Life within the veil
Photo by Tim Goedhart on Unsplash
In keeping with my last post, this blog is going to become more projects focused. I have decided to focus on history, statistics, storytelling and data visualisation, which are current interests of mine and / or skills that I would like to learn (and become proficient in). I have also set up an Instagram account. It just so happens that this period of contemplation has coincided with a pandemic, as well as the resurgence of debates around racism and police brutality.
Back when I was thinking about applying for a Master’s programme, I came across the idea that ‘you can’t change what you can’t measure’, which I interpreted in the same vein as ‘seeing is believing’. This resonated with me. Then I stumbled on the TED talks by Hans Rosling and was sold on the idea of studying something quantitative. This was back in April-May 2017. Mr Rosling passed away in February, which made the discovery of his life’s work bittersweet. I have him to thank for my degree.
Does this make me a positivist? Frankly, in the age of ‘alternative facts’, one cannot be too wedded to the ‘truth’ or even the idea that facts maketh reality. Evidently, there are alternative ways of seeing, which can give rise to competing belief systems and realities. A good example to take is the fact that a simple, self-explanatory slogan such as Black Lives Matter, borne out a very particular set of circumstances, could be so misunderstood and controversial. Let’s break it down for a second. African-Americans are disproportionately more likely to die in police custody when compared to other racial groups in the States while in other parts of the world (yes I am looking at you Britain!), there are patterns of heavy-handedness in policing within black communities and even deaths in police custody. The very public killing of George Floyd suggests a certain degree of impunity and imperiousness among factions within the police force that is contributing to Black deaths in custody. Ergo, we can extrapolate that certain attitudes, ways of thinking and behaviours that demonstrate a complete disregard for Black lives have been institutionalised. Consequently, there is need for protest to educate and to advocate on behalf of Black lives. To remind those persons in positions of power and / or with a duty of care (as well as the public at large) that our lives matter too.
I am stuck between giving All Lives Matter the benefit of the doubt and being exasperated by the wilful ignorance of certain members of our society. I have read too many comments that have made me either roll my eyes or want to tear my hair out. I am reminded that this is an uphill battle to win hearts and minds in addition to changing laws and practices. Some of the comments I came across are in the spirit of ‘why can’t we all just get along’ which, if they were really listening and hearing what protesters are saying, they would realise that we are all on the same page. Except what they are really saying without voicing it in so many words is that the type of experiences that have spun the Black Lives Matter movement is contrary to the times we live in. In their view, apart from a few isolated cases (which are explicable by factors other than racism), things are much better for Black people than they were before and the onus is on us to work to bring about the change that we want to see in our circumstances (just like everyone else apparently). If only it were that simple but, alas, no man is an island. I would consider these people as sympathetic to a post-racial view of society. To illustrate my point, take a look at the comment section of a Guardian article on The reality of being black in today’s Britain by David Olusoga (albeit this is an article from 2016). References to how the Chinese and Indians thrive through hard work, talent and determination while making use of the opportunities afforded them by living in a tolerant and progressive society are tantamount to disregarding and ‘gaslighting’ the Black British experience under a supposedly universalistic bandwagon.
On the other hand, the more virulent contrarians, who are largely in the minority, pick and choose ‘facts’ that support their assessment of the Black psyche. They are the kind of people who would say that police brutality is a non-issue when compared to black-on-black crime. They rely on simplistic explanations based on a priori assumptions they have about Black people. According to this view, Black people are the architects of their own degradation and should take responsibility for their problems. They would emphasise a supposedly regressive nature and culture that is anti-intellectual, anti-marriage and violent as root determinants of the Black experience (see the comments section of the previous article for examples of what I am talking about). In contrast, the post-racialists are more likely to believe in remediation through changing Black consciousness, especially the perceived tendencies toward victimhood narratives. In their perspective, Black people can unlearn their regressive tendencies through acceptance of the metanarratives of equality, unity, prosperity and the pursuit of happiness. As it is written in the American constitution (that great bastion of democracy and civilisation), it must be true.
What do you say to people who straddle either side of the fence?
In a 2006 TED talk, Mr Rosling argued that “the improvement of the world must be highly contextualised”. Likewise, this interesting article by Ivory A. Toldson highlights the dangers of taking statistics at face value while discounting the contexts that produce them. I interpret this to mean that we should avoid making sweeping generalisations, which can happen when we are comparing apples and oranges. What’s more, there is always another side to the story in the same way that one man’s freedom fighter is another man’s terrorist.
I have gone through a whirlwind of emotions in the past weeks – primarily anger although disillusionment was the more long-lasting feeling that eventually gave way to a period of introspection (still ongoing). And just like a stream, ideas have flowed in and out of my consciousness. To stop my ideas from clogging up into an unfathomable and shapeless mass, I decided to read and write. I have often heard that Hollywood is a way for the United States to project soft power around the world, which got me thinking about the importance of cultural capital. Almost unbidden, I thought about the history of Black political thought and the legacy of black intellectuals. Thus, I had to confront my ignorance.
Once upon a time, I was on a bus with an old friend and the subject of writing came up. I mentioned that I was interested in writing and had written several stories since I was in secondary school. Somehow the conversation moved on to other Black authors and writing in general. I remember saying to her and being quite adamant that I want to develop an “authentic voice” so I wasn’t going to prioritise books by people who look like me and /or might have the same ideas as I do just for the sake of it. I realise now that my attitude could be construed as snobbish and misguided. It’s not that I shunned books by Black authors – far from it. Rather I had no intent beyond reading for the sake of being exposed to as many ideas as possible (which I assumed would develop my own thinking).
Many summers ago, I decided to go on a journey to become a more well-rounded thinker. Initially, I had set myself the challenge of reading all Man Booker prize winning books and / or some book list based on another prestigious award. I also tried reading the ‘classics’ but never got very far because some of the books did not resonate the way that I thought they would. Or maybe their brilliance was lost on me. I realise now that my earlier penchant for the so-called ‘canonical’ texts stemmed from my educational background when I was taught to revere works by Shakespeare, Austin, Dickens, Rousseau, Kant, Marx, and the list goes. I can’t say I despise any of these authors nor that I haven’t benefitted from the ideas I was exposed to. Yet, I can’t shake off the feeling that my mind was made up for me by the curriculum, the school(s) I went to, and the teachers that taught me. C’est la vie! Nevertheless, at some point, one must develop one’s own mind.
As an experiment, I suggest you type into Google ‘canonical texts’ and see what you get. Statista published the earnings of the wealthiest authors worldwide in 2018 and, unsurprisingly, all 11 authors were white with a combined annual income of $283 million. As far as diversity is concerned, J.K. Rowling, Danielle Steel and E.L. James were among the highest earners. There is no point in decrying the successes of these authors because, in this case, it is a popularity contest. They are popular and their books sell. On the other hand, there is a growing recognition that publishing should become more diverse and inclusive as publishers are amongst the vanguard that determine whose voices are heard and celebrated, which has led to efforts to measure progress or lack thereof through statistics (see Lee and Low).
Once again, our choices are being made for us even before we go into a Waterstones (or another bookstore or online) to peruse their shelves and make a purchase. If it’s any consolation, we are still exercising a choice when we pick up a book to read although the capacity to make such a choice is not evenly distributed. According to research by the National Literary Trust in the UK, one in eleven children and young people from disadvantaged backgrounds are less likely to own their own book. Yet, on average, only 52.3% of children and young people surveyed between 2005 and 2016 said that they enjoyed reading either very much or quite a lot. Among the 2016 cohort, Asian children (64.8%) were most likely to enjoy reading either very much or quite a lot while Black children (59.5%) were least likely to feel the same way. However, given the socioeconomic factors alluded to before, the line between access and preference is blurred.
Last year, I came across Why are South African children struggling to read properly? an article about the educational experiences of Black (my emphasis!) South Africans who were being made to study and sit exams on texts that were not in their native tongues because of the dearth in publishing in African languages. According to the author, this was one of the main reasons for the disparity in educational outcomes.
There are strong winds of change with calls to decolonise the curriculum in the UK, the growing popularity of self-publishing, and similar movements (see Lee and Low) to counter the metanarratives and one-sidedness in how we report on history, what literature we value, which ideas are embraced, etc. In my own albeit small way, I am trying to decolonise my mind. The latest BLM protests have made me realise that every little helps (apparently Tesco had the right idea all along). I would also add that a drop of water makes a mighty ocean. More importantly, as Fannie Lou Hamer aptly noted, I am sick tired of being sick and tired. To labour on this point one last time (I promise!), the pen is mightier than the sword and, as always, the best weapons I have in my arsenal are reading and writing.
That brings me to what started this post in the first place. I am reading works of non-fiction by Black authors and sharing my thoughts on them as I go along. There is no chronology, I am simply going where the wind takes me (a la Sheldon). I kid you not! It’s a matter of accessibility, as well as trying to find common threads between the texts that I read (however tenuous). I am also trusting the authors to lead me to my next book.
Three years prior, Du Bois and a team at Atlanta University had presented at the 1900 World Exhibition in Paris some documentary evidence, photographs and compelling infographics about the progress of Black people in America since the 13th Amendment of January 1865. His infographics have been described as ‘visionary’ (see Smithsonian Mag), as well as ‘staggering’ and ‘powerful’ albeit unsung (see Medium). The collection from the exhibition is available digitally via the Library of Congress website. I have attempted a mock-up of one of his graphs in Excel. Essentially, Du Bois and his team created a stacked bar chart even before it was a thing. Visually, my version is a pale imitation of the original – the bulky black mound in the original gives me the impression of a gigantic ship’s hull, which is quite emblematic of slavery.
I found that there is a haunting quality to Souls because some (if not all) of his commentary are relevant to issues that we are still grappling with. Perhaps shaped by his rather demoralising experience in the aftermath of the Paris exhibition, and understandably so, there is a tinge of pessimism in the text despite his faith in the power of higher education as a panacea against social ills, which culminates in a rather striking homage to his dead son. Superficially, I also owe Du Bois a debt of gratitude for the title of my Instagram page, which came from Souls.
I am sure I will encounter Du Bois again as he had a long and prolific life before his death on 27 August 1963, on the eve of the March on Washington. Speaking of Washington, the next author on my list is Booker T. Washington. I knew about the schism between Du Bois and Washington before I picked up Souls, and the book also addresses the differences in their approaches. Based on what little I have read from Washington so far; the divide is less a gulf and more a stream. They are products of their time and the environments that they grew up in. For example, I have found some of Du Bois’ ideas to be classist (Talented Tenth) and a little sexist. For example, there are 191 references to men compared to just 27 references to women, and the Negro (I am using this term in its historical context) consciousness was decidedly masculine. While I cannot ignore the unpleasant aspects of some of the ideas I will come across, it is important to place the texts and the authors’ intent in their rightful contexts. With this in mind, I present Du Bois in his own words (although I chose the order that the quotes appear in).
The Souls of Black Folk 1903 by Asiatu Kamara
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