FreeQuency: "The Gospel of Colonization"

When Mwende "FreeQuency" Katwiwa started speaking this piece, I thought, "Oh, good! This is going to be about immigration. We need that so much right now."

And then she dropped the words "Jesus Christ" into a sentence and I thought, "Oh, dear. I didn't know she was into that."

See, the thing is, FreeQuency is located in New Orleans (about 45 miles from where I live) so we've been in contact about her coming to my campus in the spring. But while there's nothing wrong with being a Christian, of course, in Louisiana, it's often connected to a particularly conservative -- and even oppressive -- worldview. So I was startled and momentarily disappointed, but she quickly moved on.

Only a matter of seconds later, she was channeling Chinua Achebe's Things Fall Apart and I was, again, a FreeQuency fangirl.

FreeQuency is the current Women of the World Poetry Slam Champion. If you haven't been exposed to her before, you're about to find out why.

Diriye Osman: Why We Must Tell Our Own Stories

Somalia has appeared in the U.S. news often in the last year or so. When I read this essay by Diriye Osman, I knew immediately that my readers needed to see it, as well, to develop a better, more complicated, and more beautiful perspective on this culture and its diverse population and what at least one Somali writer has to share with us about the human condition there, here, and everywhere.

"Why We Must Tell Our Own Stories"
by Diriye Osman

Emmanuel Jal: Cush

A couple of years ago, I learned of a man named Emmanuel Jal. He had just published a bestselling book about his experiences as a Sudanese child soldier who had wound up going to school and, ultimately, became an ambassador for peace through his rap music. I mentioned him in a post at the time because I had read his book (which I highly recommend), Sudan was in the news at the time, and I have a long-standing attachment to that country.

A few days ago, I received an email tipping me to Jal's newest album, entitled See Me Mama. One of the cuts from the album is featured above, reminding us that the human race in general and, most particularly, our darker brothers and sisters, share a rich history dating back to the kingdom of Cush.

Siji: Yearning for Home

I haven't blogged for a minute and my plate, as usual, is busy dropping figurative food all over the floor of my agenda. I'm preparing for a presentation for the art department on "Creating Resonance at Will" (the sociology of art) for which I will be flying almost entirely by the seat of my pants. I'm working to set up a presentation on dance as social commentary (working topic: death and dying as a manifestation of oppression). I'm making notes to produce a booklet on how Black students can make it successfully through the first two semesters on a majority White campus without sacrificing what's left of their souls. I'm still teaching 350 students per week. And I have yet another, a superbly talented and highly educated Nigerian raised in Britain and  set of midterms to grade (besides all the rest of the "less important" papers).

I have a small stack of topics I'm itching to get on here about. But it won't be today, unless I forego clearning the bathroom, in which case, I'll have to start using the ditch out back since it's becoming a bummer to have to face what a slovenly housekeeper I am.

While you're waiting, though, I have a treat. Someone kindly sent an email tipping me to an artist about which I was unaware: Siji immersed in Brooklyn. I couldn't bring myself to choose between the two videos I'm posting here. What a wonderful dilemma. Enjoy!



SIJI - "Yearning For Home" Music Video from SIJI on Vimeo.





SIJI - 'Ijo'(Official Video) from SIJI on Vimeo.

Black History Month in America

It's "Black History Month" in the United States again. So we'll be inundated with various performances and presentations of Martin Luther King, Jr.'s "I Have a Dream Speech." We'll be reminded that African-Americans used to be slaves and that now (praise God!) they're not. Not only are they not slaves any more (we'll be reminded), but they can vote, use any bathroom they want to, ride in the front of the bus, and walk right up to any water fountain and drink if they please. They can go to private schools right along side the White kids who live in other neighborhoods. They can try on clothes at "better" stores. And they can sue for damages, if they're locked up for thirty years when they were, in fact, innocent. Why, they can even be President of the United States.

What we won't be encouraged to think about is that the life of the average ordinary Black person in this country is still routinely structured and strictured by White Supremacy. I've written about it so often on this blog, I feel as if I repeat myself endlessly. Yet White people often don't get it. And even many African-Americans I meet have been socialized to be in denial about it, as well.

Charlotte O'Neal: The Red Cockatoo Feathers

I was cruising the blogosphere the last couple of days on a journey of discovery. If you slide down my blogroll, you'll find a number of interesting new options to look into, as well as a couple of new items on my "Some Basics" list.

I am always reassured when I take the time to look around that life is yet thriving gloriously. And as a way to celebrate the beauty that is all around us in spite of the Dark Forces that seem to lay wait around every corner, I'm posting the YouTube video below of Charlotte O'Neal, a Black Panther activist who, with her husband, Pete, moved to Tanzania in 1972, where they have become deeply enmeshed in the life of the community. People from the United States visit them regularly to learn and grow in their understanding of what is possible and what is important. In addition, Charlotte, called by many "Mama C", writes, sings, and performs on occasional tours in the U.S.

This video shows Mama C reading her piece, "The Red Cockatoo Feathers" at the 14th Annual International Poetry Africa Festival in Durban, South Africa, last October. I found it on the website of The Liberator Magazine. Enjoy.

They're Voting Today In Sudan

While I was working toward my Master's Degree at Western Illinois University, I was engaged for a while to a man from Southern Sudan. With two youngsters to raise, a graduate assistantship to fulfill and the rigors of full-time graduate course requirements, I had precious little time to call my own. But what I had, I gave to hanging out with people from other countries, especially from Africa, as about a quarter of the students on that campus were from somewhere other than the U.S. and, as far as I was concerned, this was an opportunity I couldn't pass up. It was very exciting and eventually even gave birth to my thesis, which was on Social Distance Between Africans and Black Americans and the Attitudes of White Americans Toward Both Groups.

I met Martin through a couple from Botswana. He was massively intelligent and exquisitely articulate. And his voice was like velvet, barely above a whisper. Our conversations were beyond seductive to me, so hungry for news of the real world outside our borders, so ravenous for analysis of power relations more in depth than what I was wont to get on average. I often stopped by his apartment for tea on my way home from class in the afternoon. Sometimes he would cook a chicken. We ate with our fingers and, for special occasions, peanut soup with fufu. He told me tales of his homeland, of acres and acres of mahogany; of hundreds of oil wells already dug and capped, waiting for later; and of chunks of gold lying on top of the ground in a region where people didn't value metals as much as family. But most often, he spoke of missing home.

On This Day In History

On this day in 1964, Nelson Mandela stood before the Supreme Court in Pretoria, South Africa, against the urgings of his lawyer, and made the following statement before being sent to prison for twenty-seven years:

“During my lifetime I have dedicated my life to this struggle of the African people. I have fought against white domination and I have fought against black domination. I have cherished the ideal of a democratic and free society in which all persons will live together in harmony and with equal opportunities. It is an ideal for which I hope to live and to see realised. But, my lord, if it needs be, it is an ideal for which I am prepared to die.”

Long Live Steve Biko's Words!

On this day in 1977, Stephen Biko, a thirty-year-old student activist leader against the apartheid system in South Africa was beaten to death by the police who were holding him in custody for his commitment to justice for all. 15,000 people attended his funeral and thousands more were turned away, but we remember him today particularly for his ideas related to the ways oppressed people internalize their oppression. His founding of the Black Consciousness movement, calling for the psychological and cultural liberation of his people so that they could then set themselves free politically, may, in fact, be the touchstone all revolutions must visit in order to be effective.

It's no wonder the Afrikaner power structure put a ban on his public speaking. Nevertheless, we can still read his last public statement, made very publicly in spite of the ban and then subsequently captured in the book Black Consciousness in South Africa, edited by Millard Arnold.

It is telling -- and chilling -- that Biko was arrested under the Terrorism Act in his nation, which gave rather broad scoped powers to those that feared him so. It is equally telling -- and chilling -- that the officers who brutally beat and starved Biko for the last twenty-four days of his life were absolved of any wrong-doing in the matter of his death, despite the medical report that he died due to a brain lesion caused by the “application of force to the head”. Increasingly, under current policy and practice, we see routine news reports of people being brutalized and even murdered by law enforcement officers in full view of witnesses without their being held legally responsible.

Time has moved on. There is a different government in South Africa, although it sometimes seems that not much has changed after all. I can't help but think that Biko would not be surprised. Worse, though, is the fact that run-amuck Terrorism Acts have now popped up as de rigeur in most nations and most certainly in ours.

I would suggest that we all need to consider what Biko was trying to tell us about internalized oppression. Before more of us have been caused to join him as heroes. Dead heroes.

Speaking of Africa...

Yesterday, surfing the web for the first time since I moved last week, I decided to stalk my favorite website builder's work and came across a call for applications for the Focus Features Africa First Short Film Program. The application period opened May 12th and closes July 15th, so if you don't have an idea you've already fleshed out pretty seriously, it's probably too late. And the competition is only for African filmmakers. But you never know.

The Focus Features Africa First Short Film Program will award up to five (5) emerging African filmmakers $10,000 (U.S. dollars) each towards the pre-production, production, or post-production of their short film. Winners will also participate in a three-day workshop in New York City. So, if you or someone you know would be interested in this opportunity, I hope you'll pass along this information right away.

We Need A Freedom Charter

On this day in history in 1955, the South African Freedom Charter was adopted at the Congress of the People at Kliptown near Johannesburg. Three thousand delegates -- men, women, and children -- representing the African National Congress, the Indian Congress, the Coloured Peoples Organization, and the Congress of Democrats met that day for the reading of the Charter, which was then signed. (For more, visit this site.)

The Freedom Charter said, among other things, that the people shall govern; that all national groups shall have equal rights before the law and shall enjoy equal human rights; that the people shall share in the country's wealth and that the land shall be shared among those who work it. It began:

“ We, the People of South Africa, declare for all our country and the world to know that South Africa belongs to all who live in it, black and white, and that no government can justly claim authority unless it is based on the will of all the people . . . .”

Perhaps we need a Freedom Charter in the United States. If one was drafted, would it be dangerous to sign it? Would you sign?

Fire in the Delta

Fire in the Delta
Uploaded by Ndelta

Sokari at Black Looks tells us:

"In 2005, the High Court declared gas flaring illegal yet both the Nigerian government and oil multinationals have ignored the court ruling. Last year the Nigerian government once again promised to stop all gas flaring on the 1st January this year - a promise that goes back nearly 40 years. Companies defying the order were to be shut down. Once again the government has shown complete disregard and insensitivity to the communities in the Niger Delta and given into pressure from Shell, Chevron, Elf etc. The date has now been set for the end of the year but no one really believes that the government will once again bow to the oil multinationals.

"Inemo [Ndelta] has put together this short video [see above] which shows the environmental damage (gas flares both on the ground and those that burn up in the sky; old leaking pipes across farmlands and homes; oil filled creeks and ponds; oil fires which burn the land and people; across the region)."

So, in solidarity with the people of the Niger Delta, I just cut my Chevron gas card in half (even though that's the only local station I have a card for) and I'm mailing it back to the company with my explanation as to why. Our brothers and sisters are specifically asking us -- the heaviest users of gasoline in the world -- to bring pressure on the companies that are causing them to suffer: Shell, Exxon, Mobil and Chevron. Are you in?

Be Bold/Be Red Today!

Today is the day women of color document the silence. Today is the day they get to talk about the violence that is so much a part of their lives. Violence without apology. Violence without repercussions for the perpetrators. Violence without recourse for the victims.

And to make sure people listen, they will be wearing red. To make people sit up and pay attention, they will be flaunting their redness. To make people notice. And so will I. "Listen to my sisters," I will demand. Listen to my sisters who have been silent for too long. I will stand beside them while they document their silence. I will make my own broken body a wall for my sisters so that no one can rise against them wherever we are together.

We will cry with one voice, my sisters and I. We will sing together and croon our nightmares to sleep. We will grant no space to ignorance, no space to fear. We will link arms and stride into a new day. Like long-legged horses, we will run over hills that hold up a sky full of crimson clouds full of tears of joy that women of color will be silent no more.

At 8:00 p.m. (CST), women of color and their allies all over the United States will read the following litany aloud. Feel free to don red and join us and report to the organizers of this national action that you have done so here. And then, whatever else you decide to do, you might choose to watch the film above about Samburu women in Kenya who created a village named Umoja (Unity) after they were cast out of their families because they had been raped. Maybe you would like to share it with others who would appreciate knowing that this is really not just a national movement, but is the dawning of a new sun. Around the world. And it is red.

Out of the Silence, We Come: A Litany

Out of the silence, we come
In the name of nuestras abuelas,
In honor of our mamas
In the spirit of our petit fils,
In tribute to ourselves
We come crying out
Documenting the torture
We come wailing
Reporting the rape
We come singing
Testifying to the abuse
We come knowing
Knowing that the silence has not protected us from
the racism
the sexism
the homophobia
the physical pain
the emotional shame
the auction block

Once immobilized by silence
We come now, mobilized by collective voice
Dancing in harmonious move-ment to the thick drumbeat of la lucha, the struggle
We come indicting those who claim to love us, but violate us
We come prosecuting those who are paid to protect us, but harass us
We come sentencing those who say they represent us, but render
us invisible

Out of the Silence, we come
Naming ourselves
Telling our stories
Fighting for our lives
Refusing to accept that we were never meant to survive

Amandla!

"Africa I guard your memory Africa.

You are in me as the shaft is in the wound."

~~Roman

On this day in 1976, more than 150 school children were shot to death and many more wounded in Soweto, South Africa, when they had the audacity to protest against having to learn Afrikaans (the language of their oppressors) while being summarily brutalized on a daily basis and forced to live in abject poverty with the apparent blessing of the West.

We will honor the example of those valiant youth by visiting Black Looks again today to read Rethabile's post on the Soweto Massacre as well as Sokari's challenge to us concerning the bizarre state of our support for our African brothers and sisters still suffering because of our shared history and their on-going economic exploitation. If Bono is "the African spokesman," does that mean that the children who were murdered in the Soweto Massacre died to set him free?