Category Archives: Queer Perspectives

Offering Alternatives

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Golden: Discusses how the exhibition Black Male addressed aspects of invisibility and over-interpretation of black male body.

Mercer: Fani-Kayode’s photography explores the erotic as it relates to black masculinity by employing a ruptured disasporic spirituality and his own positionality as a queer man of African descent to make “interventions at the intersections”.

Julien: There was quite a bit going on in this film, but suffice to say Julien succeeded in queering the archive of the Harlem Renaissance not just with the abundant visual representation of queer black men, by also by neatly balancing representing black queen men as producers rather than as purely subjects and discussing the ways that queer black men can become subjects (i.e. the erotic tourism of white men to Harlem, employing the photos of Robert Mapplethorpe, etc).

All three texts that we were assigned today for class can really be brought together when we explore the bell hook’s quote that Golden presents us which says that the conversation of black male representation is not simply a question of critiquing the status quo, but about transforming the image, creating critical alternatives, and subverting what already exists. This is undoubtedly difficult to do especially because, as Golden points out, sometimes what we consider our “good” representations don’t necessarily offer us new locations and interventions, but stop at reactions to and critique of the stereotypical representations of the black male body created by white producers.  What is important about watching Looking for Langston and reading about Fani-Kayode (as well as being offered the various artists in Black Male) is that we are analyzing texts that are offering alternatives that can exist both as new forms for intellectual and cultural exploration and in this presentation up against the images that we have learned so well, they can also exist as critique. Especially evident in Looking for Langston, today’s texts emphasize the importance of being exposed to black producers creating new, interventionist black products. Being exposed to this next step seems especially important since Golden’s framework that she presents the exhibition in really emphasizes the necessity of having three elements present in analyzing the black male body (images that explore the physical and the psyche, images that transform what we are currently being offered in the mainstream, and images that represent true multiplicity).

“Looking” Behind and Beyond the Image of Black Masculinity

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Thelma Golden brings together artists who challenge the fetishized and over-determined image of black masculinity.

Kobena Mercer highlights photographer Rotimi Fani-Kayode’s interest in the ecstatic possibilities of shattering identity.

Looking for Langston defies narrative and temporal conventions in a queer historiographic intervention.

History is “the smiler with the knife” in Looking for Langston. Violence is foregrounded as a powerful force in the construction of historical narratives as well in the very act of looking.  If we agree with Thelma Golden’s assertion that representation is central to power and that “the real struggle is over the power to control images,” then Looking for Langston can be seen as an intervention speaking truth to power.  The formal experimentation with narrative structure, the nonlinear montage of poetry with archival images, for example, and the use of multiple voices supports the radical intervention undertaken by the film.  Isaac Julien undertakes an intersectional exploration of race, gender performance and sexuality that, in terms of both content and form, is multifaceted and fluid.  As Golden and Mercer point out in their analyses of the images circulating of black masculinity and sexuality, these images overwhelmingly confine black male identity to the fixed, singular vision of white patriarchy. The film self-reflexively displays the processes by which images of black gay men are consumed while attempting to reclaim a space for black voices to queer the dominant narrative about the Harlem Renaissance.  In a sequence about midway through the film the possessive white gentleman from the club sequences walks past a series of projected images of black male nudes, touching the screen as he passes.  Thus this film, like the photographers who reacted to Mapplethorpe’s Black Males series, for example, explores the troubled dynamics of voyeuristic pleasure and fetishism that operate in the images circulating of black masculinities.

Black Female Body and Sexuality Part 2

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In the second half of the article Thompson explores the intersectionality of Black womanhood as it relates to the Black female body. Thompson challenges us to think about the compacted effect race, gender, and sexuality has on the Black female body in the section of her article entitled “”.Nandipha Mntambo and Berni Searle, both artists from South Africa, challenge pre-conceived notions of the Black female body by reclaiming the body and using it as a site of protest. In Berni Searle’s art she forces the viewer to be conscious of both her identity as a woman and as Black. I feel this intersect of identity is complex but is often over-simplified through the eyes of Western Viewers.
 

For this reason, I appreciated Stearle’s fight against the Western propensity to associate nude Black women with sexuality. She instead uses her nude body to counteract and criticize the Western perspective and to evoke the history of abuse and violence directed toward the Black female body, specifically violence against the Black female body in the various forms of sexual abuse (299). Zanele Muholi, also an artist from South Africa, takes it a step further through exploring the added layer of sexuality in relation to the Black female body. LGBTQI issues are not often discussed with in Black communities and I think Muholi’s intention to use this photograph to make a political statement is both awesome and admirable. Muholi’s piece Sex ID Crisis is one of my favorite pieces in this article because the image is able to capture the complexities of what it means to be a Black lesbian woman in a simplistic manner. Muholi’s image also evokes a history of violence against the LGBTQI community. For me the piece incites critical thinking about what it means to be a lesbian in an black society and the unique challenges accompanied by that multi-layered.
 

The final part of the article encompasses the component of transnationalism into the conversation on the intersectionality of Black female identities. This section of the article reminds me of W.E.B. Dubois’s concept of “double consciousness”. Dubois explains “double consciousness” as the dilemma of having to embody two distinctly different and contradicting identities into one identity. Thompson explores art from producers rooted in histories of forced migration and art from artists who were raised in the land of the colonizers. As an African-American woman I have struggled with defining my identity especially in relation to Africa. Consequently, I really enjoyed learning how artists from similar backgrounds,who struggle with identity crises too, express their sentiments on this issue through art. The fusion of both identities is really beautiful to me especially when conceptualized in art forms like Magdalena Campos-Pon’s piece When I am not Here.

De-colonizing the Queer Self

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“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

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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 Others: the Colonized and the Iranian Queers

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Summaries:
“From Homoerotics of Exile to Homopolitics of Diaspora by Sima Shakhsari”: The Internet and the post war on terror environment foster an intellectual environment for the digital presence of Iranian queers.
Contemporary Art by Taylor: Colonization led to artistic appropriation of “subordinate” cultures and enforced the “other” identities

Blog:
In Contemporary Art, Taylor explores various identities of otherness affected by colonialism and historical appropriation. The identity crisis of these individuals contrasts with the “other” experience of queers from the Iranian diaspora as explained in Sima Shaksari’s “From Homoerotics of Exile to Homopolitics of Diaspora by Sima Shakhsari.” The Iranian diaspora belongs to a country which lacks a history of colonialism and is affected by its national identity rather than historical appropriation. In the motherland, the national identity promotes a heterosexual narrative and persecutes those who identify as homosexuals. Hence, Iranian queers exist as the “other” of their accepted national identity. Like the identities affected by colonialism, queers of the Iranian diaspora are affected by the West. On a visit to Columbia University in September 2007, Iranian President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad stated in response to a question about execution of Iranian homosexuals that “[I]n Iran we don’t have homosexuals like in your country.” He expressed a common belief in Iran that homosexuality is associated with Western culture. This is perpetuated by a history of conflict with the United States and the West. Recent sanctions and declarations, including Bush’s labeling of Iran as an “axis of evil” in 2002, against the country worsen the relationship of Iran with the West and the relationship of Iran with its queers.
Taylor explains how the “others” affected by colonialism purposely use appropriation to express their identities. Whereas Iranian queers, as stated by Shaksari, are conveying their narrative via outlets of the Internet, such as blogs and online magazines. Iranian gay activists and bloggers, such as Arsham Parsi, utilize cyberspace as a haven to articulate perspective, network with other queers, and depict visibility. Although examples of Parsi mark great strides, online homophobic hate speech claiming a purpose of freedom counteracts the progress. Also, a need for diverse voices exists in online Iranian queer forums. Like identities affected by colonialism, Iranian queers still face obstacles in defending their rights in their claimed forms of expression.

Shift From Exile to Diaspora

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Sima Shakhsari’s essay on how the war on terror increased the hyper visibility of queer Iranians via cyberspace delved into a lot of complex issues surrounding Iran and the country’s attitude towards homosexuality.  What I found most interesting about the piece was the exploration of the shift from exile to diaspora.  The juxtaposition of a backwards and traditional Iran and the fast paced, innovative Internet provided by Shakhsari helps us to understand the shift in depth.  As a result of the war on terror, the media was constantly covering Iran and information on Iranian queers became more visible.  This in turn gave them a stronger international presence and identity which before that point was denied as seen in instances like Iranian President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad’s visit to Columbia University where he declared “In Iran we don’t have homosexuals like in your country”.

Before the war on terror, this mentality of homosexuality as a non-existent factor within Iranian culture figuratively stripped Iranian queers of their Iranian identity not only within Iran but outside of Iran as well.  For example, although many queer Iranians living outside of Iran consider themselves exiles, “the Iranian exilic imaginations have incessantly excluded Iranian queers” (Shakhsari).  This is extremely important to note because Iran didn’t even fully acknowledge individuals of Iranian descent that identified as queer in their most negative image – exile.  Instead, Iranian culture placed “queer” in the image of Western civilization and attributes the queering of Iranian individuals as perversion from the West.

Identifying as a queer individual automatically makes an issue of sexual orientation political as we see in Arsham Parsi’s case.  “This situation is both a burden and a tremendous personal responsibility for me…I fully devote my labors toward achieving for myself and my fellow citizens in Iran the treasured dream and desire of so many millions around the globe…freedom.” (19, Shakhsari)  This sentiment coupled with the war on terror and the innovation of technology ultimately led to an increase in engagement, communication, and support for Iranian queers located outside of Iran – ultimately ushering in the shift from exile to diaspora.

Hiding Prejudice Behind Virtual Walls

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Shakhsari: Sima Shakhsari unmasks the role that hegemonic and heteronormative imaginations play in shaping the neoliberal tolerance policies that have become popularized through virtual media with regards to Iranian Queers living within and beyond the nation’s borders.

Reading this article brings up my personal apprehension with the validity given to campaigns for equality based on tolerance as opposed to acceptance. Sima Shakhsari’s piece on the apparent shift from denial of the existence of the Iranian Queer community to the sudden “chic” and tolerance of queerness exposes the utility behind the queer aesthetic in advancing the nation-state’s flawed reputation as an antiquated and repressive place. As spelled out in Shakhsari’s article, fighting for women and gay rights is commonly seen as a sign of democracy, modernity, and compassionate civility. Using cyberspace as a medium to promote this seemingly tolerant policy allows for supposed opposition groups to advocate for gay rights on solely a topical level. If I were a blogger, re-posting an article about the “gay-hangings” in Iran without positing my own commentary on the heteronormative discourses that support a homophobic atmosphere would be a convenient way for me to touch on the issue of gay rights with a metaphorical 10-foot pole, i.e.from a safe distance.

It is unsettling to find that cyberspace, a virtual world that offers the opportunity for us to challenge and reassess the ways of the “real world,” can be manipulated to replicate the same power dynamics that exist in reality. Though the internet has offered many marginalized minorities a safe-space to empower themselves and build community, this article has helped me realize the way in which this medium can simultaneously be used to exploit these same populations. Shakhsasri illustrates how the heteronormative imagination that dominates our “real world” can ultimately saturate the borderless territory of the world wide web, disciplining and denouncing the humanity of the very populations that seek liberation.

 

 

 

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Taylor: Taylor addresses the rising interest in cross-cultural and ‘foreign’ references, artists and iconographies within the Western mainstream art dialogue in the 1960s and 1970s by analyzing—as well as critiquing—the varied performance and permanent works.

Shaksari: Shaksari analyzes the so-called ‘hypervisibility’ of queer culture in Iran in the last decade and the role of the internet and social media within simultaneous processes of acceptance and rejection by mainstream Middle Eastern culture.

 

Professor Sima Shaksari’s analysis of queer hypervisibility in Iran—in addition to studies of exile—rightly shows the varied processes at work in the increasingly modern social capital of the internet and social media. By considering the trends of activism and media attention, it becomes evident that the wide-reaching scope of the internet romanticizes diasporic and queer narratives; Shaksari specifically highlights the ways in which language contributes to the public perception of these subjects. In terms of this language, the tendency to romanticize (eg through the usage of ‘diaspora’ instead of ‘exile, etc.) has the capacity to undermine the inherent struggles of global forced migration. (Shaksari, 26) Shaksari argues that the “cosmopolitanism, tolerance, and increased mobility of the Iranian diaspora” cannot be removed from their context and, as such, the use of ‘diaspora’ within queer theories and the trend toward this term (and its romantic qualities) have the power to reduce and decontextualize the powerful experience of exile. (Shaksari, 25) By problematizing the term, Shaksari draws upon Anne-Marie Fortier (2000) to illustrate that terminology can facilitate an “easy acceptance of multi-locationality, hybridity, border crossing, and multiplicity” while also replacing the authentic experience of exile with a romanticized version that simplifies its multilateral nature.

Que(e)rying Queer Discourse

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Taylor: Contemporary artists outside of the West have used a variety of media to grapple with the oppressions they face in a post-colonial context.

Shakhsari: Despite the fact that the new inclusion and the visibility of the Iranian queer in cyberspace is positive, one must be extremely wary of the nature of this “acceptance” and critique the hegemonic and homonationalist discourses to which this “tolerance” adheres.

Shakhsari deftly tackles the subject of the Iranian queer, suddenly made hypervisible through the powers of cyberspace. Naturally, queer visibility and a move towards the acceptance and even celebration of queer people is a positive thing… But is it so thoroughly positive? Much of the Iranian diaspora, it seems, embraces a pseudo-inclusive mind-set, a bizarre sort of homophobic non-homophobia that seems all too familiar for queers anywhere. It’s the sort of irritating “I’m fine with gays, as long as they don’t hit on me” mentality, the “not in my backyard” thinking that feigns acceptance and really only whitewashes the homophobia just beneath the surface. Queerness, like “diaspora”, has become chic in the blogosphere, a trendy way of positioning yourself against the Iranian state, now with queers added! More disturbing than this “add queers and stir” method that Shakhsari identifies, in my mind, is the homonationalist discourse that dominates the queer Iranian blogosphere. While queer activists like Parsi are instrumental and have certainly done a lot for gay and lesbian Iranians, they have also left many of their queer siblings behind. When queer became chic, only the homonormative became chic, only certain Iranian queers were deemed “representable subjects” in this strategic inclusion. Much like the queer community in a national or even international perspective, it is the most privileged or most “normative” members of the community who are made visible, who are accepted, who are given agency. As Fraser has shown us (us here being ARTH/AFR 316, of course!), we must critique even the structures that give us (limited) power, we occasionally have to bite the proverbial hand that feeds if we wish to seek more satisfying sustenance later on. Shakhsari understands this, and chooses not to comply with homonormative and homonationalist discourses, instead remaining skeptical and attempting to queer the dominant queer discourse in a quest for an even better future.