BLACK SCHOLARPub Date : 2022-01-02DOI: 10.1080/00064246.2022.2007443
J. A. Anderson
{"title":"Fearing The Black Body: Racial Origins of Fat Phobia","authors":"J. A. Anderson","doi":"10.1080/00064246.2022.2007443","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.1080/00064246.2022.2007443","url":null,"abstract":"beyond the everyday, or, in Raymond and Alice Bauer’s words, “day to day” forms. Holden’s book has rightfully pushed the field to revisit existing archives and known records in search of Black women’s relationships to rebellion and revolt, and to the agentive and resistive geographies that make overt resistance attainable realities within enslaved communities. Future scholarship, inspired by Surviving Southampton, will continue to locate Black women’s insurgency and will be better poised to question whether Gabriel Prosser’s 1800 Rebellion, Charles Deslondes’ 1811 German Coast Uprising, Denmark Vesey’s 1822 plot, and scores of lesser known conspiracies and rebellions were in fact the exclusive workings of these famous men and their male lieutenants.","PeriodicalId":45369,"journal":{"name":"BLACK SCHOLAR","volume":"52 1","pages":"92 - 95"},"PeriodicalIF":0.4,"publicationDate":"2022-01-02","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"47903077","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":0,"RegionCategory":"","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
BLACK SCHOLARPub Date : 2022-01-02DOI: 10.1080/00064246.2022.2007340
Trent Masiki, Regina Marie Mills
{"title":"Naming Loss","authors":"Trent Masiki, Regina Marie Mills","doi":"10.1080/00064246.2022.2007340","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.1080/00064246.2022.2007340","url":null,"abstract":"I n her novels Halsey Street (2018) and What’s Mine and Yours (2021), author Naima Coster explores the complexities of gentrification, parent–child relationships, and ethnoracial identity formation. A proud New Yorker of Caribbean heritage, Coster was born and raised in Fort Greene, Brooklyn to parents who have roots in the Dominican Republic, Cuba, and Curaçao. Coster earned her MFA in Fiction from Columbia and holds degrees in Creative Writing, English, and African American studies from Fordham and Yale. In this interview with Trent Masiki and Regina Marie Mills, Coster shares her views about the post-soul aesthetic, her MFA experience as a woman of color, and how being Black and Latina informs interiority and loss in her writing.","PeriodicalId":45369,"journal":{"name":"BLACK SCHOLAR","volume":"52 1","pages":"5 - 14"},"PeriodicalIF":0.4,"publicationDate":"2022-01-02","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"42192394","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":0,"RegionCategory":"","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
BLACK SCHOLARPub Date : 2022-01-02DOI: 10.1080/00064246.2022.2007344
M. Steinitz
{"title":"Soulful Sancocho","authors":"M. Steinitz","doi":"10.1080/00064246.2022.2007344","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.1080/00064246.2022.2007344","url":null,"abstract":"“Everything started in Colón, soul music came to Panama via Colón,” said bass player Carlos Brown remembering the late 1960s and early 1970s when he and his band Los Dinámicos Exciters were part of the vanguard of a new musical movement that revolutionized popular music in Panama, conquering national TV shows, radio stations, and dancehalls with a unique fusion of US soul music, Caribbean calypso, and the latest Afro-Latin styles from New York, Puerto Rico, and Cuba. While these musical groups which would become known as combos nacionales drew from diverse Afro-hemispheric sources, the predominant influence of soul icons from the US such as James Brown, The Temptations, and Aretha Franklin manifested itself not only in their music but also in their appropriation of US Black aesthetics which was closely related to a sentiment of solidarity and identification with the Civil Rights and Black Power movements among Black Panamanians. Paralleled in magnitude only by the emergence of Latin Soul in 1960s New York and Brazil’s Black Rio movement in the 1970s, the combos introduced African American-inspired “soul style” in a Latin American context that was built upon white mestizo nationalist imaginaries. As many of the combos’ protagonists were Panamanians of Afro-Caribbean descent they gave unprecedented visibility to a community that had been excluded and discriminated against since the arrival of their ancestors from Jamaica, Barbados, and other Anglo-Caribbean islands most of whom had been recruited as labor migrants for the US-lead construction of the Panama Canal between 1904 and 1914. While soul music has often been celebrated as the ultimate expression of the US Black experience, I suggest that a closer look at the popularization of soul music in a Latin American country such as Panama might help to question one-dimensional nationalist interpretations of the genre. While Black Power anthems like James Brown’s “Say It Loud – I’m Black and I’m Proud” were clearly aimed at closing ranks among African Americans in the US, I argue that soul music in Panama often contributed to building bridges between Panama’s Black Anglophone West Indian minority and the Spanishspeaking native population. It is in this spirit of complicating homogenizing and essentialist narratives of blackness and the prescribed meanings of Black popular culture that I aim to bring the concepts of post-soul and afrolatinidades into a dialogue with each other. In the same vein, it is this essaýs intention to contribute to the bridging of persistent demarcations between African American, Caribbean, and AfroLatin American Studies and further ongoing efforts for the development of a hemispheric perspective on the African diaspora in the Americas as proposed by Ifeoma Nwankwo, Agustín Lao-Montes,","PeriodicalId":45369,"journal":{"name":"BLACK SCHOLAR","volume":"52 1","pages":"15 - 26"},"PeriodicalIF":0.4,"publicationDate":"2022-01-02","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"41951994","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":0,"RegionCategory":"","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
BLACK SCHOLARPub Date : 2022-01-02DOI: 10.1080/00064246.2022.2007345
Regina Marie Mills
{"title":"A Post-Soul Spider-Man","authors":"Regina Marie Mills","doi":"10.1080/00064246.2022.2007345","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.1080/00064246.2022.2007345","url":null,"abstract":"I n a 2016 interview in Vulture, African American crime and science fiction novelist Walter Mosley insisted, “The first Black superhero is Spider-Man.” According to Moseley, Spider-Man’s class position, nontraditional family, and the media’s unfavorable portrayal of his heroics resonate more closely with urban Black experiences than the experiences of a white boy from Queens. In many ways, Moseley argues that a Black Spider-Man could easily slip not only into Spidey’s suit but also the classic, tragic story. In 2011, Spider-Man did become Black. Miles Morales, a Black Puerto Rican teenager in Brooklyn, however, was not merely a re-skin of Peter Parker’s Spider-Man and his origin story. Building upon Adilifu Nama’s work in Super Black, I argue that Miles Morales as SpiderMan is “a racially remixed superhero” who offers readers and video game players “cultural points of interests, compelling themes, and multiple meanings that were not previously present” in the original source material. Racially remixed superheroes “are more chic, politically provocative, and ideologically dynamic than the established white superheroes they were modeled after,” hence, they tend to tackle political subject matter more overtly. In Marvel’s SpiderMan: Miles Morales, remixing Spider-Man means reinterpreting the iconic phrase “With great power comes great responsibility” to move from the individualist usage that Peter Parker models to a communal one. That is, Miles Morales must grapple with the structures of racism and classism that create his need to be a vigilante in Harlem. Miles riffs on what responsibility for power entails: self-questioning and doubt, yes, but also belonging and investment in a community. Miles Morales’ video game asks, “to whom is Spider-Man responsible and what does responsibility look like?” Spider-Man models the need to respond to the neighborhood that claims him. Since his creation, Miles Morales has elicited strong reaction from fans, detractors, and scholars alike. The establishment of a Spider-Man of Black Puerto Rican heritage camewith the death of Peter Parker in theUltimate universe, an imprint (ended in 2015) separate from the main Marvel universe. The Ultimate universe was not “canon,” so writers could experiment without adhering to the long, convoluted timelines and backstories ofMarvel’s major characters. Rather than keep AmazingSpider-Man’s origin story,Miles hasa story of his own. Across all media, Miles has two parents, though their class position varies. In the Ultimate comics and Jason Reynolds’ young adult novel, Miles’ US Black father, Jefferson (Jeff) Davis, is a former criminal and his light-skinned Puerto Rican mother, Rio Morales, a schoolteacher. They struggle to pay the bills and worry about Miles losing his charter boarding school scholarship. In the movie and video games, his family is middle-class and his father flips from ex-con to cop. In the movie, Rio is a nurse and, in the game, she remains a teacher. His uncle,","PeriodicalId":45369,"journal":{"name":"BLACK SCHOLAR","volume":"52 1","pages":"41 - 52"},"PeriodicalIF":0.4,"publicationDate":"2022-01-02","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"47966863","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":0,"RegionCategory":"","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
BLACK SCHOLARPub Date : 2022-01-02DOI: 10.1080/00064246.2022.2007341
Trent Masiki, Regina Marie Mills
{"title":"Introduction: Bridging African American and Latina/o/x Studies","authors":"Trent Masiki, Regina Marie Mills","doi":"10.1080/00064246.2022.2007341","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.1080/00064246.2022.2007341","url":null,"abstract":"I n his memoir Black Cuban/Black American, Evelio Grillo insists that Afro-Latinos and African Americans are “coconspirators in the struggle to bring the walls of racial injustice and discrimination down.” We, the co-guest editors of this special issue, could not agree more. As emblematized by the Black nationalist organizations to which Arturo A. Schomburg and John Edward Bruce both belonged and cofounded, the social bonds between AfroLatinos and African Americans have existed since the nineteenth century. Mindful of this history as we entered the last five years of the International Decade for People of African Descent, we proposed this special issue to respond to the increasing interest in and need for critical discussions of Afro-Latino and African American interculturalism in the post-segregation era. Motivated by Agustín Laó-Montes’s call for interdisciplinary collaboration between Black studies and Latina/o/x studies and byVeraM.Kutzkinski’s contention that the “authenticating rhetoric” of “Afro-Hispanic American” literary criticism is shaped by the Black Power, Black Arts, and Négritude movements, we put out a call for papers to investigate the relationship between Afro-Latinidad and the post-soul aesthetic. The term post-soul describes the socioeconomic conditions, cultural changes, and aesthetic sensibilities that characterize Black experiences in the US after the mid-1970s, after soul music lost its mass popularity. The post-soul generation is Black Generation X. Raised on the tenets of civil rights integrationism, the post-soul generation eschews, by and large, essentialist concepts of Black subjectivity, chauvinist notions of Black authenticity, and aesthetic preoccupations with Black political revolution. The post-soul aesthetic values experimentation, cosmopolitanism, multiculturalism, social inclusion, liberal individualism, and ideological freedom. One of the faults of the post-soul aesthetic is its centering of the African American experience as the Black experience, its reluctance to engage with Black ethnic diversity in America and the Western hemisphere. Given that the post-soul condition and the mid-1970s boom in the scholarly study of Afro-Latinidad are coterminous, we think it is high time that the two concepts be put in dialogue with each other. In the spirit of rigorous intellectual exchange, this special issue includes articles that variously accept, reject, and expand the post-soul aesthetic as they engage with Afro-Latinidad. Ranging from New York to Atlanta and from Panama to Brazil, the collection of interviews, scholarly articles, and personal essays in this issue discuss Afro-Latina literary fiction, Latino anti-blackness, Afro-Latina feminist epistemologies, and Latino/African American interculturalism in popular music and video games. Regina Marie Mills and Trent Masiki begin the issue with “Naming Loss: An Interview with Naima Coster.” A proud New Yorker of Caribbean heritage, novelist Naima Coster was born and","PeriodicalId":45369,"journal":{"name":"BLACK SCHOLAR","volume":"52 1","pages":"1 - 4"},"PeriodicalIF":0.4,"publicationDate":"2022-01-02","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"45004371","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":0,"RegionCategory":"","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
BLACK SCHOLARPub Date : 2022-01-02DOI: 10.1080/00064246.2022.2007348
Ayendy Bonifacio
{"title":"Our Patrias Cannot Liberate Us from Anti-Blackness","authors":"Ayendy Bonifacio","doi":"10.1080/00064246.2022.2007348","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.1080/00064246.2022.2007348","url":null,"abstract":"I became a US citizen in the summer of 2013. It was the year before I started graduate school. I was 26 and couldn’t afford the near thousand-dollar application fee for the citizenship application. The charges were waived for me by a program operating from my mother’s Catholic church in Queens. They paid the application fee and assisted me and many other immigrants with the application process. I remember looking over the shoulder of the application officer who filled out my application. She completed most of my information for me, including my name, age, address, marital status, and sex. When she arrived at the race box. She marked “white” without looking at me. I walked out of the church’s office into the hot New York City heat and boarded the Brooklyn-bound J train. My brain rattled with unanswered questions as the train tracked homeward. All I could think about was the race box. I, a clearly non-white, multiracial Dominican man, white? Why did the application officer, a Latinx person with a similar skin tone as mine, see me as white? Why didn’t I call it out? And why did it matter? It wasn’t until I moved away from Brooklyn into a predominantly white space in Ohio for grad school that some of these questions began to click. Latinidad and the myth of mestizaje, I realized, were linked in ways that too often leaned into whiteness, and silence surrounding this linkage can be a form of violence. Fast forward to today’s critical moment of anti-racist protests stemming from the killings of Rayshard Brooks, George Floyd, Breonna Taylor, Ahmaud Arbery, and so many others. It is critical for us in Latinx communities to come to terms with our histories of anti-blackness and Black denial, which is the history of how Latinidad often fails to see and serve us equally. The question of race among us Latinx immigrants is political, cultural, and social. This question is deeply embedded in long histories of colonialism, immigration, mestizaje, blancamiento (whitewashing), and what, in 1903, W. E. B. Du Bois called the US American color line. As Latinx immigrants, our subjectivities, what we call ourselves and how we see each other, intersect with Black–white dichotomies in the US and the colorism and pigmentocracies contrived in our natal countries. We are re-racialized in the diaspora, forced to check a box that we don’t understand, and contribute to the machinery of anti-blackness. The racial hierarchies that emerged from our natal lands are a product of the legacy of colonialism, the institution of slavery, and racist discourses. The truth is that we have inherited a racist and limited discourse to conceptualize our racial complexity. The white box felt like I was leaning into whiteness for self-preservation. Even if I did not check it myself in that Catholic church office in Queens, I did not stop it or didn’t know that I could. The Catholic church, in some ways, was trying to make me white when all I wanted was US citizenship.","PeriodicalId":45369,"journal":{"name":"BLACK SCHOLAR","volume":"52 1","pages":"75 - 85"},"PeriodicalIF":0.4,"publicationDate":"2022-01-02","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"49656478","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":0,"RegionCategory":"","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
BLACK SCHOLARPub Date : 2022-01-02DOI: 10.1080/00064246.2022.2008762
Ariel Martino
{"title":"Being Property Once Myself: Blackness and the End of Man","authors":"Ariel Martino","doi":"10.1080/00064246.2022.2008762","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.1080/00064246.2022.2008762","url":null,"abstract":"analyze any specific sub-cultures or Latin American beauty standards and how they informed European and North American cultures, it does trace the racial origins of fat phobia. Strings answers the questions of why we regard fatness poorly especially in womenofAfricandescent. In her explanation, she details the immorality and savagery connotated into the very flesh of African peoples. Strings’ scholarship is a pillar in the field of sociology and provides an excellent examination of historical and contemporary body studies involving the Black body in adjacency to white supremacy.","PeriodicalId":45369,"journal":{"name":"BLACK SCHOLAR","volume":"52 1","pages":"95 - 98"},"PeriodicalIF":0.4,"publicationDate":"2022-01-02","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"43967681","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":0,"RegionCategory":"","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
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