there is a balance between ignoring or rewriting the unsavory aspects of American past, actively commemorating and educating instead of celebrating regressive figures needs to be emphasized. Continuing to normalize oppressors prioritizes saving face over the safety of minorities. The South needs to take a hard look at their figures and the excuses used to maintain authority long after the (supposed) demise of oppressive ideals.

Dead Impacts: Selective Renditions

In thinking about why Turner is buried as a historical figure, we must consider why anyone is buried. With an indisputably impactful character such as Turner, we can safely rule out the justification that he is no longer relevant. If history itself lays claim to the importance and relevance of Turner, the only reason for dismembering him would be those of whom his memory threatens. Two groups, in particular, stand out in this category as those whose motives are hindered by Turner’s legacy: those who support White society and those whose vision of the movement for progress does not include radicalism. For the former, Turner is rejected on the basis that he opposes the authority at the base of White society, attempting to remove power from the hegemonic system and redistribute it in the form of agency and action to those oppressed. As such, Turner is far from the insignificant figure his lack of popularity would suggest. On the contrary, his threat results in the overpowering of his message by discrediting and undermining the figure. The latter group seeks to cover up Turner’s legacy because he contrasts their methodology for social change. By failing to play into the movement’s methods, Turner is seen as a hindrance in achieving progress. This is heavily related to respectability politics in that if a figure is radically defiant of oppression in means outside the accepted realm of resistance ideology, they are thus stripped of their association with the movement so as not to hinder it.

Both of these reactions to Turner are forms of not only suppression, but oppression. Both groups are rejecting Turner on the basis that he is too progressive and therefore unfit to exist in public memory. This creates rifts within communities and societies that forces those who have similar goals within movements to selectively choose aspects of their identity or ideology over others in order to be accepted as a part of the movement at all. As such, the most marginalized people are rarely included in progressive movements as they become increasingly mainstream. People that are too “complex”, too radical, too much are disallowed from groups despite working toward similar goals. This further strengthens the White society that insists that there is a right way to exist. So long as movements dictate the inclusivity of oppressed peoples as illegitimate, the more successful White power is in weakening their forces and subduing power shifts necessary for justice.

Joey Bada$$ Speaking Old Truths

For those of you that don’t know Joey Bada$$, you should get to know him. He is a fairly new rapper/actor, rapping “Devastated” and performing in the show, Mr. Robot. His newest song, “Land of the Free,” kept reminding me of the same problems that we have been complicating in this class. For instance, in one of his first lines, Joey raps, “Full house on my hands, the card I was dealt/ Three K’s, two A’s in AmeriKKKA.”[1] From the beginning he realizes the actualities of American society: the full hand (the resistance of the United States to accept difference and people), the cards he was dealt (the realities that he has to live with such as oppression and prejudicial justice), and the three K’s in America (the living and breathing racism throughout the American landscape and mindset). “Sometimes I speak and I feel like it ain’t my words.”[2] Joey realizes what so many activists before him have realized and fought. When Mitchell, Walker, and other black activists speak to a city of disenfranchised black folk, they realize that they are talking to a dehumanized population. They realize the effects of mass discrimination and segregationist practices, and thus, they try and give them a voice, a sovereign voice in newspapers, meetings, and sometimes at picnics: places both physical and symbolic where voices could ring free. 

Even more, Joey actualizes this body-prejudice dynamic that has been plaguing my own ideas and activism throughout its inception. Hence, he raps, “In the land of the free, it’s for the free loaders/ Leave us dead in the street then be your organ donors/ They disorganized my people, made us all loners/ Still got the last names of our slave owners.”[3] In these few lines, he reifies this physical object of black America and the “problems” held therein. He illustrates the realities of segregationist policies that affect health, the manipulation that was put into action therefore, the name beholden to those black bodies, and the action that is correlated with divisive separationisms in black spheres. Ultimately, this song stood out to me because of its connections with black, historical activism, challenging and discussing the same problems and the same obstacles. 

In his last verse, he sings, “All our history hidden, ain’t no liberty given,” realizing this silence in black/African American historical education that ultimately affects the perceptions of our world and the ignorance of activisms and activist activities.[4] Moreover, he pushes the envelope in regards to religion in his final lines, “The lord won’t get you acquitted, but still ask for forgiveness/ Put opiate in syringes then inject his religion/ How many times do I gotta tell you I’m a man on a mission.”[5] In the end, his voice reverberates throughout the history of black activism and this complication with Christianity, this division that fuels and counters activist realities; he finally realizes his religious voice, “I’m a man on a mission”: the first step toward activist credibility and reality, simultaneously questioning and denouncing white Christianity for the truer, more just black God.

---

[1] Joey Bada$$, “Land of the Free,” (2017; New York: Cinematic Music Group), Song.

[2] Ibid.

[3] Ibid.

[4] Ibid.

[5] Ibid.