Black History is now.

Life with the Black Panthers (1968)

blackhistorymonths — Sun, 25 Oct 2009 12:43:15 +0000

With their guns, uniforms and talent for political theatre, the Black Panthers topped the FBI’s list of ‘threats to national security’ in the 60s. In 1968, Howard Bingham spent six months trailing and photographing them

Source: Life with the Black Panthers, Howard Bingham via the Guardian

Kathleen Cleaver and Black Panther co-founder Bobby Seale (right) at a ‘Free Huey’ rally in Oakland, California, in the summer of 1968

More at source.

Countée Cullen

blackhistorymonths — Sun, 25 Oct 2009 10:15:10 +0000

Heritage

What is Africa to me:
Copper sun or scarlet sea,
Jungle star or jungle track,
Strong bronzed men, or regal black
Women from whose loins I sprang
When the birds of Eden sang?
One three centuries removed
From the scenes his fathers loved,
Spicy grove, cinnamon tree,
What is Africa to me?

So I lie, who all day long
Want no sound except the song
Sung by wild barbaric birds
Goading massive jungle herds,
Juggernauts of flesh that pass
Trampling tall defiant grass
Where young forest lovers lie,
Plighting troth beneath the sky.
So I lie, who always hear,
Though I cram against my ear
Both my thumbs, and keep them there,
Great drums throbbing through the air.
So I lie, whose fount of pride,
Dear distress, and joy allied,
Is my somber flesh and skin,
With the dark blood dammed within
Like great pulsing tides of wine
That, I fear, must burst the fine
Channels of the chafing net
Where they surge and foam and fret.

Africa?A book one thumbs
Listlessly, till slumber comes.
Unremembered are her bats
Circling through the night, her cats
Crouching in the river reeds,
Stalking gentle flesh that feeds
By the river brink; no more
Does the bugle-throated roar
Cry that monarch claws have leapt
From the scabbards where they slept.
Silver snakes that once a year
Doff the lovely coats you wear,
Seek no covert in your fear
Lest a mortal eye should see;
What’s your nakedness to me?
Here no leprous flowers rear
Fierce corollas in the air;
Here no bodies sleek and wet,
Dripping mingled rain and sweat,
Tread the savage measures of
Jungle boys and girls in love.
What is last year’s snow to me,
Last year’s anything?The tree
Budding yearly must forget
How its past arose or set
Bough and blossom, flower, fruit,
Even what shy bird with mute
Wonder at her travail there,
Meekly labored in its hair.
One three centuries removed
From the scenes his fathers loved,
Spicy grove, cinnamon tree,
What is Africa to me?

So I lie, who find no peace
Night or day, no slight release
From the unremittent beat
Made by cruel padded feet
Walking through my body’s street.
Up and down they go, and back,
Treading out a jungle track.
So I lie, who never quite
Safely sleep from rain at night–
I can never rest at all
When the rain begins to fall;
Like a soul gone mad with pain
I must match its weird refrain;
Ever must I twist and squirm,
Writhing like a baited worm,
While its primal measures drip
Through my body, crying, “Strip!
Doff this new exuberance.
Come and dance the Lover’s Dance!”
In an old remembered way
Rain works on me night and day.

Quaint, outlandish heathen gods
Black men fashion out of rods,
Clay, and brittle bits of stone,
In a likeness like their own,
My conversion came high-priced;
I belong to Jesus Christ,
Preacher of humility;
Heathen gods are naught to me.

Father, Son, and Holy Ghost,
So I make an idle boast;
Jesus of the twice-turned cheek,
Lamb of God, although I speak
With my mouth thus, in my heart
Do I play a double part.
Ever at Thy glowing altar
Must my heart grow sick and falter,
Wishing He I served were black,
Thinking then it would not lack
Precedent of pain to guide it,
Let who would or might deride it;
Surely then this flesh would know
Yours had borne a kindred woe.
Lord, I fashion dark gods, too,
Daring even to give You
Dark despairing features where,
Crowned with dark rebellious hair,
Patience wavers just so much as
Mortal grief compels, while touches
Quick and hot, of anger, rise
To smitten cheek and weary eyes.
Lord, forgive me if my need
Sometimes shapes a human creed.

All day long and all night through,
One thing only must I do:
Quench my pride and cool my blood,
Lest I perish in the flood.
Lest a hidden ember set
Timber that I thought was wet
Burning like the dryest flax,
Melting like the merest wax,
Lest the grave restore its dead.
Not yet has my heart or head
In the least way realized
They and I are civilized.

Loud Minority Productions presents Black History Walks

blackhistorymonths — Sat, 24 Oct 2009 23:34:09 +0000

the Loud Minority Productions website

Bob Marley

blackhistorymonths — Sat, 24 Oct 2009 15:51:30 +0000

“No man can lead man, we have to have unity” (Bob Marley)

”Until the philosophy which hold one race superior and another inferior is finally discredited and abandoned…WAR! So that is prophecy, and everyone know that is truth. And it came out of the mouth of Rastafari” (Bob Marley)

Faisal Abdu’Allah

blackhistorymonths — Sat, 24 Oct 2009 13:48:35 +0000

Last Supper, 2003

London-born artist Faisal Abdu’Allah graduated from the Royal College of Art and was instantly put on the “one to watch” lists within the industry. His art explores topics such as cultural identity, racial privilege, and political disenfranchisement and exclusion. Abdu’Allah’s love of fine art and personal expression has led him down an interesting path.

While studying abroad in Massachusetts, he discovered a new version of Black culture that astounded him. Drawn to the barbershops in Boston and the urban haircutting techniques, Abdu’Allah’s interests were piqued. This practice seemed to draw upon his passion for art and pretty soon he was inspired by his strong curiosities to learn the barber craft. This interest has led him into a career as a barber from which he has gained immense insight into Black culture as well as human experience. Also during his stint in America, he discovered Islam after hearing the charismatic voice of Louis Farrakhan. Upon furthering investigation, he decided to convert.

Faisal Abdu’Allah’s art is fed by his personal exploration of human experience which pulls from the world around him–wherever he may find himself. Most recently, he has been nominated for the FLAMIN Productions Development Award for his short film Manish Waters, which explores “walking as natural ubiquitous act of human expression, the point where physics, thought and identity collide to create the kaleidoscopic swagger”. Additionally, he is collaborating with French artist Christian Boltanski on a project called “14 Years in Between” due out in 2010.

He is Senior Lecturer of Fine Arts at the University of East London.

What are the rules that you live by?

Please and thank you; evil exists only as long as good people do nothing; eat as close to nature as possible; be careful what you despise, as you may have to rely on it later in life; the law of attraction; and the preservation of the irreplaceable – my sanity

Diss-assembly, 2006

Official Site of Faisal Abdu’Allah

New Statesman Q&A with Faisal Abdu’Allah

Current Exhibition: 30 Sept 2009- 1 Nov 2009, “White (Why Have I Told Everything)” at Whitechapel Gallery London

Jamaica Kincaid

blackhistorymonths — Sat, 24 Oct 2009 12:53:30 +0000

“Girl”

Wash the white clothes on Monday and put them on the stone heap; wash the color clothes on Tuesday and put them on the clothesline to dry; don’t walk barehead in the hot sun; cook pumpkin fritters in very hot sweet oil; soak your little cloths right after you take them off; when buying cotton to make yourself a nice blouse, be sure that it doesn’t have gum on it, because that way it won’t hold up well after a wash; soak salt fish overnight before you cook it; is it true that you sing benna in Sunday school?; always eat your food in such a way that it won’t turn someone else’s stomach; on Sundays try to walk like a lady and not like the slut you are so bent on becoming; don’t sing benna in Sunday school; you mustn’t speak to wharbfflies will follow you; but I don’t sing benna on Sundays at all and never in Sunday school; this is how to sew on a button; this is how to make a button-hole for the button you have just sewed on; this is how to hem a dress when you see the hem coming down and so to prevent yourself from looking like the slut I know you are so bent on becoming; this is how you iron your father’s khaki shirt so that it doesn’t have a crease; this is how you iron your father’s khaki pants so that they don’t have a crease; this is how you grow okrbafar from the house, because okra tree harbors red ants; when you are growing dasheen, make sure it gets plenty of water or else it makes your throat itch when you are eating it; this is how you sweep a corner; this is how you sweep a whole house; this is how you sweep a yard; this is how you smile to someone you don’t like too much; this is how you smile to someone you don’t like at all; this is how you smile to someone you like completely; this is how you set a table for tea; this is how you set a table for dinner; this is how you set a table for dinner with an important guest; this is how you set a table for lunch; this is how you set a table for breakfast; this is how to behave in the presence of men who don’t know you very well, and this way they won’t recognize immediately the slut I have warned you against becoming; be sure to wash every day, even if it is with your own spit; don’t squat down to play marblebsyou are not a boy, you know; don’t pick people’s flowerbsyou might catch something; don’t throw stones at blackbirds, because it might not be a blackbird at all; this is how to make a bread pudding; this is how to make doukona; this is how to make pepper pot; this is how to make a good medicine for a cold; this is how to make a good medicine to throw away a child before it even becomes a child; this is how to catch a fish; this is how to throw back a fish you don’t like, and that way something bad won’t fall on you; this is how to bully a man; this is how a man bullies you; this is how to love a man; and if this doesn’t work there are other ways, and if they don’t work don’t feel too bad about giving up; this is how to spit up in the air if you feel like it, and this is how to move quick so that it doesn’t fall on you; this is how to make ends meet; always squeeze bread to make sure it’s fresh; but what if the baker won’t let me feel the bread?; you mean to say that after all you are really going to be the kind of woman who the baker won’t let near the bread?

Jamaica Kincaid was born and received her secondary education in Antigua, which was under British rule at the time. Kincaid recalls that the education system imposed upon her made her hate everything British–”except for the literature,” and her experiences within a colonized society re-emerge in her writing. At the age of 16, she traveled to America (NY) to work as an au pair. After pursuing her education for a bit in both New York and New Hampshire, Kincaid found her literary footing writing articles and interviews for magazines. In 1976, she was offered a staff writer position at the New Yorker , two years before “Girl” was published in the magazine. She is known for her rhythmic style and unflinching honesty and vulnerability in her narrations.

Stevie Wonder & Diana Ross

blackhistorymonths — Sat, 24 Oct 2009 11:56:19 +0000

Will “Da Real One” Bell: “So I Run” (via Def Jam Poetry)

blackhistorymonths — Thu, 22 Oct 2009 22:14:49 +0000

We all have guilty pleasures–the things we do when no one is looking. The things that seem indecently self-indulgent. Those things we do instead of meet deadlines, pay bills, balance checkbooks, take out the trash and do the dishes. Well, one of my favorite things to do (without this turning into an Oprah segment) is to watch Def Jam Poetry on Youtube while doing my make up and doing my hair. I may be self-indulgent but at least I multitask. Anyway, this is one of my favorites and it seems wholly appropriate for the blog because it references many points in Black history that we may have learnt from but it would have been nice to learn without so much loss. I will outline the events that Will “Da Real One” Bell highlights below the clip.

Harriet Tubman played a pivotal role in the “underground railroad” freeing potentially hundreds of slaves over numerous trips (later she aided in freeing hundreds of slaves during the Combahee River Raid). Harriet Tubman (unlike the others in the poem) died of illness at the (estimated) age of 91 in a hospital bed surrounded by loved ones.

Medgar Evers was honored earlier this month when a Naval supply ship was named after him. He was a civil rights activist from Mississippi who worked hard campaigning for integration and supporting the NAACP. He was shot in front of his home.

16th Street Baptist Church Bombing (Denise McNair, Cynthia Wesley, Carole Robertson, Addie Mae Collins) A bombing of an African American church in Birmingham, AL perpetrated by the KKK claimed the lives of 4 young girls. Four grown men planted 122 sticks of dynamite around the church and when the children were filing in for closing prayers (a sermon entitled “The Love That Forgives”) the explosives were detonated. The church has since been rebuilt and stands as a historic landmark which can be toured.

After the bombing this window remained.

Malcolm X After being incarcerated at the age of 20, Malcolm X turned to the Nation of Islam in order to examine the world around him. Remembering his father’s passion for Garvyism, Malcolm projected that same passion towards NOI, becoming a minister within the organization. His outspoken nature made him ideal for the activist role and through spirituality and a strong Black pride, he was able to preach to his community and to garner support for his views (sometimes (incorrectly) deemed “racist” or “radical” by opposition). In 1965, Malcolm X was gunned down at an assembly. Thousands of people came to Harlem to mourn the tremendous loss of this heroic figure.

Dr. Martin Luther King Jr Perhaps the most prominent figure of the Civil Rights Movement, King was a pastor and activist dedicated to racial unity. Investing in a non-violent approach to his activism, he worked towards de-segregation and towards an end to discrimination. His “I Have A Dream” speech is one of the most recognizable orations of all time. Tragically his lost his life in 1968 in Memphis, TN on a balcony of the Lorraine Hotel (which has since been converted into the Civil Rights Museum).

Tupac Shakur Rapper, actor, performer and poet, Shakur became the face of hip hop during the 1990′s and remains one of the top selling musical artists of our time. His success and honesty made him a hero to some and a legend to many. At the age of 25, Tupac lost his life when he was short 4 times in Nevada.

Notorious BIG A contemporary of Shakur’s, Christopher Wallace (aka Biggie Smalls) was said to represent the “East Coast” to Shakur’s “West”. Growing up in Brooklyn, he was pivotal in the New York hip hop scene. Growing up during the 1980′s Wallace used his street smarts to hustle drugs in order to make money to support himself. The grittiness of this lifestyle is manifested in his rhymes reflecting the attitude that he cultivated during his youth. In 1997, Wallace was shot in Los Angeles, CA.

The Hazel Scott Trio

blackhistorymonths — Thu, 22 Oct 2009 12:38:06 +0000

Hazel Scott was the first African-American women to have her own (short-lived) television show entitled The Hazel Scott Show in 1950, which was canceled later that year as she was accused of being a “Communist sympathizer” for her opposition to McCarthyism and segregation. Scott, a beloved pianist, procured a spot at the renown Juilliard School of Music after being granted 6 scholarships following a performance at the age of 14 (she started playing piano at the age of 2). By the time she was able to attend the prestigious academy (age 16) she had already become a radio star.

Charles Mingus has been considered one of the most important figures in jazz performance and composition–and American music in general. Nicknamed “the Angry Man of Jazz,” Mingus not only was talented but also daring. A virtuoso bass player, he studied under the principal bassist of the New York Philharmonic and performed alongside Charlie Parker and Miles Davis during his career.

history and personal responsibility.

blackhistorymonths — Wed, 21 Oct 2009 22:04:46 +0000

While revisiting When The Levees Broke I struggled with a question–where does African-American history end and American history begin? Is there a difference and if so, where do the two intersect?

The answer should be that you can’t separate the two–African-American history is American history and American history tells the story of the American people regardless of their race. In turn, American history belongs to all the people of the world as part of our collective history. A scar inculcated on any land belongs to us all and it is our duty as a global community to heal that scar. The devastation of Hurricane Katrina effected all Americans but those residents of Louisiana were hit the hardest. The efforts to restore the land and the lives have been slow-moving and in turn disappointing.

Louisiana has the second largest African-American population (first is Mississippi which also suffered from Katrina) and sits as an epicenter of cultural history. Due to it’s large cargo port, Louisiana symbolizes not only a fluid exchange of culture as a point of entry for those immigrating into or exchanging goods with America but a site of passage to many enslaved people in the 19th century. As a result, Louisiana is a mecca for American culture and history and as Katrina pounded down on Louisiana this had nightmarish effects on the national community.

It would be ignorant to ignore the racialized (and classed) aspect of the trauma–the language that permeated the discussions surrounding the victims and their loss, the unimpressive response to human suffering and environmental upheaval shown by the government and the inability to look upon those who lost their homes as victims and not as burdens of the state. It was as if the decades of preaching accountability and “one nation united under god indivisible” were abandoned. It became all too clear that government “protection” was a fallacy and the paternalistic image of America had been torn away to expose a fatherless nation, vulnerable and suffering.

Another question I have encountered while studying hinges upon ownership of history–who can tell history and who can claim ownership of that history? In order to write about Louisiana, must I preface it with my own ties to the land?And more pointedly, how do I handle speaking about communities I am not a part of? If my ties aren’t immediate, should I proceed with caution? I see it as my responsibility to give what I have to give, which is my own educational experiences and resources that allow me to spend my time blogging about the things I have been exposed to. I think we should all question ourself as we dig into history–this is a sure sign that you are interacting with your subject.

Anyway, I am trying to get back on track with the keeping of this blog. I stumbled a bit in the last week but I look forward to picking up where I left off since I believe that the point of this is worth it.