Kobena Mercer, "Welcome to the Jungle: New Positions in Black Cultural Studies" (Book Note)

 

In his collected essays, "Welcome to the Jungle," Mercer articulates the nuances of what some of the "new positions" in black cultural studies might convey. Mercer adopts an unsentimental approach to social categories such as race, class, sexuality, and gender. Rather than dismissing their importance, he seeks to move beyond the confines of identity politics. Mercer advocates for a shift towards the more ambivalent and ambiguous terrain of multiple points of identification. Drawing a crucial distinction between identity and identification, he emphasizes the latter as a means to understand how political actions and practices are not rigidly tied to specific identities. Mercer challenges the assumption that a black body is inherently the locus of anti-racist politics, or that female bodies inherently represent feminism, and similarly, the gay body queer politics. He highlights that political identifications can traverse social categories, making it impossible to predict an individual's politics based solely on their identity.

 

"Welcome to the Jungle" poses probing questions about black cultural politics, centering its primary focus on issues of hybridity and creolization. Mercer engages both within and in opposition to cultural studies, particularly in essays like "Welcome to the Jungle: Identity and Diversity in Postmodern Politics" and "'1968': Periodizing Politics and Identity." He advocates for an understanding of identity as continuously unstable, and it is within this context of identity instability that he subjects political strategies and actions to scrutiny through the lens of representational practices.

 

Representational strategies and practices play a crucial role in highlighting the political significance of identity, providing artists, writers, filmmakers, and others with avenues to foster diverse and multiple identifications, transcending the constraints of social bodies. Mercer's work robustly challenges the essentialisms inherent in identity politics while remaining mindful of the historical importance of identity-based movements like the American civil rights movement, feminism, gay and lesbian liberation, and British anti-racism. Despite recognizing the contributions of these movements, Mercer calls for a broader political vision, particularly in the contemporary postmodern moment marked by the erosion of liberatory and emancipatory narratives.

 

Within the realm of art, especially in photography, fine art, and film, Mercer makes a compelling case for delving into the politics of identity and identifications. In his essay "Black Art and the Burden of Representation," he contends that the scarcity of spaces for black artists, writers, and filmmakers to exhibit their work places an undue burden on each piece and artist to represent and speak on behalf of the Black community. Mercer challenges the notion that black artists, appearing one at a time in the public eye, should bear the responsibility of representing an entire community. Instead, he advocates for a more nuanced approach in cultural politics, rejecting the tendency to view these artists as mere representatives and emphasizing the need for a complex critique. This more intricate approach involves not condemning artists for perceived failures in representing a specific imagined community but encouraging critiques that facilitate the proliferation of various representations of diverse imagined communities.

 

Mercer acknowledges the dual nature of the issue: firstly, the conservatism of a particular artist may raise questions about the political messages conveyed by their work. However, the second criterion becomes crucial—creating a space for the proliferation of other works with different narratives, enriching the cultural landscape of representations. Mercer's insightful analysis of Isaac Julien's films underscores their disruption of heteronormative assertions of blackness, introducing diverse perspectives into cultural artifacts and practices.

 

In his essays on black masculinities, particularly those examining Robert Mapplethorpe's work, Mercer offers illuminating insights. In "Imagining the Black Man’s Sex," he critiques Mapplethorpe's photographs of black male sexuality, highlighting the objectification of various stereotypes. Mercer questions the central focus on the penis and the headless black models. However, in a bold re-reading in "Skin Head Sex Thing: Racial Difference and the Homoerotic Imaginary," Mercer reconsiders his earlier analysis, exploring his own homoerotic response to the photographs. Through a complex and shifting analysis, he establishes an ambivalent relationship with the images, suggesting that seeing the black male nudes as the beginning of a subversive deconstruction opens up new possibilities. Mercer's ability to recognize the polyvocal quality of Mapplethorpe's work allows him to revise his position, accounting for biographical and autobiographical dimensions without resorting to a simplistic experiential mode.

 

Mercer challenges simplistic politics of experience and commonality in his essays, emphasizing the urgency of constituting a politics of liberation and emancipation amidst the collapse of such narratives. He avoids easy universalist statements about transnational blackness, arguing for dialogism that acknowledges the plural and heterogeneous nature of black identities. Mercer contends that critical dialogism questions the monologic exclusivity underlying dominant versions of national identity, emphasizing the potential for diasporic black peoples to make identifications across borders while remaining mindful of the ways in which the local organizes experience.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Brent Hayes Edwards, " The Practice of Diaspora" (Book Note)

 

While the trans-Atlantic connections between Africa, Europe, and the Americas have long been a subject of study, the recent resurgence in interest, particularly among younger scholars, can be largely attributed to the impact of Paul Gilroy's seminal work, "The Black Atlantic: Modernity and Double-Consciousness" (1993). As a sociologist trained in cultural studies, Gilroy argued for a diasporic model of cultural connection to comprehend the similarities and differences among black communities around the Atlantic. His work proposed the concept of "counter-modernity," challenging Western humanism and its institutions. While Gilroy's argument was both exciting and frustrating, particularly for its lack of empirical engagement, it played a pivotal role in reshaping the history of the Atlantic world.

 

"The Practice of Diaspora" by Brent Hayes Edwards situates itself between the theoretical and empirical approaches. Edwards, a literary scholar, focuses on contemporary cultural debates with a specific historical goal: to recover and analyze the trans-Atlantic relationships that developed among black intellectuals during the interwar period. Unlike Gilroy, Edwards adopts a more chronologically focused and empirically grounded approach, emphasizing Paris and the Francophone world. His methodology emphasizes language, translation, and the role of literary work in creating linkages and a common black sensibility in the Atlantic world, using sources such as journals, anthologies, and book prefaces to demonstrate that black internationalism was a tangible outcome of correspondence, translation, and other written practices.

 

In Chapter 1, Edwards discusses his sources and method, highlighting his commitment to "anti-abstractionist uses of diaspora" and introducing the notion of "ddcalage" to interpret how diaspora functions, emphasizing the disjuncture of time and distance inherent in any understanding of diaspora. Chapter 2 explores the correspondence between Rend Maran, the Martinican poet, and Alain Locke, the African-American writer and critic. Their relationship, sparked by Maran's influential work "Batouala," reveals the complexities of being black, a French citizen, and a colonial administrator in Africa. Chapter 3 delves into the life of Paulette Nardal, a Martinican in Paris who founded the bilingual journal "La Revue du monde noir" and hosted a weekly salon for black university students and visiting writers from Harlem, adding a significant gender dimension to Edwards's historical analysis.

 

In Chapter 4, the focus shifts to a detailed exploration of a single text, Claude McKay's novel "Banjo" (1929). Set in the port city of Marseilles and depicting black workers and drifters, Edwards discusses the novel's significance in creating a view of vagabond internationalism. Despite its promise of a black cosmopolitanism from below, this vision remains unfulfilled. Chapter 5 extends the proletarian theme by examining the collaboration between George Padmore and Tiemoko Garan Kouyaté through their connections with the Soviet Comintern. This final chapter intertwines black internationalism, anticolonialism, and Marxist-Leninism.

 

Kouyaté, born in Segu, Mali, emerges as a fascinating figure, expressing his wish to C. L. R. James that "Trotsky was a black man." Kouyaté's story becomes an allegory for activist-intellectuals, characterized by piercing ideas and imaginative effort but lacking institutional support. Edwards poignantly notes the fragility of connections, such as a momentary possibility of collaboration between Kouyaté and W. E. B. Du Bois that remains unrealized.

 

The detailed insight and verve that Edwards brings to this history reveal a conceptual and empirical richness uncommon in similar studies. While familiar figures like Du Bois, James, and Garvey make appearances, Edwards's committed exploration of lesser-known figures like Maran, Nardal, and Kouyaté adds excitement to the study. Even figures like Nguyen Ai Quoc (later Ho Chi Minh) are present through their relationships with Lamine, Senghor, and others in the Union Intercoloniale.

 

Some historians may have reservations about "The Practice of Diaspora." It reads more like a series of essays than a sequence of chronological chapters, with occasional digressions into conceptual discussions that might feel dense with names and jargon. Additionally, the concept of "décalage," while causal, is not fully developed as a historical theory. The focus remains on "publication" history rather than "event" history, and a broader pattern beyond these tenuous links may not fully materialize.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Henry Louis Gates Jr. (ed), Black Literature and Literary Theory" (Book Note)

 

The primary purpose of literary criticism is to shed light on works of art, and the literature of the African diaspora has garnered attention from a diverse array of literary critics representing various critical perspectives. Critical theories spanning Formalism, Marxism, Psychoanalysis, and Structuralism have all contributed to the examination of these literatures. A significant contemporary challenge facing critics of Black literature is the formulation of a critical theory rooted in black culture. Influential artists like Chinua Achebe, Mongo Beti, Ngugi Wa Thiong'o, Langston Hughes, Zora Neale Hurston, Richard Wright, Toni Morrison, and George Lamming have been profoundly shaped by their cultural backgrounds. Consequently, valid interpretations of their works must be sensitive to the cultural milieu from which they emerged.

 

In the introductory essay to "Black Literature & Literary Theory" titled "Criticism in the Jungle," Gates defines "black" as encompassing African, Caribbean, and Afro-American literature. He raises the implicit question of how applicable contemporary literary theory is to the reading of African, Caribbean, and Afro-American literary traditions. The response to this question unfolds in a series of essays by scholar-critics who demonstrate a nuanced understanding of contemporary theories and Afrocentric aesthetic postulations. The collection also, to some extent, addresses the call made during the Black Arts Movement of the 60s for the conceptualization of a critical theory divorced from Western theories.

 

The initial essay by Nigerian writer Wole Soyinka delves into the language of the social critic, critically engaging with Roland Barthes' definitions of langue and parole. Soyinka expresses discontent with critics, such as Gerald Moore and Bernth Lindfors, who have misinterpreted his works. However, the essay leaves the reader without a clear view of the applicability of Barthes' theory to "black letters." In contrast, James Snead's "Repetition as a Figure of Black Culture" emerges as one of the most enlightening contributions in the collection. This essay lends credibility to the advocacy for a theory of interpretation rooted in culture. Snead challenges Hegel's assertion that "black culture simply did not exist in the same sense as European culture did" and discusses the relevance of "repetition" in black culture, emphasizing its pivotal role. Using examples from artists like James Brown and John Coltrane, Snead illustrates how this motif from African music influences contemporary artists such as Toni Morrison, Ishmael Reed, and Leon Forrest in their literary works.

Structuralism has encountered resistance among critics of Black Literature, with the pioneering work of Sunday Anozie, as seen in "Structural Models & African Poetics" (1982) and his essay in "Black Literature and Literary Theory" (pp. 105-125), failing to sway critics toward embracing structuralist poetics. Anthony Appiah's strong rebuttal to Anozie's application of structuralism to African works (pp. 127-150) further elucidates the fundamental suspicions held by critics of Black literature regarding the "applicability" and relevance of this theory within the literary canon. The reluctance to adopt structuralist theories in African and Afro-American criticism stems from the theory itself, which views a work of art as an autonomous system of structures requiring "decodification." Some critics find structuralism to be an escapist approach that lacks social and political commitment.

 

While structuralism has faced skepticism in the realm of Black literature, certain aspects of it, such as intertextuality and studies on myth and folktale by Levi-Strauss and Vladimir Propp, may offer useful insights. Propp's method of breaking down folktales into component parts and analyzing their relation to the whole, as demonstrated in Jay Edwards' essay on the "Structural Analysis of the Afro-American trickster tale" (pp. 80-103), reflects a potential avenue for exploration.

 

The second part of "Black Literature and Literary Theory," titled "Practice," features insightful essays on African-American literature by Bowen, Johnson, Baker, Washington, Wills, Stepto, and Gates. These essays interpret works from the literary canon through various perspectives. Barbara Johnson and Mary Helen Washington, for instance, emphasize the seminal role of the "feminist voice" that has been overlooked by scholars and critics. Their analyses of Zora Neale Hurston's "Their Eyes Were Watching God" and Gwendolyn Brooks' "Maud Martha" underscore the pivotal contributions of these texts to African-American literature. Recent critical studies, such as Mari Evans' "Black Women Writers (1950-1980)," are expected to expand the scope of literary theories applied to Black literature, especially the works of women writers.

The essay that stands out as particularly provocative in "Black Literature and Literary Theory" is authored by Henry Louis Gates Jr., titled "The blackness of blackness: a critique of the sign and the signifying monkey" (pp. 285-321). Carolyn Fowler, in her intriguing introduction to "Black Arts and Black Aesthetics," contends that works in Black literature require new value judgments that acknowledge the cultural artifacts shaping the artistic sensibilities of the writers. In 1973, Stephen Henderson, in his significant essay "The Forms of Things Unknown" (See "Understanding the New Black Poetry," pp. 3-69), formulated a critical theory for reading Black poetry. Gates' essay in the same volume is a pioneering work in a similar direction, proposing a theory of interpretation from "within the black cultural matrix."

 

Gates explores the role of the Signifying Monkey in black culture, identifying it as a trickster figure akin to those in Yoruba mythology, such as Esu-Elegbara in Nigeria and Legba among the Fon of Dahomey. He further explains the Signifying Monkey as the "signifier" wreaking havoc upon the "signified." Gates elucidates Afro-American narrative parody and applies it to the analysis of Ishmael Reed's "Mumbo Jumbo," considering it a "signifying pastiche of the Afro-American narrative tradition." Drawing from diverse sources in black culture, Gates establishes a solid theoretical framework and analyzes the works of major Afro-American writers. He contends that Ellison, for example, is a "Great Signifier" naming things indirectly throughout his works. Ellison engages in parodying Richard Wright's literary structures through repetition and difference.

 

In a detailed analysis of Ishmael Reed's "Mumbo Jumbo," which parodies the Harlem Renaissance, Gates suggests that the work is both about texts and composed of sub-texts, pre-texts, post-texts, and narratives within narratives. Gates' insightful analyses are informed by sociological, linguistic, and historical data from black culture. While "Black Literature and Literary Theory" is a pioneering and provocative text for students of Black literature and contemporary theories, it is noted for a major weakness— the absence of an essay on Afro-Caribbean literature, especially considering Gates' definition of "black" as a metaphor for the African diaspora. Nonetheless, the collection supports the notion that contemporary theories can indeed illuminate works in Black literature, with the most rewarding theories rooted in Black culture.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Ron Eyerman's "The Past in the Present Culture and the Transmission of Memory" (Summary)

 

Ron Eyerman’s article aims to introduce the concept of cultural trauma, focusing on its relevance to the experience of slavery and the development of African American identity. It explores the ideas of 'collective memory' and 'collective identity' in connection with a theory about intellectual generations. The argument suggests that the notion of being 'African American' emerged as a response by a group of black intellectuals who grappled with their exclusion from American society, despite promises of full integration after the Civil War (1861–1865). In this process, slavery was not merely an event but a powerful memory that played a central role.

 

Historical accounts have traditionally revolved around the belief that history is made up of lived stories, both individual and collective. Historians were seen as storytellers tasked with uncovering and retelling these narratives. The truth of these narratives was believed to lie in their alignment with the lived experiences of people in the past. However, as history evolved into a formal discipline, its connection with collective memory became more complex and constrained by scientific norms and evidential standards. Despite this, the narrative form and intention persisted, even with a heightened focus on factual documentation.

 

Hayden White offers a thoughtful exploration of the interplay between history and memory, seeking to reconcile their relationship by placing both within their respective temporal and socio-political contexts—essentially, within the broader scope of history.

 

Sociologists don't frequently delve into the realm of memory, and even less so into history. Here, Eyerman aims to depart from that tradition by emphasizing the significance of the past and collective memory in shaping identity. While this discussion is based on the research into the formation of African American identity within the framework of cultural trauma, the essay presenta a more general model centered on the concepts of cultural trauma, collective memory, and narrative.

 

Cultural trauma, provides a framework for understanding how collective identities develop in response to significant events. Unlike individual trauma, which involves personal emotional distress, cultural trauma refers to a profound loss of identity and meaning experienced by a cohesive group of people due to a major societal upheaval. This trauma doesn't necessarily affect every member of the group, nor do they all have to directly experience the traumatic event. However, it's crucial to establish the event's significance and recognize its traumatic impact. This process takes time and requires public reflection and discussion. In modern societies, media representations play a significant role in shaping collective understanding.

 

Neil Smelser defines cultural trauma as a memory that is acknowledged and accepted by a relevant group, recalling an event or situation loaded with negative emotions. It's seen as indelible and is believed to threaten the society's existence or challenge its core cultural beliefs. The key idea is that the formation of collective identity, closely tied to collective memory, can be rooted in experiences of loss and crisis, as well as moments of triumph. In fact, one way groups cope with loss is by attempting to transform tragedy into a narrative of triumph. This is a recurring theme in studies of cultural trauma, particularly in contexts like that of African Americans who have historically occupied a marginalized or subordinate position in society.

 

Sociologists don't often focus on memory, and when they do, it's sometimes viewed negatively as mere nostalgia. In modern times, there's a strong emphasis on looking forward to the future, rather than dwelling on the past. This idea is a core part of modernity and a key theme in classical sociological thinking. The aim is to break free from the constraints of history. Marx, for instance, pointed out how the weight of past events can heavily influence the present.

 

However, memory is essential for understanding society and how people interact within it. It serves as a mental map that helps individuals and groups navigate who they are, why they exist, and where they're headed. Memory is a crucial part of both personal and collective identity.

 

Usually, memory is thought of as something individual, residing within each person's mind. Theories about how people form their identities and develop socially tend to see memory as part of this process. Some models of collective identity, such as those in the collective behavior school, suggest that a "loss of self" occurs, freeing individuals from the constraints of memory, allowing new collective identities to emerge on their own.

 

In contrast, the Durkheimian tradition in social thought sees collective memory as vital for maintaining and perpetuating society. This view emphasizes collective events, rituals, and ceremonies that help uphold social cohesion. This perspective, as articulated by Paul Connerton, defines collective memory as shared recollections of the past passed down through ongoing acts of commemoration. These official rituals serve to remember a group's common heritage, with a shared history being a central component. These practices involve both physical and emotional elements, as the past is embodied and remembered through cultural customs.

 

In this view, individual memory is seen as stemming from collective memory. It's the collective memory that guides a group, providing the temporal and mental framework mentioned earlier. Collective memory brings a group together across time and space by offering a narrative framework, a shared story that situates individuals and their life stories within it. Because this narrative can be represented in various forms like text, art, or communication, it can be transported and shared widely.

 

This connection between collective memory and the formation of collective identity aligns with concepts of myth and ideology. Susan Sontag, in her discussion about the role of photography in representing pain, argues that there's no true "collective memory" in the strictest sense. Instead, what's often referred to as collective memory is more of a collective agreement on what's important and the story of how it happened. Images play a significant role in solidifying this story in our minds, serving as archives that support common ideas and evoke predictable thoughts and feelings. This distinction helps clarify the boundaries between the disciplines of history and collective memory.

 Slavery holds significant cultural importance and serves as a key memory in the shaping of African American identity. Successive generations of African American intellectuals have reflected on and reinterpreted its meaning, contributing to the collective narrative. After the American Civil War ended in 1865, there was hope for freedom and full citizenship for black Americans. However, as time passed, a new notion of "white-ness" emerged, leading to a reevaluation of the past, particularly the memory of slavery.

 

The first generation of black intellectuals arose in the 1890s, following the disappointment of the Reconstruction era and the reestablishment of segregation through practices like "Jim Crow." This led to a cultural trauma, prompting a reexamination of the past. The intellectuals, including figures like Booker T. Washington and W. E. B. Du Boi, played a significant role in this process.

 

Washington and Du Bois believed that cultural politics was crucial for gaining acceptance in American society, especially when traditional politics was not accessible to them. They emphasized the unique opportunities that slavery presented for black Americans, framing it as a stepping stone to racial progress. This perspective laid the groundwork for a progressive narrative that influenced the second generation.

 

In addition to these intellectuals, popular culture played a vital role in shaping the consciousness of this generation. Former slaves' narratives gained popularity, as did black-faced minstrel shows and the emergence of black novelists, poets, and folk music like the blues. These forms of expression transmitted the memory of slavery across generations.

 

The conditions and events that were formative for the second generation included black Americans' participation in World War I and the resulting demographic shifts. The Great Migration saw millions of black Americans move from rural areas to urban centers, fundamentally changing perceptions of their experiences. This period also saw the rise of mass media beyond print, with radio, film, and the recording industry playing significant roles.

 

The third generation was shaped by the Second World War, another wave of the Great Migration, and post-war prosperity. The progressive narrative gained prominence, framing the terms of representation. This narrative gave rise to the civil rights movement, led by figures like Martin Luther King, Jr., who emphasized inclusion through good works and religious themes.

 

As the civil rights movement progressed, a modernized form of Black nationalism emerged, influenced by new visions of Africa and anti-colonial movements. This revitalized the redemptive narrative, which competed with the progressive narrative for support among African Americans. The mass media, particularly television, played a crucial role in shaping public perceptions.

 

Ultimately, the civil rights movement saw a convergence and reconciliation of these two narrative frames. This history has been institutionalized in Black Studies programs at colleges and universities across the United States.

 

To conclude, in this study, Eyerman aimed to develop a theory of cultural trauma centered around the significance of slavery in shaping African American identity. While focusing on representation, it is crucial to acknowledge the real suffering and costs associated with this historical experience. He links the formation of collective identity with collective memory, viewing memory as a meaningful practice that underpins group identity. The term 'African American' emerged as a response to the collective rejection faced by black individuals by American society after the Civil War. Slavery, viewed not just as an experience but as a remembered concept, played a central role in this process. As the dominant white society reinterpreted the Civil War, pushing slavery and former slaves to the margins, a crisis of identity emerged for marginalized groups. This led to the proposal of the term 'African American' and the concept of a 'New Negro' shortly after. Successive generations of African Americans collectively shaped their identities in relation to the dominant society, with slavery as a backdrop.

 

This process took place in various domains, including politics through organizations like the NAACP, as well as through social movements and cultural struggles for representation and recognition. Throughout these arenas, the past always remained a significant factor.

 

The issue of how well the narratives align with actual experiences remains a topic for further exploration. It's akin to the challenge of established frameworks not fitting new situations, a concept often discussed in sociological studies of science or ideologies. These frameworks serve as the foundation for collective thinking.

 

At a practical level, both narrative frames—progressive and redemptive—implied specific courses of action. The progressive narrative aimed for long-term social integration to overcome marginalization, while the redemptive narrative, championed by figures like Malcolm X, advocated for withdrawal and separation.

 

On another level, the concept of narrative directly relates to personal experience. For instance, in discussions about the Truth and Reconciliation Commission in South Africa, narratives of memory are seen as a means to attain a more truthful understanding of apartheid. These narratives connect directly with experience and encourage critical reflection, offering an alternative perspective to established discourses of power.

 

In essence, narratives are accounts of events that structure them within a meaningful framework. They carry a truth-claim, which can be subject to challenge, as different frames of interpretation may lead to varying conclusions about the same set of facts. This usage of narrative encompasses both everyday understanding and broader theoretical frameworks, aiming to capture the evolution of understanding that guides social practices.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Looking at things from this viewpoint, the past serves as a shared reference point that shapes the collective identity of a group, even if not everyone experienced it firsthand. This understanding of the past is brought to life through symbolic interactions, storytelling, and discussions. Memory itself is influenced by these interactions and is used to validate and construct identity.

 

While physical objects, urban layouts, and museum displays can embody elements of the past, the meaning of the past is conveyed, understood, and passed down through language and conversation. These conversations take the form of stories, narratives that organize how they're told and impact how they're received. All communities and nations have foundational stories that explain who they are by recounting their origins. These narratives serve as core frameworks and are transmitted through traditions, rituals, ceremonies, and public events that reconnect the group and confirm membership. In this process, "we" are remembered, and "they" may be excluded.

 

These foundational narratives can be likened to discourse in the sense explored by Foucault, especially as outlined in his work "The Archaeology of Knowledge." While Foucault's discourses impose order from above and from outside through established knowledge, narratives are less rigid and more adaptable. Discourses dictate how texts should be interpreted, producing the meaning they convey; this links discourse to established power and, consequently, to ideology. Discourses, in this sense, unify and legitimize a diverse set of practices, creating a "system of relations." Even in fields like literature or popular culture, discourses can silently influence what gets published, read, and discussed.

 

Both narrative and discourse serve as framing structures that include and exclude, give voice and impose silence, shaping what can be seen and said, and by whom. Unlike Foucault's notion of discourse, collective narratives leave more room for individual agency while still providing a framework for individual stories to gain broader significance. While discourses involve power dynamics and empower those in the right positions, narratives can offer a platform for a "counter-story" from a minority or oppressed group, where some central concepts of a dominant discourse can be adopted and reinterpreted. For example, the concept of "race" was taken up and redefined by African Americans in their struggle to redefine their status in society. However, even within this process, more powerful representatives of a marginalized group can still exert a discursive influence in determining how their groups should be represented.

 

In many cases, founding narratives revolve around a significant and often traumatic event from which the collective identity of a group is said to have emerged. While these narratives share similarities with myths, they typically lack the all-encompassing and ontological scope usually associated with myths. However, regardless of their nature, these narratives are emotionally impactful. Founding narratives are about not only establishing a collective identity but also creating an "imagined" community. While this process is often studied in the context of nation-states and nation-building, it has been applied in studies of social movements and, more recently, in the examination of ethnic minority groups like black Americans, where a generational perspective complements the concepts of cultural trauma, collective memory, and narrative.

 

Cultural trauma draws attention to how we collectively remember events and the role of representation. There's also a power dynamic at play, with political leaders and mass media influencing which events get represented, impacting what gets remembered or forgotten. In the case of major events like civil wars, understanding and interpreting them may take time and distance. When there are winners and losers, the losing side might struggle to have their perspective heard, and it could take years, even generations, for them to share their side of the story.

 

In a study of how Spain remembers the Spanish Civil War, Igartua and Paez (1997) highlight four key factors in how memory changes over generations:

 

The need for enough time to pass for people to emotionally distance themselves from the traumatic event, whether it's a personal or a collective experience.

 

The requirement of social resources to support activities that commemorate and remember the event.

 

The natural aging of individuals involved, leading to selective remembering and forgetting.

 

The impact of this aging process on socio-political repression.

 

Ann DuCile's "Skin Trade" (Book Note)

 

In "Skin Trade," DuCille presents a thought-provoking compilation of five essays: "Toy Theory: Black Barbie and the Deep Play of Difference," "Monster, She Wrote: Race and the Problem of Reading Gender-Wise," "The Occult of True Black Womanhood," "Discourse and Dat Course: Postcoloniality and Afrocentricity," and "The Blacker the Juice: O.J. Simpson and the Squeeze Play of Race." With the exception of the chapters on Barbie and the O.J. Simpson case, all chapters are expanded versions of previously published works.

 

The chapter "Toy Theory: Black Barbie and the Deep Play of Difference" delves into the intersection of culture and commerce. It concludes that mass production often overly influences racial identity in its pursuit of uniformity. DuCille raises questions about what dolls teach young girls and explores the contradiction between Barbie's purported representation and the self-destructive behavior it can inspire. She also critiques how mainstream society exploits this "icon of idealized femininity" to perpetuate simplistic notions of racial, ethnic, and gender differences.

 

In "Discourse and Dat Course: Postcoloniality and Afrocentricity," DuCille critically examines how identity politics has infiltrated office politics, particularly in English departments where postcolonial studies may be implicitly favored over African American studies. She deconstructs the notion of postcoloniality as truly inclusive or anti-imperialist. While both disciplines are framed as "resistance narratives" and ostensibly advocate for an "anti-imperialist agenda," DuCille argues that postcoloniality often functions as a universal master narrative that reinforces the European or Anglo-American center. She questions whether countries like the United States, Canada, Australia, and New Zealand can be considered postcolonies when the colonial subjects are not the original inhabitants, but rather the European settlers and their descendants.

 

DuCille's essays are imbued with subtle wit, evident even in the afterword, "The More Bitter the Whine," where she anticipates criticisms of black feminist essentialism. By playfully inverting the title of Wallace Thurman's Harlem Renaissance novel "The Blacker the Berry," DuCille acknowledges her own project as a critical rejoinder to the enduring patterns of inequality.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Jacqueline Bobo's "Black Women as Cultural Readers" (Book Note)

 

In "Black Women as Cultural Readers," Jacqueline Bobo contends that black women have historically played crucial roles as "cultural producers, critics, and members of an audience." These roles have empowered them to strategically shape the imaginative portrayal, critical interpretation, and societal status of black women (27). Bobo eschews the typical approach of relying solely on academic scholars to analyze literary texts. Instead, she turns to black women who form the natural readership for her research. Through this analysis, Bobo articulates how black women challenge conventional depictions of themselves, pushing back against stereotypes that pigeonhole them as either dependent single mothers or domineering matriarchs.

 

The book is organized into five interconnected chapters: "Black Women as Interpretive Community," "Text and Subtext: The Color Purple," "Watching The Color Purple: Two Interviews," "Daughters of the Dust," and "Black Women Reading Daughters of the Dust," followed by a conclusion. Bobo's insightful analysis is influenced by cultural and film critics such as John Fiske, Donald Bogle, Hazel Carby, and Barbara Christian. She incorporates a "hybrid" scholarship, blending academic analysis with community perspectives. Moreover, Bobo situates her cultural criticism within a vernacular critical tradition that seeks to reclaim the collective past for strength and inspiration.

 

The second chapter, "Text and Subtext: The Color Purple," provides a glimpse into Bobo's stance. Here, she argues that Alice Walker's novel and Steven Spielberg's film convey conflicting cultural values. One of Bobo's primary contentions is that Spielberg's cinematic adaptation not only diminishes the female characters but also sidelines them from the central narrative.

 

In the third chapter, "Watching The Color Purple: Two Interviews," Bobo effectively demonstrates her methodology. She examines the insights gained from two separate group interviews conducted as part of her research on the novel and film. Bobo finds that the women's interpretations of the film were deeply influenced by their own backgrounds, histories, and social and cultural experiences. This underscores that the observations of these women viewers were as diverse, astute, and well-informed as those of professional critics.

 

Bobo poses sharp and incisive questions, many of which stem from her personal investment in "bringing black women's cultural texts into the public discourse." However, she maintains a balance between critical scholarship and the authentic voices of women who prove themselves to be adept cultural interpreters. As Coco Fusco aptly notes, "cultural identity and values are politically and historically charged issues for communities in this country whose ability to wield power and control their symbolic representations has been limited within mainstream culture."

 

 

 

 

 

 

African American Studies and Postcolonial Studies

 

African American studies and postcolonial studies, while distinct fields, share a common objective: to challenge and disrupt racial hierarchies. Analyses of power dynamics between colonizers and the colonized often parallel examinations of slavery and the relationships between masters and slaves. In both the United States and other postcolonial contexts, the enduring reality of discrimination and racism against minority populations serves as a unifying thread, fostering a collective critique of neocolonialism. This sentiment is echoed by renowned black feminist bell hooks, who asserts, "I believe that black experience has been and continues to be one of internal colonialism".

 

There exists a pressing need to decolonize the collective mindset of contemporary America, driving current endeavors to reclaim and unearth minority history and literature. Emerging sociological and literary methodologies, such as Hazel Carby's seminal work "Reconstructing Womanhood: The Emergence of the Afro-American Woman Novelist," prove invaluable tools for recuperating the past and establishing culturally sensitive frameworks for the future. Scholars like Henry Louis Gates, Barbara Christian, Ella Shohat, and Homi Bhabha are bound by a shared determination to engage in a dialogue of resistance and assertion.

African American studies and postcolonial studies share common ground in their exploration of critical issues like representation, essentialism, and nationalism. Within these disciplines, literature and literary theory serve as potent tools for social commentary. Henry Louis Gates advocates for debunking the notion of the supposed superiority of the "Western tradition" over so-called "non-canonical traditions like that of the Afro-American." In his work "The Signifying Monkey," Gates vigilantly addresses the dangers of essentialism, emphasizing the necessity "to create a fresh narrative space for portraying the recurring theme of Afro-American literature, often referred to as the Black Experience".

 

Similarly, Homi Bhabha, a prominent figure in cultural studies and postcolonial criticism, echoes the call to dismantle essentialist perspectives. He underscores the joint endeavor of postcolonial and black critique in reshaping the conditions of expression at the level of signs, cautioning against the mere establishment of new symbols of identity that might inadvertently fuel uncritical "identity politics".

 

Scholarship in African American and postcolonial studies frequently converges. Toni Morrison's "Playing in the Dark" meticulously examines how white selfhood in American literary discourse is shaped by the objectification of "black" presence. Edward Said's groundbreaking work "Orientalism" similarly contends that European culture derives strength and identity by positioning itself in opposition to the Orient, forming a surrogate and often subterranean self.

 

In the anthology "Race, Writing and Difference" edited by Henry Louis Gates, notable postcolonial critics like Gayatri C. Spivak and Abdul R. JanMohamed contribute, showcasing the intersection of these fields. Gates and Kwame Anthony Appiah, a scholar of Afro-American studies with insights into postcolonial theory, co-edit a more recent anthology titled "Identities." These instances of shared scholarship prompt a reconsideration of fundamental questions regarding the politics of reading and writing. They highlight the relevance of scholarly approaches that prioritize culturally attuned modes of engaging in academic discourse.

The confluence of race, ethnicity, and gender politics has sparked thought-provoking discourse within the works of bell hooks, Barbara Christian, and Shirley Anne Williams—all distinguished African American feminist critics. Likewise, the contributions of Gayatri Spivak and Chandra T. Mohanty have been instrumental in these discussions. In this discourse, patriarchy often serves as a metaphor, emblematic of power imbalances and a root cause of colonial and neocolonial injustices. bell hooks, in her work "Outlaw Culture," asserts, "For contemporary critics to condemn the imperialism of the white colonizer without critiquing patriarchy is a tactic that seeks to minimize the particular ways gender determines the specific forms oppression may take within a specific group".

 

However, within this intersection of marginalized perspectives lies the potential pitfall of totalization. Barbara Christian, in her piece "Race for Theory," issues a caution against essentialist portrayals of black womanhood, drawing parallels to the monolithic Black Arts Movement of the 1960s and 70s. Chandra Mohanty similarly advocates against such essentializing tendencies in the discourse surrounding Third World feminism. Both fields, African American studies and postcolonial studies, call for discussions on class. Hooks astutely addresses an often-overlooked issue in cross-cultural feminist dialogue, noting, "We often forget that many Third World nationals bring to this country the same kind of contempt and disrespect for blackness that is most frequently associated with white imperialism".

 

Looking ahead, Ann Ducille's essay, "Postcolonialism and Afrocentricity," not only underscores concerns regarding essentialism in both disciplines but also raises the unsettling possibility of their interchangeability. She observes, "Whereas the critique posed by African American studies and the alternative (non-Eurocentric) worldview asserted by Afrocentricity cut uncomfortably close to home, postcoloniality seems to offer its opposition from a distance—as Gayatri Spivak might say, 'in other worlds'".

 

Scholarship is trending towards a heightened self-awareness of individual, subjective identities. One strategy to counter unproductive generalizations of all "marginalized" voices involves a specific deconstruction of "race." Gates, Christian, and Sara Suleri (as seen in "Identities") are among those who push back against what they perceive as an unproductive homogenization of all "minority" discourses. The reconfiguration of American studies might serve as a fertile ground for commonality, with scholars like Hazel Carby and Mario Garcia challenging foundational tenets of American historiography. Meanwhile, critics advocate for a deeper examination of the overlaps and distinctions between multiculturalism, postcolonialism, and ethnic studies, all while addressing their evolution in light of the persistent specter of cultural insularity.