Senzeni Marasela

In Barbara Thompson’s chapter “Decolonizing Black Bodies: Personal Journeys in the Contemporary Voice” my attention was drawn to the work of South African artist Senzeni Marasela.  Marasela uses a variety of media to explore her painful relationship with her mentally ill mother who was absent most of Marasela’s childhood.  She also explores collective memory and colonial perceptions of the black female body in her series of embroidered scenes from the life of Sarah Baartman, a former South African slave who toured Europe as “The Hottentot Venus.”  Sarah Baartman’s body was exoticised and fetishised as embodying the form of a black Venus.  Her body became a site of Western attraction and repulsion and became a representation of racist western imaginations of the back female body.  After she died, her body was dismembered by Napoleon’s physician and her gentiles and brain were put on display at the Musée de l’Homme until Nelson Mandela requested that her remains be returned to South Africa and respectfully buried in 2002.  Thompson discusses the dismantling of the black Venus image and stereotype but doesn’t mention Marasela’s Baartman series (she talks about Marasela’s work in relation to motherhood) which is why I thought I’d highlight it here.  This series both in subject and in medium connects the stereotype of the black Venus and the story of Sarah Baartman with the artist’s relationship with her mother.  The images evoke the ideas of collective consciousness and collective memory by making these connections.  She uses a technique traditionally labeled as “women’s work” and associated with female relationships and tradition.  I think that because of needlework’s history and cultural associations it has the ability to transmit elements of the female experience in a much more intimate and personal way than other mediums are able to.  Additionally, the associations of needlework being a skill passed down through generations of women makes visible the artist’s connection to her mother and to the subject of the series Sarah Baartman as well as to all women who came before her.  In this series Marasela relates the dismembering and scrutiny of Baartman’s body to her own experience as a black woman in a Western urban environment.

 

 

 

The Gaze

Summaries:

Pariah: In Pariah, Alike confronts her sexuality as she struggles with the identity of her black womanhood in the context of her family.

Black Womanhood, Barbara Thompson: Diverse artists from the diaspora disrupt and reply to the Western standard of Black females via stereotypical appropriation.

Contemporary Art, Taylor: The artists featured in Documenta 11 addresses the context of identity on an international level.

In Black Womanhood, Thompson provides examples of various artists who not only disrupt and reply to the Western European standard but also the gaze of the art world, another sphere of influence for the Western white male. This gaze acts as a form of judgment or standard from the art world which asserts the perspective of the western white male. The “other” identities depicted in traditional work are considered in relation to this “ideal” identity, demeaning the value of the “other”. The works of artists who disrupt and reply to the gaze is important because they also provide a space and canvas for reaffirmation of the other identity. In Black Womanhood, Thompson presents diverse artists from the African diaspora who redefine and reaffirm the identity of the black female as well as counter the gaze of the art world. Such artists are necessary as the traditional Western white male perspective has dominated the art world and defined the black female identity as overtly sexual, subordinate, and savage-like. I think Thompson describes the new perspective best when she states that through the work of such artists, viewers can “imagine themselves in her skin taking up negative space of her absent body with all of its cultural baggage and expectations.” This contradiction of existence and identity cannot be understood through the gaze of the art world or the western European standard, asserting the necessity for the perspective of diverse artist from the diaspora.

Berni Searle and the Reclamation of the Black Female Body

Pariah: Chronicles the coming-of-age of a 17 year African American girl as she experiences societal, communal, and familial pressure for her to conform to pre-established norms of Black womanhood.

Barbara Thompson: This article discusses the works of contemporary artists in their efforts to challenge our historical canon which has projected an image/perceived reality of Black women as savage, inferior, and immoral beings.

Barbara Thompson’s mention of Berni Searle’s (South African artist) campaign to “reconstruct a micro-history of the personal” resonates with my own desire to abandon and re-script the visual narrative and identity that has been “made for me,”as a Black woman. Her recognition of the black female body as a site of oppressive politics in the historical narrative is noteworthy; but it is her subsequent decision to re-appropriate her body in an effort challenge racialized stereotypes- despite the debilitating weight it carries- that I view as a brilliant act of courage. In our own class discussions, we have pondered this very question of how an individual who has been defined as a material object for centuries can then transform their identity into that of an intelligent human being. Searle uses her nude body, which is anything but a neutral palette, to interrogate our traditional understandings of non-White beings. With the ever-present risk of outsiders “recognizing” her pieces as ‘more of the same’ images of un-clothed black bodies, Searle embraces the opportunity to promote images of black females practicing self-love, acceptance and ownership of their politicized bodies.

Thompson digresses into instances in which the nude black female body has been used explicitly as a “tactic of resistance.” Though I support Searle’s campaign to re-appropriate  the identities already given to black women, I don’t know that I endorse the metaphor of “self-exploitation” that is mentioned later in the article. I look forward to discussing the implications behind and the utility of a concept  like “self-exploitation” in our efforts to abandon stereotypical narratives that continue to oppress women of color worldwide.

 

 

 

 

De-colonizing the Queer Self

“You should wear your hair down.”

“Your father likes it up.”

Pariah, a film lauded for its representation of the black lesbian community, follows protagonist Alike as she struggles to find an authentic queer identity in a conservative, black, middle-class family. Alike is alienated by her ultra-normative parents and feminine younger sister, yet even the family itself chafes at its own normativity – the desperate attempts of the mother to seduce her own husband, his only constant the beers he swills as he becomes forever more and more absent. They all recognize their individual and collective failures at (hetero)normativity. Frantically, they attempt to retain that normativity, that perfectly organized (colonized?) family unit – the mother buys Alike pink blouses, the father asserts his patriarchal authority and supposed “untouchability”. “Why you asking so many goddamn questions, girl?” He demands of Alike. “What’s wrong with you? You don’t question me.”

 “Tell him! Tell him that you’re a nasty-ass dyke!”

To escape the crushing (hetero)normativity of her home life, Alike depends on Laura, her older, butcher, working-class friend. Laura attempts to help Alike navigate queer life, taking her to the lesbian club nearby, lending her clothing and even buying her a strap-on dildo at one point. The club represents a queer “safe space” for queer black women, an opportunity to defy heteropatriarchal impositions. Yet even within this safe queer haven, they are unable to escape the colonizing forces of normativity. The lesbian club Laura and Alike frequent is strictly butch-femme, allowing only for the coupling of an AG (aggressive) like Laura and the submissive femmes she picks up. Alike feels this pressure to adhere to this binary within the queer community, overhearing one feminine-presenting straight girl at school say that she might be attracted to her if “… maybe if she was a little bit harder…” Despite Alike’s valiant attempts at an AG presentation, it seems that she is still not quite masculine enough to be acceptable in this dichotomous world. She hates the strap-on Laura buys her, claiming it chafes, and throws it away. She feels uncomfortable at the club, seemingly uninterested in or unwilling to play the butch-femme game to pick up women. Even Laura, the model AG, appears to recognize the limits of this so-called “freedom”. When talking Alike about her (Alike’s) new love interest, she says in a melancholy tone, “I really am happy for you… Because I love you.” After uttering those words, Laura turns away, taking the acceptably femme partner she had picked up at the club with her, leaving Alike open-mouthed with her femme counterpart. Did Laura desire Alike all along, unwilling to take action because of the forbidden nature of a butch-butch coupling? Regardless of the nature of her desire, one cannot argue that Laura is not one of the most (if not the most, in my mind!) faithful, most loving characters in Alike’s life. She cares for Alike when she leaves home after her mother beats her when she is forced to come out despite the fact that she and her sister are struggling to make ends meet, stroking her arm softly to comfort her in one touching scene. Laura undoubtedly loves Alike – could it be that in another context she would express that love differently?

“I am not broken, I am free.”

After a violent and emotional confrontation with her parents, Alike leaves home, claiming that she is “not running, I’m choosing”. She knows that she can no longer bear the yoke of “acceptable” black womanhood, and that she must, as Thompson suggests, de-colonize her own queer self in order to find true freedom – outside of her oppressive household, outside of the false freedoms of the club. It must be brought to attention that Alike’s wardrobe changes towards the end of the film – something that is not at all insignificant. She is perhaps still more masculine-of-center, but no longer attempts the hyper-masculinity of Laura or other AGs. She wears hoodies and jeans, but she occasionally wears pink, she keeps her earrings in – she is no longer forced to choose between the hyper-femininity of her mother or the extreme AG masculinity of Laura. Alike introduces herself to the outskirts, a truly queer world, where she does not have to fit norms of any origin. Through extreme pain, she is able to graduate early with her perseverance, talent, and intelligence and go into an early college writing program. She forgives her mother, telling her that she loves her, though her mother is not able to repeat those words back to her. Ultimately, on the bus ride to college, despite the incredible loss she has experienced, Alike appears happy. She knows that she is not broken, she is free.

Pariah: An Alternative Representation of Black Femininity

For this response I will focus on the film Pariah.  Pariah follows the tribulations that Alike, a young African American teenager who identifies as a lesbian, experiences as she becomes more comfortable with her sexuality in a predominately heteronormative society.  Pariah, defined as a rejected member of society or a person without status serves as the perfect word to depict the isolation that she experiences upon coming out to family and friends.  More importantly, the film’s depiction of Alike’s experience and its diverse representations of black femininity contests traditional views of black female sexuality.  This is done through Pariah’s relationships with other black women like her mother and sister who identify as heterosexual, and Abina and Laura who identify as homosexual.

With images of male dominance and female subordination pervading the African American community throughout the film, there is a sense of exclusion associated with identifying as queer.  The film also brings issues of the black female body to the forefront through Alike and her best friend Laura’s butch demeanors – something that was discussed in our reading from Black Womanhood.  Alike’s mother views this outward portrayal of masculinity as a disruption to social norms, and tries to impose heteronormative ideas of what a woman should look like upon her daughter.  Her refusal to acknowledge Alike’s lifestyle choices ultimately results in violence and leaves Alike in a state of homelessness after being rejected as a member of her own household.

Thompson:  Thompson contests distorted representations of the black female body through exploring and debunking the European stereotypes responsible for the misrepresentation of the black female body in art.

The Rejection of Nude Seduction and the Exploration of Sexuality in Malian Photography

Pariah: This film explores the rocky relationships that Alike has with her family, best friend, and love interest as she struggles with coming out to her family and embracing her sexual identity as a lesbian.

Taylor: Documenta 11, an exhibition that included work from artists all over the globe, creates global awareness while questioning the meaning of globalization in an economic and political context.

Thompson: Artists from Africa and the Diaspora challenge Western representations of Black women as “beasts, nymphs, slaves, servants, and sexual commodities” by negotiating, reconstructing, and decolonizing these stereotypes.

In Decolonizing Black Bodies: Personal Journeys in the Contemporary Voice by Barbara Thompson, I was particularly intrigued by Malick Sidibe’s attempt to negotiate Black women’s sexuality and reject Western notions of nude seduction through photography. In Mali, where female nudity is not accepted, pagnes (wrappers) are worn by women to accentuate their figure and evoke male curiosity. While reading this section, I thought about Olympia, a painting by Edouard Manet that illustrates a Black female servant who is robbed of her sexuality by her worn drapery of fabric. Unlike the woman in Olympia, women in Sidibe’s photos are desirable and able to express their sexuality while being fully clothed. I view Sidibe’s photos as a compromise between being too modest and too sexual, while providing Black women agency and giving them the space to portray their desirability without feeding into the stereotype as “sexual commodities” or promiscuous nymphs.

In addition, I appreciated the freedom of expression and the reinvention of identity that Sidibe’s photography enabled, because it allowed Malian women to explore their desired modern image without risking their reputation and marriageability. His photo studio served as private, safe space of identity negotiation as opposed to the public space of traditional identity outside of the studio.

Lastly, I noticed that Sidibe’s photography focused on evoking male curiosity, instead of curiosity in general, which makes me question the recognition of homosexuality in Malian culture. How do lesbian and queer Malian artists express their sexuality through photography and other forms of media?

Why is Saartjie Baartman Still Relevant?

Sentences

Thompson: In the introductory essay to the exhibition Black Womanhood: Images Icons, and the Ideologies of the African Body, Barbara Thompson examines the ways in which black female images have been distorted in dominant culture and in turn how black artists have in her words “confronted” and “decolonized” these images.

Response

Barbara Thompson’s introduction to the Black Womanhood exhibition at Dartmouth College’s Hood Musuem exposed many important details about the representation and (mis) representation of black bodies, specifically black women’s bodies. I found the first section about colonial fixations of the black body that were a dichotomy of repulsion and attraction. In this section, Thompson describes the work of Wangechi Mutu, a Kenyan artist, currently living in New York whose work is centered on the black female form. Interestingly, Mutu uses collage with a variety of different materials to create what Thompson calls “female superheroes.” When looking closely at Mutu’s piece Double Fuse on the first page of the article there is a woman that looks seductive, yet robotic and almost alien, which recalls the “othering” and simultaneous sexualizing of black women in the history of western visual culture. Mutu, however, presents a different take on these generalizations, making an all-powerful female figure, with dualities that create her identity, rather than detract from it. While Thompson does not explicitly reference Saartjie Baartman, the South African woman brought to Western Europe to literally be put on display in the early 19th century. Baartman became know as Hottentot Venus or Black Venus referenced in the title of this section of the article. Many contemporary black women artists in particular have called upon the history of exploitation and legacy of Saartjie Baartman, whose genitals and brain were preserved and yet again put on display in Paris. These artists such as Renée Cox and Renée Green, present a critique of the systems that enslaved black female bodies in the 19th century through the present day. The difference between these artists is there method of production. Green does not use bodies to represent the legacy of Baartman but rather a stage for viewer to climb on and read observations of her body as well of the body of Josephine Baker on display in her 1990 piece Seen. Cox, however becomes Baartman in Hot en Tot, where she photographs herself with prosthetic breasts and butt to expose the ways in which black women’s bodies are typified as exotic, yet not all black women fit this mold. Each of these pieces makes me wonder why black women’s bodies are still marginalized and generalized, and how art may help to alleviate these fallacies.

Black Queer Identity

In Barbara Thompson’s article Decolonizing Black Bodies: Personal Journeys in the Contemporary Voice examines artists techniques in “confronting and decolonizing the dichotomous relationship between European cultural imagination and stereotypes against the black female body” (279). Many artists describe feelings of conflicting identity due to own racial markers that are marginalized in their birth country such as Etiye Dimma Poulson who feels like a “cultural hybrid”. However, this flexibility and adaptation on behalf of these artists, their presence and signifier are often prone to misinterpretations, labeling them as the ‘exotic Other’, such as beasts, nymphs, slaves, servants and sexual commodities.

I thought it was really interesting that the artist Zanele Muholi, a South African artist used her work to expose the queer community in South Africa, and also strips stereotypical translations of the female black body. Her photography offer new definitions of masculinity and femininity within a culture that tries to undermine and ignore the existence and presence of queers in their community. 

Her work as Thompson states, “transgresses deep taboos about black female same sex practices, she offers a radical break from male dominated narratives about black female sexuality” (300). I wonder how her work has been showcased in South Africa and whether the exposure of queers has caused disruption and became a double edged sword. For the exposure of queers in this visual art form is not only a beautiful composition but may ‘out’ certain people and cause unintentional problems.

Sentences:

Thompson: Thompson argues that artists place black womanhood from a radicalized position into a discourse about complex identities.

Taylor: Documenta 11 catalogs a new global vision of art expressive of migration, colonialism, change and identity.

Pariah: In Pariah, Alike struggles with her queer identity, familial contentions, and her own self affirmation in the face of adversity.

The Black Female Body

Pariah: Pariah follows its protagonist, Alike, as she navigates processes of identity-making and belonging through personal and familial relationships.

Thompson: Though Western imagery persistently frames the black female body as simple stereotypes, the contemporary artists of Black Womanhood undermine, reconstruct and decolonize these categorizations.

Taylor: Taylor recounts documenta 11: a 2002 contemporary art show in Kassel, Germany that asserted a ‘global,’ multinational awareness.

Pariah is at once a familiar narrative and a decidedly progressive approach to the coming of age of a young woman. In the protagonist’s attempts to navigate relationships—be they familial, romantic or platonic—she reveals the raw ways in which individuals struggle to define their own conceptions of self, identity and belonging. This self-fashioning is a persistent theme of the film as Alike confronts a series of trying experiences, from rejection and complicated emotions to violent responses to her sexuality by her mother. Throughout the film, several figures use specific terminologies that incite specific stereotypes of sexuality (eg. AG, etc.) and serve as archetypes of sorts to Alike. Such monikers, in addition to the other terms used throughout the film, remind me of Thompson’s analysis of Western stereotypes and the process by which contemporary artists undermine these simplified categories to subvert and redefine the image of the female body. As exemplified by Maria Campos-Pons, the effect of such redefinition is the recolonzation and reinstitution of agency to the black female body. As noted by Thompson, the “body accepts and rejects, maintains and transforms, deconstructs and reconstructs blackness, femininity, and sexuality—based on her own terms rather than those imposed upon her.” (306) This beautiful summation is also incredibly relevant to Pariah in its negotiation and navigation of stereotypes and identity, raising the question how stereotypes alter our own perceptions of self. How do stereotypes—perpetuated by language, imagery, etc.—affect our own senses of belonging in society? How do we embrace, negate or subvert these monikers?

The Power of Visual Technology: Weapons and Witness

I find it fascinating how the camera can be used both as a weapon of self-defense and as a supporting witness. The camera serves as weapon by negating the hypergendered, hypersexualized, and other unfavorable representations that the “other” may force onto the body through its stereotypical lens and as a witness by providing support through a firsthand account of the subject’s true, real identity. In “Imprisoned in a Luminous Glare” by Leigh Raiford, the camera also serves as an ally and as an enemy to the Black Panther Party (BPP) by enabling the Party to negotiate dominant gender roles and debunk the stereotypes of the black body as a violent being on one hand and by feeding into this racial assumption through the “black male gaze” to invoke fear in the police and portray fearlessness to the black community on the other. The power of gaze also stood out to me when looking at the still images of the Black Panther Party because I was able to perceive fear, a feeling that proves the success of the BPP’s efforts.The photographs produced by the camera also enables commodification of both the black male and the relationship between the black community and the state by allowing the FBI to use the medium to counter the efforts of the BPP by tainting their image of good intention through mass media representation. Additionally, commodification is also introduced in the visual imagery published in the Black Panther, which provides a consistent image of the BPP as a whole in the midst of various BPP chapters being created nationally. With the recirculation of images of the BPP, I wonder how various audiences (racially, and nationally and internationally) now perceive the history of African-Americans in the United States compared to how they viewed the images during their first circulation in midst of political turmoil.

This week’s reading truly exposed me to the power of a photograph in determining identity. Prior to this course I solely viewed the camera for the purpose of capturing moments in history, totally ignoring the impact an image can have on one’s representation to the audience.

Johnson: Through assemblage, African-American artists used art to portray freedom and struggle and to promote solidarity; however, people who did not identify with the Black cultural narrative referred to symbols in Black art as “social realist cliches.”

Jones: African-American artists used black historical experiences, such as the Civil Rights Movement, and artifacts from protest demonstrations to inspire and enhance their assemblages, which represented the transformation within black art and the black community.

Raiford: The Black Panther Party used the visual technologies of their physical presence and photography to educate the people about their mission and programs and to negate their militant image that was portrayed by the state through the dominant mass media arena.