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.

Colonial Narratives, Artistic Confrontations

For this response, I will focus on the first half of Barbara Thompson’s “Decolonizing Black Bodies: Personal Journeys in the Contemporary Voice”. Thompson carefully explores the historical representations of black women as the venus, the odalisque, and as mothers while focusing on the ways in which black artists have confronted the colonial imaginations of black women through their own works.
Both colonial and post-colonial narratives have fixated on the body and purported sexuality of African and black women as a counter-narrative to white womanhood. Where the black woman was lustful, voluptuous, and unclad, the white woman was modest, demure, and pure. African and black artists such as Wangechi Mutu, Sokari Douglas Camp, and Emile Guebehi physically exaggerate the black female form in a variety of mediua. In doing so, they expose the colonial exaggerations of black women as “ethnographic specimen(s) and anthropological curiosities” (283) and disrupt the historical stereotypes.
In the nineteenth century, colonialism created fictionalized narratives of Africa “which reinforced racist visual and ideological landscapes” (284) through photography. This often focused on the idea of harems and the black female nude as a subject. Moroccan artist Lalla Essaydi uses photography to illustrate the construction rather than reality of photography by focusing on the sexuality alluded to veiled African bodies. Photographers Carla Williams, Malick Sidibe, and Alison Saar disrupt the colonial notions of black women by reclaiming the black nude female figure.
For me, the most interesting section of this reading focused on the colonial narratives (and contemporary artistic challenges) of African and black motherhood. The African mother was the cornerstone of colonialism and imperialism, while in the post colonial context, African and black mothers continue to be defined by the colonial interpretations and representations. The figure of a black woman holding a white child was a popular method of highlighting black women’s ‘natural’ caretaker instinct that ignored the experiences of these women. Artists Joyce J. Scott and Senzeni Marasela challenge the “Mammy” figure, dismantling the notion of the nurturing caretaker and highlighting the harmful effects on black women and their children. Recalling the typical pose of a black woman posing with a child in her lap, photographer Fazal Sheikh creates powerful portraits of Somali refugee mothers with their children. By collaborating with the subjects of his portraits, Sheikh empowers them to convey the reality of their experiences.

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?

Chic of Queer

The broad reach and fast circulation of images and ideas in cyberspace accelerate and enable mobilizations of identity and politics in a larger scale; as such, during the  war of terror following the 2001 terrorist attack on the World Trade Center, images of queer Iranians became more visible, but also were limited in their exposure of the queer experience.

In the case of Ayaz Marhouni and Mohamad Asgari, their arrest for the rape of a young boy was turned into a story of martyrdom of two gay individuals, despite a lack of evidence about their sexuality.

The visible gayness becomes a symbol for the oppression and backwardness of Iran. However, as discussed with Professor Sakhsari today, this oppression then becomes the excuse for sanctions and violent attacks without consideration of the effect that has on the very populations we try to “protect”.

The Others: the Colonized and the Iranian Queers

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

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.

New Media

The Iranian socia movements towards LGBTQ people reflect Western ideals of a more integrated and democratic society. New tools like the internet provide a platform for discussion on intolerance in societies, however they can also be manipulated to advance the political aims on individuals & organizations. As the debate over inclusion heats up across Iran, there is a question over how change should occur. Should it be through social movements or public policy? Although the social movements have seemingly had more success, has it really changed attitudes within the society? The movements direction towards Western influence reflect sentiments of more developed nations as being more accepting. However is this true? Although the internet has been a useful tools, western ideals about the direction of the movement can conflict with the sentiment of local, Iranian organizations.