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Abstract: I am not supposed to exist. I carry death around in my body like a condemnation. But I do live. The bee flies. There must be some way to integrate death into living, neither ignoring it nor giving in to it.And there are stars, but none of you, to spare.As a boy, my favorite part of Sunday morning service was watching congregants take flight. Watching them laugh. Watching them dance, and fall, and sprint, as if weightless, or jet-propelled, down each aisle. My father was a deacon back then, my mother the head of Vacation Bible School, my older sister, a resident celebrity in the alto section. And though my musical talents were dubious at best, I too had a Messiah Baptist Church claim to fame: the recitation of ... Read More PubDate: 2021-12-30T00:00:00-05:00
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Abstract: When attempting to find a way to navigate sociality, to navigate a Heideggerian being-in-the-world that might be more accurately reconfigured as a becoming-in (excess of)-the-world, there must be something that engenders the very insistence on navigation. What is that force, that miasma, that illustriously allusive dark matter constituting an anoriginal tenacity cultivating the failure of things trying to kill us' What preoccupies the present essay is the residue, as it were, that serves as a kind of effluvial muck that gives one over to that navigatory insistence. I venture to say that this muck—with its sticky, pliable, soil-like connotations given to imagery of not only grime but ecological ... Read More PubDate: 2021-12-30T00:00:00-05:00
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Abstract: « Heureux ceux qui écrivent sous la domination de l'âge dernier : leurs poèmes peuvent faire balles, et conforter l'espoir du nombre de leurs impacts. »«When I wrote Bonjour et adieu à la négritude, one could perhaps read that as "Hello and Goodbye to Politics." If the notion of revolution itself has failed, it would be illusory for me to continue to sleep with a phantom: the great zombie of modernity, it is revolution, alas. The great zombie. »Patrick Chamoiseau might have articulated the most fundamental dilemma of French Caribbean writing when he claimed early in Ecrire en pays dominé that it was far better for a writer to write under colonialism—the political domination of "l'âge dernier"—than within the ... Read More PubDate: 2021-12-30T00:00:00-05:00
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Abstract: Work might be better conceptualized by examining the range of work that African-American women actually perform. Work as alienated labor can be economically exploitative, physically demanding, and intellectually deadening—the type of work long associated with Black women's status as "mule." Alienated labor can be paid—the case of Black women in domestic service, those Black women working as dishwashers, dry-cleaning assistants, cooks, and health-care assistants, as well as some professional Black women engaged in corporate mammy work; or it can be unpaid, as with the seemingly never-ending chores of many Black grandmothers and Black single mothers. But work can also be empowering and creative, even if it physically ... Read More PubDate: 2021-12-30T00:00:00-05:00
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Abstract: "Yet, the belly of this boat dissolves you, precipitates you into a non-world from which you cry out […] Experience of the abyss lies inside and outside the abyss. The torment of those who never escaped it: straight from the belly of the slave ship into the violent belly of the ocean depths they went. But their ordeal did not die; it quickened into this continuous/discontinuous thing"The archive and the underworld both appear to be the destination for the documents and souls they contain, yet the proliferating meanings of a word like "terminal" reveal that an end can easily become a beginning, or a destination an origin. In their documentary poems The Book of the Dead and Zong!, Muriel Rukeyser and M. NourbeSe ... Read More PubDate: 2021-12-30T00:00:00-05:00
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Abstract: Emmett Till is dead. I don't know why he can't just stay dead.What will one have to say, in response to Dana Schutz's open casket' To ask this, out loud, would sound, without further inquiry or explanation, like a reference to a funeral service, a wake or a viewing. To say this loudly, while out and about, before the uninitiated or uninformed, would sound like a question about elegy. Elegeía, in the ancient sense of the term—to cry, lament, mourn—for one they may not know. They may not know that this one is white or woman or mother or artist or highly educated or professionally successful. They may not know any country of origin or religious faith or languages spoken. They would have no real sense of any ethical ... Read More PubDate: 2021-12-30T00:00:00-05:00
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Abstract: "To make Black Life Matter, we must listen to the choir of specters and its post-modern sonata encouraging us to reckon with the memorialized, inherited, and generational mourning of blackness…"Trayvon Martin. Michael Brown. Eric Garner. Oscar Grant. The names are stitched together in an unending elegy, swollen into being through the untimely and unjust extinction of yet another black life. Funeral bleeds into protest bleeds into funeral bleeds into protest… and in my preoccupation with the news as it continues to break, I can't help but think that it's not us raising the dead, but the dead raising us, into activism, action, and an insistence that black lives matter.Kashif Jerome Powell, in his examination of Black ... Read More PubDate: 2021-12-30T00:00:00-05:00
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Abstract: "Say make me, remake me. You are free to do it and I am free to let you because look, look. Look where your hands are. Now."Silent protest parade in New York City against the East St. Louis riots, 19171On July 28, 1917, thousands of people crowded New York's Fifth Avenue for the NAACP's Silent Protest Parade, demonstrating against lynching and the East St. Louis race riots. Official mottos and signs—as pictured above—included phrases like: "We are maligned as lazy, and murdered when we work," "Your hands are full of blood," and "Our music is the only American music."2 Supporters gathered along the sidewalks, watching the marchers move.Alice Manfred finds herself among these spectators during a scene in the middle ... Read More PubDate: 2021-12-30T00:00:00-05:00
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Abstract: "I could not put it on without a bleak, pale, cold wonder about the future. I could not, in short, live with it: it was too heavy a garment. Yet—it was only a suit, worn, at most, three times. It was not a very expensive suit, but it was still more expensive than any my friend could buy. He could not afford to have suits in his closet which he didn't wear, he couldn't afford to throw suits away—he couldn't, in short, afford my elegant despair."No Name in the Street opens with the tactile memory of black velvet. Recalling vividly, a singular moment in which his mother Berdis handled this scrap of cloth, Baldwin bestows upon the fabric a kind of power, intelligence, and magic:"That is a good idea," I heard my mother ... Read More PubDate: 2021-12-30T00:00:00-05:00
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Abstract: "In the beginning was not only the word but the contradiction of the word.""The African-American male has been touched, therefore, by the mother, handed by her in ways that he cannot escape, and in ways that the white American male is allowed to temporize by a fatherly reprieve. … The black American male embodies the only American community of males handed the specific occasion to learn who the female is within itself. … It is the heritage of the mother that the African-American male must regain as an aspect of his own personhood–the power of 'yes' to the female within."(Warning: This piece recounts graphic descriptions of sexual assault detailed in the works of Jones/Baraka.)After enduring the murder of Malcolm X ... Read More PubDate: 2021-12-30T00:00:00-05:00
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