In the past four weeks, we have taken a momentary glimpse at the historical Black presence and the reactions to it, in Canada, the United States of America and the United Kingdom (www.daviddivine.co, blogs 7th April, Rise to the Challenge; 23rd March, ‘We are not what we used to be and not what we will be’; 14th March, Taking Command; and 7th March 2018, Protecting Our Children and Grandchildren: Hope in Black Possibility).
The crushing reality emerging from the insistent and persistent negative reaction from non-Blacks to the presence of Blacks of African descent is a combination of threat, fear, curiosity, beauty, attractiveness, power and control. How these factors amongst others play out in practice varies from geographic location to geographic location, time, context, issues prevalent at the moment and the individuals involved bringing their understandings of what they think they are participating in, their experiences of their lived lives to that date. All are mixed in to a cauldron resulting in negative outcomes for Blacks.
We as Black men have spent a disproportionate amount of time seeking to outline in detail the litany of ways our communities have and are being defined and compartmentalised by non-Blacks. This has been to our detriment at the expense of spending the necessary time to develop ourselves and our successors in ways that will not only prepare ourselves for the world we are global citizens of but to competently participate in that world with our humanity and dignity intact. We do need to have an honest appraisal of the world we live in and our place in it-assigned and wished for, but to spend most of our energies, time and resources on it depletes whatever energies are left to strategically work on practically how to live pridefully in this world we have inherited. I say ‘inherited’ advisedly because our presence leaves markedly few trace marks. We have been quietly erased.
Over the recent decades, there has been an increasing profile of individuals questioning why the experience of Blacks and the interpretation and articulation of it, has been hijacked by non-Black ‘experts’ who have colonised the experience and projected themselves as the ‘legitimate’ authorities on it and are regarded as such. The regard is manifested in acquiring paid commissions from state and non- state institutions to comment on our lived experience, who have their own vested interests. No lived experience of our reality, questionable understanding of our experience from a second-hand perspective, their trawling of experiences from Blacks at staged gatherings, peppered with carefully chosen associates- ‘safe’, unquestioning, complicit individuals of colour pulled in to attempt to offset anticipated criticism. The ‘packaging’ appears ‘correct’. The shopping expedition outcome is then collated, interpreted through the ‘expert’ tainted lenses with all the associated sequelae of voyeurs. The relegation of the voices of Blacks to the backwater is complete. Carefully written-up, filmed, audio-taped, sanitised, attuned to what is required by the commissioners. Distributed. Differing interpretations, diverse truths, removed or deemed inaccurate, seen as not reflecting the ‘reality’ as defined by the ‘authority’. Now they set off to the next project, commission, omission.
Reni Eddo-Lodge (2017), in her book, Why I’m no Longer Talking about Race, states the following after outlining her exhaustion in trying to explain to non-Blacks about the experience of our day to day lives, the ‘glaring lack of understanding or empathy for those of us who have been visibly marked out as different for our entire lives, and live the consequences. It’s truly a life of self –censorship that people of colour have to live. The options are: speak your truth and face the reprisal, or bite your tongue and get ahead in life…I cannot continue to emotionally exhaust myself trying to get this message across…
So I am no longer talking to White people about race. I don’t have a huge amount of power to change the way the world works, but I can set boundaries. I can halt the entitlement they feel towards me and I’ll start that by stopping the conversation. The balance is too far swung in their favour. Their intent is often not to listen or learn, but to exert their power, to prove me wrong, to emotionally drain me, and to rebalance the status quo. (pp. xii)’
The concerns of Reni Eddo-Lodge are not new, they have been around for generations but rarely more eloquently than in the voices of Cherrie Moraga and Gloria Anzaldua (editors) and Toni Cade Bambara (Foreword) in, This Bridge Called My Back: Writings by Radical Women of Color (1981). The book includes ‘An Open Letter to Mary Daly’ (1979, pp.94-97) by Audre Lorde that seeks to keep a door open to dialogue between two women, one White and one Black. Both women were deeply involved in advancing the human rights of women but recognising the historical journeys of Black women and its unique impact on Black women, was lost on Mary Daly and Audre Lorde was compelled to respond in writing and this is what she said in part:
‘This letter has been delayed because of my grave reluctance to reach out to you, for what I want us to chew upon is neither easy nor simple. The history of White women who are unable to hear Black women’s words, or to maintain dialogue, with us, is long and discouraging. But for me to assume that you will not hear me represents not only history but an old pattern of relating, sometimes protective and sometimes dysfunctional, which we, as women shaping our future, are in the process of shattering. I hope’ (Lorde, A. pp.94).
‘Within the community of women, racism is a reality force within my life as it is not within yours.’ (Lorde, A, pp.97)
‘I had decided never again to speak to White women about racism. I felt it was wasted energy, because of their destructive guilt and defensiveness, and because whatever I had to say might better be said by White women to one another, at far less emotional cost to the speaker, and probably with a better hearing. This letter attempts to break this silence. I would like not to have to destroy you in my consciousness. So as a sister Hag, I ask you to speak to my perceptions.’ (Lorde, A. pp.97)
In exploring journeys of Black youth to Black manhood in a six-part series commencing next week, 25th April 2018, I will focus on our first voices as Black men, reflecting on our passage, as the primary experts on our lives and lived experience. Our Truths are not for debate. We are sharing them.