Another Artistic Interpretation of African American Activism

Thinking back to our in-class activity of depicting African American Activism throughout time, I kept thinking of modern pieces of African American art I’ve seen in museums, plays, movies, shows, and everything else. More specifically, I kept thinking of the piece of art placed at the entrance of the National Civil Rights museum downtown. For those of you who don’t remember or haven’t been, it’s a giant slab of metal that has this ambiguous form and shape. You walk around it, thinking about what it could be. You see these people, these humans, on the surface, struggling for life and breath, struggling to make it “up” this metal wall, but when you look up, there seems to be nothing of value at the top. You continue to circle it again and again (people start to stare at you). You catch glimpses of Dante’s Inferno. With the struggling human figures, you get the sense that they’re in this hellish place of punishment and strife. They struggle for room and light; they struggle with their families and their partners; they struggle for existence. Finally, you realize what the amorphous metal shape in the center of the room is. You realize that from all sides, it takes the basic form of the United States. You can now see the struggling forms throughout the South, the North, the East, and the West. Throughout the United States there were these struggling humans, trying to live and prosper but limited by the mere environment they inhabited. In this depiction of African American life, you get the sense of universal activism: this sense that mere actions of resistance were activisms, that mere actions of refusal to conform were activisms. In this scene, I wanted to share that we see yet another interpretation of activism, yet another depiction akin to our own, yet another viewpoint to form the multiplicitous environment of activisms that have formed and grow throughout African American Activism, in an environment that takes form in the very hardships detailed and portrayed by this artist’s creation.

NPR News and Communism in the South

        Going through some sites yesterday, I stumbled upon a NPR news segment that was aired in 2010. It had a doubtful title, and I was intrigued, “How 'Communism' Brought Racial Equality to The South.” It confused me because it presupposed the end of inequality in the South. Moreover, it supposed the actualization of communism in the South and its ideals. However, as we well know, communism never gained enough traction to threaten “democracy” in the Deep South, and widespread inequality still exists throughout the United States, especially in the South.

        As I was scrolling through the transcript, I stumbled upon the name Robin Kelley and the title, Hammer and Hoe: Alabama Communists During the Great Depression. It was a transcript of an interview with him about the very book we were reading in class, and so, of course, I had to continue reading. 

         Not surprisingly, they began to discuss some of the very same things that we discussed in class: these multiple title accumulations (Black, poor, communist, radical), the racial makeup of the Alabaman Communist Party, and the Scottsboro case. Shortly, they went over some of the basic bullet points we hit on in class; however, they also discussed some of the stories that were only referenced in the text. For instance, Kelley tells the story of a common party practice put in place if one of their community members were cut-off from social programs or welfare. He describes how the party would send dozens or hundreds of penny postcards to the social worker in charge of the case with the words, “The workers are watching you,” written on the back to send a message and to push the envelope (Robin Kelley, interview by Michel Martin, National Public Radio, 91.1 NPR FM, February 16, 2010).     

         Following, they discussed the party’s religious affiliations in light of their communist background, illustrating the continued religiosity of the black community even in light of “godless communism.” In this way, Kelley tried to shunt off those common and misconstrued antagonisms of both the black community and communism. Even more, throughout the entire interview, Kelley and Michel spent their time trying to deconstruct some of those stereotypes that limited and limit social progress in the United States, especially in regard to communism, and ultimately, they described as well as humanized. They try to connect the listener with those historical, communist figures of the American South, humanizing them and connecting with them all the while, hoping for some future wherein social justice and change could take place in the eyes of communism and for those black folk that gave their lives for their future and for their community’s future. 

Miles Davis's Kind of Blue and the Art of Escapism

Miles Davis - Kind of Blue (1959) 

Although Miles Davis's jazz record Kind of Blue (1959) contains a dreamlike quality and perpetuates feelings of serenity, I am intrigued by the narrative that Davis is attempting to create with this music in relation to the time period. In the YouTube link containing the full album, there are accompanying pictures of Davis for each of his songs. What struck me was the image of Davis during the track “Blue in Green.” In the picture, Davis is in a reclining position with his eyes closed, furthering the album’s overall smooth composition which triggers the qualities of being at peace. Even the titles of the tracks on Davis’s albums, such as “So la What” and “Freddie Freeloader,” prescribe to this relaxed disposition. 

However, I am critical of this perception of tranquility because of Davis’s racial identity at the time of the album's creation. Kind of Blue seems to give off the impression that the mid-twentieth century was a time in which there was a sense of nonchalance on the topic of upward mobility, leading me to question the audience and accessibility of this album. Just four years prior to the record’s release, a young Emmett Till was lynched, because the color of his skin infringed upon the sanctity of the southern way of life and white supremacy, signifying the height of racial tensions. It is evident that Davis created a new sound for jazz through the “modal” style. Potentially, this experimentation with different scales and sounds could have been an outpouring of Davis’s racial dialogue. Due to its widespread popularity, could this album have legitimately transcended beyond racial boundaries?

It is essential to note that Davis created Kind of Blue at the wake of the Civil Rights Movement. Under this context paired with the record's tone, I argue that this album evokes a sense of escapism as a means to cope with the political landscape of America at the time.  As we have mentioned during our class sessions, art often promotes activism through its cultural message. In this case, Davis's album serves as an escape from the political and social climate of the mid-twentieth century. Could it be argued that the artistic creation of Kind of Blue fits under the category of activism since this escapism could be understood as a form of survival? Additionally, in dialogue with the creation of spaces for African Americans, Davis is actively contributing to an artistic and cultural space for African Americans. Could this album be making a platform for black people to survive through hardships, or is it curtailing the resistance against racial disparities? 

Reflections on Henry McNeal Turner

What is the de-gendering or re-gendering, recoloring de-coloring of God?  In the Christian tradition the conceptualization of God is white, male, old, etc.  What does that do to the Christian psyche, what structures does that uphold, what does it prevent from forming? Our understanding of god as male leads to our social interactions so if the epitome and creator of our existence is imagined as white and male, then that is, to the theist, subconsciously supreme.  In Henry McNeal Turner's article, "God is a Negro," this reclaiming through recoloring is very much a form of activism.  It recaptures (or liberates) religion.  

Turner is revolutionary because he is completely transforming the predominant Western concept of God.  One's concept of god arguably determines one's relation with others.  Can we embrace God intimately if we cannot understand God in an intimate sense.  If people of color conceptualize god as white, within a context of white supremacy, then how could god  not be seen as oppressive, god is no longer liberator. 

Howard Thurman picks up where Turner left off in Jesus and the Disinherited, where Thurman argues Jesus had the experience of an oppressed person in his lifetime as Jew under the Roman empire.  White theology does not wrestle with privilege and oppression dynamics of the Gospels, but Thurman brings these dynamics to the reader's attention.

The Fire of Claudia Jones: Fueled by Political Hope

Having just read Claudia Jones' 1940 essay "Jim Crow In Uniform," her passion jumps off the page.  Her criticism of the US War effort does not stay shrouded in pessimism, but she roots her progressive ideals in political hope.  That political hope was in the Communist Party USA and in particular the Young Communist League.  Keep in mind, Jones is 25 years old when she writes this, and through this organization she unloads a massive activist energy in her essay.

Jones aptly points out the contradictions of black support of what she calls "the Second Imperialist War," recognizing the true war profiteers, at the expense of working class lives.  While relaying injustice after injustice and the hypocrisies of the mistreatment, even lynchings, of black soldiers returning home from war, she exudes a resounding faith in the fight for a new social order.

Much of Jones' opprobrium for the state can be translated into our present day.  Unfortunately, I do not think her political hope could be tied to anything within our current political landscape.  While CPUSA was still a party on the margins in the 1930s and 40s, the Communist party enjoyed a substantial amount of organizing, especially among the working class.  However, Cold War McCarthyism and state sanction ideological repression of the radical left, has forced these ideas into the often inaccessible realm of academia.  Neither of the two parties in the US offer any serious solutions to racial inequality and the plight of the working class.  And as long as the absurd amounts of monetary influence are allowed in our campaigns, an alternative party (i.e Green) stands no chance at contending in the political arena.

A source of hope for social change today seems to lie in the Movement for Black Lives, but the political power and salience of this movement will not be found in the party of Clinton.  I think Jones would point to the youth of today as the energetic source of the revival of a progressive political movement.  Unfortunately, at this time, we have no organized party to give our energies to...

Fixie Bicycle Gallery

I recently came across a 2013 interview on blackenterprise.com with Mikel Madison, the Atlanta-based owner of Fixie Bicycle Gallery.  Madison was born and raised on the west coast and moved to Georgia looking for freelance design work.  He noticed how many bicyclists lived and worked in the Edgewood neighborhood of Atlanta, and, decided to open a bicycle repair shop out of his loft as a sort of “side hustle”.  Using skills learned from his father, an electrician, Madison gradually widened the scope of his small business, expanding to a brick and mortar location in 2010.  He considers himself a “bike enthusiast” who caters to Atlanta’s growing “hip” population, a market that is growing as more and more young people in urban centers are beginning to view bicycle transportation as a viable option (ahem, Memphis, ahem).  

The interview focuses largely on how Madison navigates the mostly-white world of custom made bikes as a black business owner and bicycle enthusiast.  When reading the article, I expected both individual and systemic racism to be stated obstacles in Mikel’s story, and they were: he briefly mentioned racist encounters he has faced as a customer in other Atlanta bike shops, and also touched on what I’d call “white pricing” within the bike customization industry (essentially, pricing to the customer’s means and not to actual costs).  An element of racism that I wasn’t expecting to encounter in Mikel’s story, however, was the peculiar situation of wholesale bike-equipment distributors who were uneasy about partnering with an up-and-coming black entrepreneur until he had obtained a permanent storefront.  Some of this reluctance could have been tied to market dynamics, but one has to acknowledge that being shut out by wholesale distributors for that reason alone (and come on, how many small-industry, customization start-ups begin expansion having already secured a storefront??) probably has at least partially biased/racist roots.  

Another interesting point that comes up during the course of Mikel’s interview involves the complicated realities of gentrification.  When asked why he had chosen to open a storefront space on Edgewood Avenue, Mikel points out that the building’s two story, loft-above-store-below layout meant that he would only have to pay one rent instead of two.  He also describes how he set up shop in the area “before this area underwent it’s makeover.  There weren’t any cool restaurants or hangouts here…”  Later in the same line of thought, though, he makes clear that he identifies with the longstanding tradition of the black business owner who resists gentrification: “I’ve been trying to stay on this block because I think it’s important for something like this to be in this neighborhood. I think it is important for black business to be in this neighborhood, especially with Sweet Auburn being gentrified, I want to keep my little foothold in the community.”  These two quotes illustrate Fixie Bicycle Gallery’s duality; on the one hand, in 2010, FBG was a sleek, new, hip concept in the vanguard of Edgewood’s gentrification, while in 2013, it had become a stalwart black business that pays lip service (at the very minimum) to anti-gentrification rhetoric within Atlanta’s black business community.  Surviving the thin margins that define custom-build, hipster bike shops remains difficult enough without the aforementioned biases and racism that have shaped Fixie Bicycle’s development.  Nevertheless, Mikel Madison’s Fixie Bicycle Gallery keeps on rolling.

the full interview is available here