Issue 78, February 2015
BROAD A Feminist & Social Justice Magazine
LIVING IN COLOR
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Cover Art: Stuart Immomen
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BROAD 2014-15 ISSUES September
#feminism October part 1
What’s Your LGBT-IQ? October part 2
In g/God(s) We Trust November
Sentence: Criminal? December
BROAD Love January part 1
c(age)s January part 2
Dis(sed)-abilities February
Living In Color March issue
Body Talk April
O the Places You’ll Go
In Labor
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May
adjective: 1 having an ample distance from side to side; wide | 2 covering a large number and wide scope of subjects or areas: a broad range of experience | 3 having or incorporating a wide range of meanings | 4 including or coming from many people of many kinds | 5 general without detail | 6 (of a regional accent) very noticeable and strong | 7 full, complete, clear, bright; she was attacked in broad daylight noun: (informal) woman. slang: a promiscuous woman phrases: broad in the beam: with wide hips or large buttocks | in broad daylight: during the day, when it is light, and surprising for this reason | have broad shoulders: ability to cope with unpleasant responsibilities or to accept criticism | City of broad shoulders: Chicago synonyms: see: wide, extensive, ample, vast, liberal, open, all-embracing antonyms: see: narrow, constricted, limited, subtle, slight, closed see also: broadside (n.) historical: a common form of printed material, especially for poetry
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Living in Color quotes:
“Pride and roots is what it is. It definitely does not mean separation or nationalism or that we want to go back to Mexico.” ~Dolores Huerta “I wish you had the privilege to be a little more sheltered, where the only thing you had to be afraid of was your own shadow. But as a child, and eventually a woman of color, you will have to brave the world with a little more armor.” ~Karla Estela Rivera
a Levigne
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MISSION:
Mario Mason
Publicity & Social Media Coordinator
WSGS:
Broad’s mission is to connect the WSGS program with communities of students, faculty, and staff at Loyola and beyond, continuing and extending the program’s mission. We provide space and support for a variety of voices while bridging communities of scholars, artists, and activists. Our editorial mission is to provoke thought and debate in an open forum characterized by respect and civility. Founded in 1979, Loyola’s Women’s Studies Program is the first women’s studies program at a Jesuit institution and has served as a model for women’s studies programs at other Jesuit and Catholic universities. Our mission is to introduce students to feminist scholarship across the disciplines and the professional schools; to provide innovative, challenging, and thoughtful approaches to learning; and to promote social justice.
Gaby Ortiz Flores Consulting Editor
Maggie Sullivan Publicity & Social Media Coordinator
Elishah Virani
Diversity & Assessment Editor
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OAD
Living in Color:
Living in Color is the first themed issue of BROAD to celebrate its fifth anniversary and to be published every year since its inception. Join us as we visit the topics of race, ethnicity, and color as they intersect with power, resources, and other experiences in one of BROAD’s most popular annual issues.
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It’s Not All Black & White Kristina Johnson Strength in Beauty S&C Design Studios Colorful Wisdom Dara Barth Golden Goddess Maria Barry Big Hair, Don’t Care Amira Rahim, amirarahim.com Mr. Cano & Irie Brandy Kayzakian-Rowe Modesty Eman Alkotob, EmanEffects Henna Tony Rubino Multicultural Hands Meah Tweh
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awareness of your skin color stereotyped because of race
broadside
Wild is Wind Julian Marshall Boxes Julian Marshall The Misogyny of Hip-Hop Julian Marshall Old Man Checkers Kait Madsen at age 17
Black Baby
Janay Moore Janay Moore
Our Whiteness
living in color
stranger solidarity POC Mental Illness
Dior Vargas
Angry
Who Will Survive in West Taught Me S
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What M
Alice Walker Audre Lorde
Living wi
(not) buying it Dove PopChips SalesGenie Texican Whopper Vogue
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Brown Girl Hiding Sikh Captain America To Miss Cyrus
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The World Before Her Dark Girls
artic It’s Complicated Monica Stevens-Kirby Black Women Making History Wanye Kest Growing Up as a Black Man in a Small Town in Iowa Brady Wells
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on In(Justice) Can’t Be Invisible
Kait Madsen
In the k(Now)
Are you, like, Russian?’: The Magical and Maddening World of Being Mixed Sylvia Bennett
Atheist
Status Quo Combustion
America: How Kanye Self-Care Gaby Ortiz Flores
50 Shades of Brown Lubna Baig
Meets the Eye
ith Color Marissa Levigne
Sanity Optional
White Girl Learns About Black Hair Peach Stephan
&
The Anthropology of Race Abigail Diazy
microaggresSHUNS
An Open Letter to my fellow privileged
race, color, ethnicity
black Americans Janay Moore
Liberation Leaders Chrystos Jessice Gonzalez-Rojas
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cles
Letter from BROAD State of the Magazine, January 2015 Mario Mason, Publicity & Social Media Coordinator
Living in Color Dear BROAD Readers, The biggest mistake people make when they talk about immigration is to look purely at statistics. Statistics do not paint a proper picture of immigration. People and their experiences do. This country was built on migrants from all over the world since its inception, you’d think the process would be easier and a lot smoother but this is seldom true. The challenges many immigrants face today are the same challenged faced by migrants decades ago. I moved to Chicago (Rogers Park) from Kingston, Jamaica on April 20th, 2006. I am coming up on my 9-year anniversary in this country! That’s crazy to think about. My family and I have come a long way since then. I came when I was in the sixth grade and my only belongings at the time were a sleeping bag and a flashlight. My family of five shared a one-bedroom apartment where the lights went out at 10pm and the only things we had to entertain us were books from the public library. Whenever the lights went out I would always still have tons of homework to complete and more paragraphs to read. I would just bring out my flashlight and go into the stairwell of our apartment building and spend an hour there, or two. I did this because I
had to meet my mum and help her carry things up the stairs once she came off a 16 hour shift at work, she would get home around midnight. A couple years later and here we are now. We have had our ups and downs but we persevered. Through strong work ethic I am able to say that my family and I are in a great place right now. Not only am I putting myself through college, my mum just purchased her first home and second car and just graduated from her nursing program. Throughout all this change the one thing that has remained the same is how society views me. Prior to becoming American I had no idea I was black. Prior to being in America I was never followed in a store, had my hair touched because it was “interesting”, or told to get over slavery. This is the experience of millions of other black Americans. I am tired of being tired. Tired from having to work harder, faster, longer, and better than my white counterpart for the same things. Throughout the years there has been a change in the way I view my skin color. Until recently I wanted more tan anything to be someone other than who I am. I’ve gained opportunities and I have also lost opportunities due to the color of my skin. As you will learn from this issue this experience is not exclusive to just
This is the experience of millions of other black Americans. I am tired of being tired. Tired from having to work harder, faster, longer, and better than my white counterpart for the same things. I am excited for you all to experience the greatness that is “Living in Color.� So readers, I encourage you to delve deep into the pieces written here. Make the experience of these pages your experience. I challenge you to look at things in a way that you have not done before.
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me. There are numerous experiences out there that people of color experience. By putting together the works of many different people we aim to make these experiences known to all our readers. From having a stronger work ethic to being accused of being in a position because of affirmative action, these are the every day experiences of many people.
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(not) buying it busted advertising, bustling economy Vogue’s LeBron James Cover
NOT BUYING IT!
Consider: This 2008 Vogue Magazine cover was called out for perpetuating racial stereotypes in its depiction of LeBron James. Some likened it to a print ad for the 1933 King Kong film (left). James’s open scowl, head-to-toe black clothing, body positioning, and grip on Gisele Bundchen certainly resemble the print ad. Even if that wasn’t the intention, some argue that the cover plays into stereotypes about “dangerous” Black men and the criminalization of Black men. This was the first time an African American male was on the cover of Vogue, a magazine known for trying to be provocative. 1. Are you buying this ad? 2. Do you think the resemblance to King Kong is coincidence, or deliberate provocation? 3. What is the cultural impact of depicting African American males in this way? 4. Is this racist, or is it progress for a Black man to be on the cover of Vogue?
words are useless
Mr. Cano
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sometimes words aren’t enough Brandy Kayzakian-Rowe
words are useless sometimes words aren’t enough S&C Design Studios
Strength in Beauty http://www.scgrahamfoto.com/
(not) buying it busted advertising, bustling economy SalesGenie Superbowl Ad
Consider: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7YOZeK7vzwo SalesGenie provides business and consumer lead generation and marketing tools for businesses. This commercial promotes negative stereotypes about Asian Americans, especially Asian American business owners. 1. Are you buying this commercial? 2. What’s problematic about it?
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NOT BUYING IT!
Living in Color BROAD Voice, BROAD Communities Monica Stevens-Kirby
It's Complicated People say “it’s complicated” is an unacceptable answer, and that those of us who use it seek justification of unethical behaviors and unjust choices. I grew up and still live in the Deep South, where phrases like this hold their weight for good and for evil. Southern women pride themselves on tender skin, soft as fuzz and dewy as the nectar of a summer peach. We are tended by the soil of leaden humidity, running into deep vertical roots, reservoirs nurtured by slavery. Charm is our alibi, soft and lilting in dialects that tickle your eardrums, sugar-drip off our soft, lemony tongues and slip over your hearts in tart tastes, cubes of clear, cool ice, tea stained on your soul. We bless your hearts since we are generous that way. Big urban cities of the Northeast and Midwest come right out with a hearty “fuck you!” In the South, we twirl our words up in petticoats and cinch our demons into corsets crafted by mammies in plain cloth. In the South I know, segregation still exists. In the heart of my South, our South, black people and white people are often desegregated only by law. Even after Martin Luther King Jr., Ruby Bridges, Rosa Parks and Barrack Obama, I walk into places all over my small, genteel town and overhear conversations consumed with racial slurs and denigrating jokes that highlight stereotypes older than black face and Buckwheat’s “O’tay.”
This usually happens within earshot of black laborers, who dish out the plates and collect the water glasses and white linens. Southerners speak in bright tones to black laborers. We often over speak our kindnesses and leave an extra dollar for good service by a “clean and articulate” young black woman or man. A “clean and articulate” black person surprises us so much that we remind ourselves, out loud, lest the dust of old ghosts decides to settle on our polished complexions, bone china white and coded with genetic hate. About a block from my house, there were two churches, side by side. Both were Christian and, if I remember correctly, of the same denomination. Their names were differentiated by slight rearrangements of holy words like “church” and “God.” I drove past them every day on my way to the public high school I attended. The space separating these two buildings was more of a tiny alley. Bricks of the same color, probably composed of the same clay, were packed into two small buildings, almost identical in appearance yet marked by an invisible border. White people poured out on one side, and black people poured out of the other side after services, just in time for country buffets and heady afternoon naps. Plotted on an acre of land but unable to share that sacred space, we lived under the same sky and walked over the same red clay. Where I lived, love was divided and staked out into “yours” and “mine.”
I remember visiting my great grandmother in an eye-blink of a town in rural Georgia. The white-coated wood and glittery stones were pruned amidst lavish azaleas and bitter blue hydrangea blossoms. There was an old red, one-room schoolhouse in the backyard, like the one you see in landscape paintings of the South. I sat with my cousins at the long kitchen table and ate chicken my great grandmother fried in her cast iron skillet. She personally rang the chicken’s neck and dismantled it onto our plates with biscuits for supper. We told ghost stories and huddled under delicate bedspreads artfully needled and displayed on frames and posts of cherry wood. We heard the country silence and stayed up late talking in whispers. The whole house shook when the train went by in the middle of the night. Somebody would get up and pull the string on the one, bare
We all sleep under the same stars, and we are formed from the same earth. These are our stars. We share them. I want a piece of sky, like you. I want to pull a corner of it down and wrap myself in its cover to protect what I know and to justify my fear. light bulb in the middle of the ceiling to make sure no one had fallen to the floor from the high beds. I listened to my great grandmother address the “colored” people, who tended her acreage. Sometimes they were scolded, as were we, and at other times, I saw them being handed extra biscuits and fatter wads of money, as we were. They walked to their homes, only a few miles away. We never went that way. No one told us not to. We just never did. The way of the Old South depended on the give and take of white landowners and the African-Americans they owned. The sentiments of my above memories are roses in my family mythos. I got handed these stories, thorns precariously removed, and they rest, twinkling in my hippocampus and safely kindling there. The romanticism of Katie Scarlett O’Hara and the slaves who served her family is based in tiny seeds of truth. Those seeds were literally planted by slaves and figuratively made breathtaking by cinematographers, who bathed the plain, dead Southern air with gold and copper Technicolor and dressed it in hazy clothing to create a soft and pretty picture. What we know about slavery in the South is far more gritty, grainy
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We are resourceful to protect our fear.
Of our own creation, we draw deeper lines and seal off in gated country clubs with perfectly poised blades of grass on golf course greens. Shaded in walls of trees and hedges, within five miles, are registered sex offenders, neglected public housing properties and brutal killings hatching over gang territories. and grim. In my era of the South, the 1990s, white people in my hometown became suddenly attuned to increasing gang activity around their gated neighborhoods. In the infancy of the Internet, we had email and rumors circulate through our wireless waves: White people were to turn their headlights on all day on the upcoming Friday or we would find ourselves victims of gang rapes and killings. Small-town Georgia went nuts, buying this hype like we buy milk, bread and batteries at the slightest chance of snow flurries. We sacrifice ourselves to our own voodoo. Like flags on poles, we wave our causes around, and we get stuck in the crosshairs of the punctures we make, pins in muslin doll-cloth. Defeated by self-inflicted wounds, we make announcements and fly our flags at half-mast, martyrs by our own hands. I step in and out of worlds in my small town. White people here send their children to private schools. Beyond the usual parochial and prep schools that churn out scholar-athletes for rugby fields and lacrosse uniforms, there are specially constructed private schools here. They were and are formed under the guise of better education, often attached to religion but hiding in plain sight. White kids get to play sports against other white kids in our private schools. Otherwise, white kids here stand no chance against the black-dominated sports programs in our public school system. And white kids here get to be protected from gangs,
crime, cursing, sex before marriage, having their iPhones stolen and getting raped, so I am told. This is the stuff white people in my town cling to. It is the fear that is loud and hidden at the same time. It is real. It is out there. It will get you. If you come here to stay, people will tell you. It isn’t denied, but, rather, embraced. Even well-meaning (I think), educated white people with hearts for service and justice will regale you with stories of how they refuse to send their kids to school with “thugs.” I launch into reactive arguing and self-righteous judging quicker than most anyone I can think of. I get into it with people on Facebook. I convince myself that it doesn’t matter, and then I get real convicted that it does. I weave over and across these lines almost every day: in my work, in my life, in my choices, in my inevitabilities. I wish I could say that there is a more definable middle-class where I live. I wish I could attest that white families and black families coexist in larger circles than the more realistic small pockets here and there. I cannot, though. For the most part, we are a city of “haves” and “have nots,” and as we lose industries and jobs to the Great Recession, there are greater incidences of white flight to smaller and more rural areas surrounding us. The divide gets more divisible, and we segregate more definitively.
Of our own creation, we draw deeper lines and seal off in gated country clubs with perfectly poised blades of grass on golf course greens. Shaded in walls of trees and hedges, within five miles, are registered sex offenders, neglected public housing properties and brutal killings hatching over gang territories.
from the same earth. These are our stars. We share them. I want a piece of sky, like you. I want to pull a corner of it down and wrap myself in its cover to protect what I know and to justify my fear.
Riding on the main road by my house, I am wrapped in golden light haloed above old Magnolias. Wisteria vines and kudzu cross overhead and twist in lush formations. Pastoral grounds, dotted with far-off stables, are locked and bound by fresh coats of paint that I can almost smell through my car windows.
It is just skin, yours and mine. Soak it in, drink it up. Inhabit it and dance around in those bones, where the marrow is. At the root, we share the same colors.
Only a mile or two down the road, I see chain-link fences, rusty and folding, unleashed scrappy dogs and roaming concrete, where old sofas and trash are piled on the sidewalk next to boarded-up houses. Piles of young men on opposite corners wear red or blue and study each other like Sharks and Jets.
It’s complicated to overcome. It is also simple.
Monica Stevens-Kirby is a licensed marriage and family therapist, writer and artist. Monica is a self-endorsed misfit who is learning to speak with greater peace and less anger when confronted with a world that likes to forget about people it considers voiceless.
There is an old man, too. He is bones held together by leather skin. He talks to himself and shouts at passing cars. He trolls the streets in skirts. He has a couple of teeth, and he paces all day in a knitted stocking cap, even in our oppressive summers. I go on errands with my daughter, and the number of times I watch drug deals is so high I don’t even notice them anymore. Green baggies and white powder pass through hands with fists and cash. People tell me to be more cautious, but I am not good at following directions, and even if I were, I am too stubborn and too committed to my causes. I am not proud, really. It isn’t my pride. I have been afraid before, but when I give myself over to fear, I contribute to the problem. I have limits, and I am aware of danger. I also know how to protect myself, and I know when, too.
This is our “New South.” This is our reality. Fear lingers in the mist of our morning sunrises and shrouds itself in the sunsets of our twilight. We share this sky and this land. We all sleep under the same stars, and we are formed
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My daughter is two. I am sure she notices things she doesn’t have the words for right now. I’m sure I will hear about all of this later, but I refuse to model fear as a catch-all reaction. Fear is a socially acceptable response when we don’t understand, or don’t want to. I am not okay with that. As time goes by, I get more and more not okay with that.
words are useless sometimes words aren’t enough Amira Rahim
Big Hair, Don't Care www.amirarahim.com
message me we asked. you answered. BROAD people
February 2015
As a black woman, people sometimes overreact when I show that I’m upset when in reality, it’s the same as anyone would act. But it’s the fucking “angry black woman” stereotype that somehow sticks, even though white women tend to be much more touchy. Sorry.
I’ve been told my Italian accent makes me a pasta snob...I guess it’s true though.
BROAD Info + Editors
How have you been stereotyped because of your race?
Mexicans are not dirty.
I know I have the upper hand because I’m an upper-middleclass white male but at the same time that doesn’t mean I’m an asshole.
BROAD
BROAD Info + Editors
I know it’s not a serious struggle but having blonde hair, dressing with current trends and treating myself to Starbucks every now and then somehow makes me a “basic white girl.”
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People assume I’m smart because I’m Asian.
What meets the eye misunderstood, misinterpreted young female Marissa Levigne
Living with color What does a basic white girl have to say about living in color? Quite obviously, I cannot speak about my life living in color, but I can speak about living in a society surrounded by so many colors, races and ethnicities. You may have noticed I am new to BROAD, so to brief you, the basis of my column is to uncover the typical judgments and assumptions people make about me just from my appearance or how others may perceive me upfront. The point I want to get across is that there is so much more to me, and to many other people, than what meets the eye. Often we keep a lot to ourselves and have a hard time expressing how we really feel or what we believe. People are like an illusion, you cannot truly interpret them unless you look closely or get to know them. That being sad, I know most people would look at me and think to themselves, “what does she know about living in color?” It’s true I do not know what it is like to live in color, but I do know what it is like living with color. I would like to share some of my personal experiences from living in a world of many
colors, and then maybe you’ll reconsider judging someone based on their appearance or background. Growing up in a small town outside of Chicago, in a predominantly white community, voted number one place to raise your children; yes, I agree it may seem like I was never exposed to any other cultures or races. But, I have and my life has been somewhat shaped by the exposure to these people and their lifestyles. It began at a young age. As many of you can relate, back in the early 2000s, all of the neighborhood kids went from door to door seeing who wanted to come out and play. Up until I was in fifth grade, all of my neighborhood friends were white. Then a family moved in that was not like the rest of us. They were an Arabian family from Jordan, with four kids and two of them were my age. Right away we started to notice cultural differences while hanging out with them. On a hot summer day they couldn’t come swimming with us because they weren’t allowed to
show skin. If one of the neighborhood moms made ham sandwiches for us, they would tell us they couldn’t eat pork because it was against their religion and would go home for lunch. This family kept their Arabic values but also tried to conform to American society. On Christmas, they did not celebrate, but all of the neighbors would receive a small gift from them with a card that said, “Merry Christmas, from the Allan’s.” The more we hung out with them, the closer we became. I began to learn more about their culture and they would learn more about our culture. We showed each other our music interests and celebrity icons, and would even work on homework together. Sometimes they would even teach us little phrases or words in Arabic and before we knew it, we had developed one of the greatest friendships I have ever had. We lived our lives next to each other all through middle school and high school. But then, one of the daughters began going through an arranged marriage. I didn’t understand it at the time. She was so young; 18 years old and no one had seen her with a boyfriend, so you could imagine our confusion when our parents said we would be attending a wedding for her.
Living in the same environment and doing everyday activities with the Allan’s was so life changing for me. Ever since 9/11 I had been hearing countless stereotypical judgments about the Arabian community. When they first moved into the neighborhood, there was a bit of an awkward vibe. It was change. None of the neighborhood kids were used to playing with non-white kids. We were comfortable in our group where everyone looked the same and had the same values and cultural beliefs. I am extremely grateful to have gotten the opportunity to become so close with another race. It has taught me that just because someone is different from you, it doesn’t mean they don’t have amazing experiences to share with you
and a completely different yet interesting outlook on life. It has taught me to become more open to the idea of change, and not to be stuck in the Anglo-Saxon lifestyle. So now when you see me, and you think that I have no idea how non-whites live, think again. This is just one example of my experiences with another race. Chicago is one big melting pot and I am exposed to blacks, whites, Hispanics, Asians, Indians and anything else you can think of. I am no longer seeing our world as a white dominated society. I consider all of the different races’ struggles, discriminations and cultures as they adapt to American society. And I have the Allan’s to thank for opening my eyes to how a race other than Caucasians live.
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It almost made me sad to watch. I had known this girl for almost eight years and she had never mentioned anything about her future arranged marriage. I couldn’t tell whether she was happy or sad. The idea of your parents picking the person you are going to spend the rest of your life with is scary. I remember thinking how powerless and controlled she must feel. However, at the wedding she seemed like any other bride. She was happy and dancing and full of life. After she was married and had her first child, it was like we lost our old friendship. She seemed like an adult to me now, and I was just a young graduating senior ready to experience college.
screen/play film review, justice take The World Before Her
Release: 2012
Director:
Nisha Pahuja
Genre:
Documentary
Where to Find:
Netflix, Hulu Plus, Google Play, Amazon, Vimeo
Overview:
This film juxtaposes the “beauty boot camp” undergone by contestants of the Miss India pageant with the training camp of Durga Vahini, a Hindu nationalists group of exclusively women. The young participants of both groups are taught a variety of skills and lessons on how to be the best “woman,” in the sense of each respective camp. Miss India represents the “modern Indian woman”: intelligent, eloquent, elegant and ready to be a role model for the 1.2 billion population and the face of India on the global scene. For contestants, the opportunity to gain wealth and fame is second to the ability to control their fates and gain autonomy over their lives in opposition to restrictive “traditions” of Indian culture. At Durga Vahini, participants are also taught strength and discipline, through the lens of Hindu traditions and a strong aversion to “corrupting” Western traditions that objectify women. The ideal member of Durga Vahini is physically and mentally strong, rooted in her traditions and an active participant in creating a better India. Similar goals, albeit with very different perspectives on how to achieve those ends.
BROAD thumbs up?
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The complications with universalist theories like Feminism (emphasis on singular) is that they often miss all of the different cultural factors that shape specific contexts. In doing so, they become very difficult, if not impossible, to apply. At worst, they further perpetuate notions of cultural biases that exacerbate global inequalities. The World Before Her exemplifies these complications, as it presents two perspectives, both feminist in nature yet still nearly opposing. Finding solutions to address the issues of inequality is a process that must involve continually questioning and criticizing even established doctrine. As evidenced by the film, those questions raised are far from simple to answer.
QUOTE CORNER
tell-a-vision
MADADS
visions & revisions of our culture(s) Brown Girl by Yesika Salgado
TELL-AVISION
SCREEN/ PLAY
TELL-AVISION
BOOKMA RK HERE
QUOTE C ORNER
BROAD FACULTY FEED
BROAD RECAP
LIBERATIO N LEADERS
WLA REANIMA TED
CAREER CALL
VOLUNTEE R VOICES
This poem is Yesika Salgado’s personal story of identity, family, heritage, and belonging.
Consider:
BROADSID
E
VISITING EDITOR
1. What is Salgado’s experience as a “brown girl?” ICRO 2. How does her Latina identity shape her experience in theMUnited States? AGRES 3. What role does family play in her life? ADVA SHU NS
NCE
Link:
youtube.com/watch?v=jC7flQUggS8
BROAD
MESSAGE
ME
WE’VE GO T MAIL
Why
microaggreSHUNS it’s the little things that count BROAD People
asian tiger mom | reverse racism
What are you? | Can I touch your hair? | You don’t act like __
#alllivesmattere Where are you from? No, like actually from? No need to get all thug | China doll l Can you read this for me?
You’re from the South Side, right? | single black mother | thick white girl
You’re pretty for a black girl | You sound white
Illegals | No way, you’re not actually black. You’re Asian, you must be good at math | What kind of -nese are you?
You don’t speak spanish? I Why is [familly member] so white?! Of course you’re good at basketball, you’re black. | Can you see normally?
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white girl problemse
broadside poetry in street lit style Julian Marshall
n y g o s i the m aker? s become her money m as ’s an m wo a d di en ker. Since wh Shake it like a saltsha hter than me. His flows were tig na s hi w ne k oc bl s hi on No more than people
black g false mirage for young is th up p kee aj in M ki hard pres Little Kim and Nik ass diamonds not the p ea ch h ug ro th is ve . For them we can prove his lo t called by their names go d an e m ga e th up spiced
his legs o wer and lower around lo d an r we lo s nt pa s hi truly appe As the beat drop so do as if they know how to g in Act r. he e as te d an the hype, hell they r in up Allowing them to touch ht ug ca e ar ys - but the bo
Hi s walking the streets. ie od ho in ys bo k ac bl th es of young e actions of the others th Swiped away are the liv e iv rg fo r no e iv rg fo seme ity will not on a machine in the ba but the other commun e ad m e on ot N . at be Now y on a new ng into their fantasies. on the street and walk ci an pr d an g in nc da her from and hoe the beat drop you stop calling women bitches to d ite lim er ng lo no talents are
at no chauvinistic bastard. Th a is p ho phi at th ow her n I’m here to let you kn booty bitch is called by g bi a ich wh in a er w eams br same. Move into the ne name because your dr ur yo ow kn rld wo e th over
p o h p i h ny of of fame. is just feeling the itch he t ye tch bi l tifu au be r as his Hip-hop has claimed he hop. to the misogyny of hipin ed ck lo s wa he t Bu a pad lock.
y tural curls. The only wa na ur yo ar we to l tifu t beau they girls. It says no, it’s no like Salt and Peppa as sist ul so e th to ed ppen p-hop. ssed pearl. But what ha at’s the misogyny of hi th t Bu e. m ga a t no r m it was a caree
her skills. or is where she shows flo e Th . or flo e th to one step closer if they are her toys as ys bo e es th er ov ks d brea ease her she bends an ey decided to swipe. ran out of money so th
all the a pen and brands then to in em th es sh pu st ju ildren - it in which people all ne O . tch di a o longer fathers its ch to in ns so others don’t put their of hip-hop. name. One in which m ht up in the misogyny ug ca t n’ re we d An e. rought you fam
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e; It’s not the life you liv t. ree st e th of im ct vi e black boy a decided to leave the lif ve ip-hop has made every ha u yo u yo e lik Now as they don’t act the house of hip-hop. hat look like you. But in d pe ap tr u yo e ar e your No longer oney maker. One wher ent of the trap house. m is d in m r he e er wh y - one ow. you live in a new fantas the young shouldn’t kn at th gs in th on ng ki es and only spea
In the (k)now Knowledge is power. Power is change. Change is good. Sylvia Bennett
“ " Are you, like, Russian?": The Magical and Maddening World of Being Mixed The question hung awkwardly in the air. Here it was, yet again, the issue of my looks not falling complacently into one of western society’s neat categories of race. “Uh, no, I’m not.” “Oh, what are you?” I should start a bingo board or something. I’m always torn when answering this question. A part of me, quite a vocal part, wants to sigh dramatically and reluctantly come forward and say, “Damn, I thought no one would ever question this face, but you friggen genius-you figured it out. I’m a Time Lord. But don’t tell anyone! I’ve got the Tardis double-parked.” I’ve yet to shred someone’s face with a snarky response, as I genuinely don’t think people ask the question with malicious or prejudicial intent. And having been asked where I’m from literally since Pre-K, I’ve had an early introduction to fielding questions about my heritage. I’ve heard it all: Greek, Latina, Mexican, Italian, Polish, half-Korean (yeah, I dunno either) and simply “not white.” I’ve been asked by teachers, classmates, friends, coworkers, strangers and creepy men on the CTA. And every once in a while, some poor SOB will drop the e-word, thinking it’s a compliment, but will have to carry their entrails in their arms because I literally don’t play with that
shit. To set the record absolutely straight, my mother is Assyrian, originally from Iraq, and my father is a potato from Indiana (lol, he’s like neon white). And the primary lesson that my experiences have taught me is that part of being mixed is being continually mis-identified, to the point where for a big part of my life, I didn’t know how to identify myself. I was considered blonde (I’m not) by all of my Assyrian family, but then I’d get asked by everyone else what my race or ethnicity was. Middle Eastern/North African is not considered a distinct racial category; it is subsumed within the label of “white,” a term that most people, including myself, are uncomfortable using because “white” doesn’t account for the amount of ethnic and religious tension between perceptions of this region and Western culture. “Muslim” is not a racial or ethnic category, though it seems to have been adapted to that purpose in Western media. And since not everyone in the Middle East/North Africa is Muslim, it becomes extra inaccurate. To illustrate this problem, I like playing a little game I created, called “Who gets appropriated?” Ready? Here we go! Which of these people is white: Osama bin Laden, Saddam Hussein or Jesus? So, did you say Jesus? But all three are Middle-Eastern, and all three, according to every standardized racial categories I’ve
ever encountered, would be “white.” Yeah. There was an outcry a while back after Fox News’ Megyn Kelly pronounced Jesus as “white,” with a flurry of people exclaiming that Jesus was absolutely not white and how ignorant it is to say so! And then the conversation mysteriously ended, like someone accidentally bumped the off-switch. I had been so ready, like “Yeah, he’s not white. And? He’s? What is he? Hello?”
I am very proud of my status as “mixed,” and that is the identity I feel most comfortable with.
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So cool, we’ve now partially established that our current racial categories amount to shit, but that’s it? That’s what we’re concluding this with? Just an acknowledgment of a broken system that we keep insisting on using. Now, don’t get me wrong, I am very proud of my status as “mixed,” and that is the identity I feel most comfortable with. While I may be Middle Eastern, with whatever racial/ethnic connotations that come with that, I’m also half-white. I definitely have aspects of white privilege, which I’d never deny. But then again, here I sit, with my big nose and furry eyebrows that would connect to my hairline if not for the blessed magic of threading, struggling to find foundation that doesn’t make me look like an Oompa-Loompa (Has no one heard of undertones? SMH.), sort of white-ish, getting asked what am I, like a mislabeled specimen in bio lab, and having to think up some answer that encompasses this whole mess I just took several paragraphs and a game to explain. Cheers.
words are useless sometimes words aren’t enough Tony Rubino
Henna https://www.etsy.com/listing/220212302/henna-indian-beauty-2-giclee-print
broadside poetry in street lit style Julian Marshall
I of concrete. She was Broken speeding through the open prairie t was cleaned before the product of a street without cracks tha house - more like the snow fell. Boys had to ring the bell to her speeding & Bending dragon in which her inhibitions. Broken, over a boy. Yelling Babe I’m WILD
II I is important. I is Special. I is Different. I is - I am - I am Not Defined by the rules of ‘proper society’. ass whoopins. Raised on cornbread collard greens and Fine The Grass is green on this side & we are lligent. We are Beautiful. We are Strong and Inte So please tell me again what Black Is
Wild is WinD
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III toes of angels that Voices rising through steeples to tickle the guide his people to their promised land. A land of promises unfulfilled. way - its half empty. Look at the cup half- filled they say - no wind n the trees. You pray pitiless for me. See me like the ing up the leaves Making my presence known without ruff
Angry Atheist Angry. Godless. Opionated. Mario Mason
Who Will Survive In America: H o w Ka n y e W e st Ta u g h t M e S e l f- C a r e Lately I have been living with the motto WWKD: What Would Kanye Do? Valentine’s Day is coming up and in past years I’ve been like every other bitter single person. I just cursed the day, wallowed in self-pity and cursed every happy relationship I saw. This year is different, however. I decided to be my own valentine. I bought myself a card, and I plan on taking myself on a date (my excuse for ordering two meals). There is a high chance you have an opinion on Kanye West. He is called a genius as often as he is called an egomaniac or “crazy rapper who interrupted Taylor Swift.” The point is everyone (everyone I know anyway) has an opinion of Mr. West. My opinion on him is as positive as it can get. His music is extremely diverse and lends a lot to my care of self and selflove. When I need a pump while working out I have “Monster,” “Clique” for when I’m about to go out with friends and “Lost in the World” when I’m feeling lonely and believe that future bae will never come around. To me, he is more than a performer; Kanye is a commentator on pop culture. I believe his interviews and songs are academic texts that should be studied regardless of your major. Kanye has something for everyone; he serves as a reference point for art, fame, race, architecture, fashion, film, music and technology. I know this because he tells us whenever he gets the chance. This is the way I see Kanye: He cares a ton about many things and he wants us to care along with him. His method of delivering this to us though
is not the best or most popular way. The thing he cares about most is probably himself. This is where most people create opinions of him. You either love it or you hate it. Kanye’s arrogance is simply just confidence in my opinion. Who doesn’t wish they could tell the world how awesome they are? Prior to being who I am today, I was the most self-conscious person in my friend group until one day I decided, “Wait, if Kanye can do it, why can’t I? I totally can!” Anyway, let’s have a discussion about Kanye West and hopefully I can change your opinion about the guy. Kanye’s rap career started in 2002 after he almost died in a car accident. He had a fractured jaw and had to recover. Prior to this, he was a producer for many big names at the time including his now best friend Jay-Z. It was during his recovery that he decided to do his own thing and made the song “Through the Wire.” The story behind this song makes it one of my favorites. It was made two weeks after his car accident, and he recorded the song literally through the wire that held his jaw together. This story made Kanye human to me and made me a fan. It showed his unwillingness to just bow down, his ambitiousness and just everything that exemplifies the name “Kanye West.” Because of this and everything he has done, I am always the first to defend him when some-
“I’m not supposed to say how great [my work] is. Somebody is supposed to come in and be like, ‘Aw, man, that is just the craziest shit I saw in my life!’ and I’m [supposed to] be like, ‘Oh, do you think so? For real?’ That’s ignorant! Actually, that’s disrespectful to the person who just said it. That’s me acting stupid, like, I didn’t know it was good ... What my grandfather told me to say is, ‘You got good taste!’” If that doesn’t inspire you then I don’t know what will. People do great things and it annoys me to no end when they lessen their achievements; show people you are proud of what you did! Claim and own it! The feeling of taking pride in what you do is a great
The feeling of taking pride in what you do is a great one.
one. As a man of color, the pressure to be humble and modest in my achievements and not take away attention from the white male is too heavy for me. I imagine this is the same for a woman and twofold for women of color. Kanye knows people expect him to act a certain way and because of that he doesn’t; he’s being Kanye. It’s like you have to be modest so you can join the club of Black People That White People Like And Respect. Screw that, I’d rather just do me and have confidence in everything I do. I’d rather appreciate what I do and if no one sees it, I will make sure they do. Throughout history white men go on all day long about their achievements but as soon as a black man decides to display his ego we want him to shut up? Stay awake.
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one calls him an egomaniac. The man believes in the art he created. Is there anything wrong with that? In the grand scheme of the world, is there anything wrong with that? In a 2007 interview, Kanye said he was a fan of great things, and so by default, he was a fan of himself. Out of context this might make him sound like an egomaniac, but he later elaborated on this notion saying:
Liberation Leaders Illuminating Then & Now, Inspiring Forever Chrystos
Bio: activist e poet and e in m o n e nd aM two-spirit a , Chrystos is n ia b s le a fies as n Franwho identi s born in Sa a w e h S . part n urban India in a diverse p u w re g d 6 an hington, cisco in 194 lives in Was w o n e h S hts of the city. tive land rig a N a s a s rk ns wo t and desig where she is rt a n a is e also s. activist. Sh r own book e h f o rt a r the cove
Works:
Inspires: ive American s on feminism, Nat se cu fo k or w ’s os ily influChryst her poetry is heav d an e, ic st ju al ci r the rights, and so In an interview fo . m is tiv ac r he d an ’s, when enced by politics wrote, “Since my 20 os st ry Ch , et Po e ds, blog Coffe stice issues in wor ju al ci so s es dr ad an incident I saw the need to newspaper story, A ’ t. ou s op ‘p st ju face I my work rden snake, a sad ga a , ng so a , ok come poems. from my life, a bo ally, how these be tu ac , ea id no ve one. I’ve see-I ha won’t leave me al d an d in m y m in A line begins rest just flows.” e it down and the rit w d an t si to d out her learne rsonal, written ab pe ly ib ed cr in so al diHer work is Her use of nontra y. tit en id e iv at N e to the family, lovers, and works as a challeng ar m am gr d an ge tional langua inority people. colonization of m
Fire Power (1 995) Fugitive Colo rs (1995) In Her I Am (1 993) Dream On (1 991) Not Vanishin g (1988) Edited Best Le sb ia n Erotica (1999 Work feature ) d in This Brid ge Called My Writings by R Back: adical Women of Color (198 Work feature 1) d in Living th e Spirit: A Gay Americ an Indian An thology (198 8) In the scars o f my knees yo u can see children torn from their fam bludgeoned ilies into governm ent schools You can see th rough the pin s in my bones that we are p risoners of a My knee is so long war badly wound ed no one will The pus of th look at it e past oozes from every p This infection ore has gone on for at least 30 Our sacred b 0 years eliefs have bee n made into names of citi pencils es gas station My knee is w s ounded so b adly that I lim Anger is my cr p constantly utch I hold m yself upright with it My knee is w ounded see How I Am Still Walking - From Not Van ishing
broadside poetry in street lit style Julian Marshall
Open me up. Pull back the flaps and let the sun shine in my world of darkne to ss. Silence is my fa mily, dark depths blankets, feeling of my emptiness my pillo w. Where am I - a Brand new to the bo x. world but stuck in a box. Hi! At my house I have this box whe re mommy and da all my good stuff. ddy hide Like just last wee k I did a finger pa - they put it on th inting e fridge then into the box. I wonder guess they just wan why? I t to hold onto the memories of my ch ildhood. He begins the day loading these smal l metal balls into magazines. Jumps his into the box shap ed Humvee and begi fight for the little ns box path on his ri to ght arm. Back ho up on a farm with me he grew his brothers, differ ent from the othe he valued family. rs because Unfortunately one to those metal balls him to fall that da caused y. He was shipped away in a pine bo x. When I die they w ill put a dash on m y tombstone. But want it to be a rect I don’t angle, I want it to be a broken squigg You ask why well ly line. it will be black an d my black is stro deeply rooted in sk ng pride in. My life never fo llowed a solid patt a box. It kinda ju er n like st flowed along its path. So when I di e I want a broken squiggly lin e not a box Bury the hood in its 12 square bloc ks. The life of hard 12 feet under. Bla knocks ck folks to kill rape and plunder their community. Sharin own g an identity define d in color. Bury th Its 12 square bloc e hood. ks inside a box.
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s e x o B
(not) buying it busted advertising, bustling economy Dove
NOT BUYING IT!
Consider: While Dove says that they did not intend for this print ad for VisibleCare body wash to be racist, it’s hard to ignore that the before-to-after gradient also goes from the dark-to-light skinned women. 1. Are you buying this ad? 2. What’s problematic about it? 3. What is the responsibility of a company in promoting racial justice? 4. How should a company respond to racism in its ads, even if unintended?
words are useless
M o d esty https://www.etsy.com/shop/EmanEffects
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sometimes words aren’t enough Eman Alkotob, EmanEffects
Sanity Optional beyond this point Peach Stephan
White Girl Learns About Black Hair I had always been curious about black hair: why it stayed in place, why some hair grew downwards in tight rows while some grew upwards into an afro and why my mom wouldn’t decorate my hair with colorful beads. I am a hands-on learner and black hair was no exception. When my classmates weren’t paying attention, I tried to cryptically touch black hair at any chance I got-sitting behind Archie at a school assembly, helping Bri refasten the clips in the back of her head and patting the younger children on top of their heads. But it remained esoteric and confusing to me.
Sapphire mumbled something about her head’s oils and walked away. But the real shocker happened when Sapphire entered the room with nearly all of her hair gone. Gone were the loose braids that had once graced her lower back-only a short patch of fuzz was left. “Sapphire!” I exclaimed. “Your hair. It looks good.” She nervously patted the newly trimmed lot, said thanks, and sat at her desk to do homework. But I’d be damned if she didn’t tell me more about the bold Britney Spears hair chop she just pulled.
One of my freshman roommates was mixed, with coarse hair that smelled like fried eggs when she straightened it. The other, Sapphire, was black with long braided hair that never had a flyaway.
“Your hair was so long. Did you donate it?”
One morning I rolled to the other side of my bed to find Sapphire staring at me in my sleep, her head just tall enough to meet my eyes on the top bunk. I shrieked not only because of the context, but because Sapphire was wearing what looked like a fullblown turban.
At that point I didn’t know how I even got accepted into college. Her hair was fake this whole time I was living with her and I didn’t even realize? In my world, extensions were stringy, noticeably different strands of hair that looked tacky unless you were Paris Hilton, not gorgeous, natural-looking braids. Who else had been fooling me this whole time? With Sapphire being less than enthused about my intrusive inquires about black hair, I consoled in my two close friends to find out.
“Sorry,” I said. “I didn’t recognize you. What’s on your head?”
Sapphire responded, “No, I just took my extensions out.”
I never really understood what the big deal was about race and why some people couldn’t get along with each other.
weaves and it is sometimes done with a needle. I asked about Sapphire’s turban and all my other burning questions and they answered patiently. Growing up, I thought divides between black and white were minimal, that we can’t possibly be that different. I never really understood what the big deal was about race and why some people couldn’t get along with each other. But like a well-done weave, culture clashes can be hidden, covered up and overlooked. Some people, like Sapphire, don’t want to talk about it because it’s uncomfortable. Some people, like me, risk being overly straightforward and offensive. But when people are open and proud of who they are, it is easy to find understanding.
They laughed at me. One pulled back her hairline to reveal her own short hair, which was in fact, a weave. I was baffled.
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They told me how often it had to be washed, what certain styles of braids and cornrows implied, and convinced me I hadn’t missed out for not having beaded hair as a child since it was uncomfortable to sleep on. I found out it can take hours to install
words are useless sometimes words aren’t enough Brandy Kayzakian-Rowe
Irie
(not) buying it busted advertising, bustling economy Popchips
Consider: This print ad by PopChips features Ashton Kutcher in brownface and portraying a stereotype of an Indian man. 1. How does this ad perpetuate racial stereotypes? 2. Do you find it offensive? Racist? 3. What cultural impact does it have?
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NOT BUYING IT!
Status Quo Combustion La Masculus vs La Femina Lubna Baig
50 Shades of Brown This Valentine’s Day, my boyfriend and I decided to have a weekend getaway to basically get away from school for a weekend of champagne, roses, teddy bears and chocolates, but not before catching the most talked about movie of the year - 50 Shades of Grey! The movie starring Jamie Dornan and Dakota Johnson explores the possibility of true love within
the contractual lifestyle of BDSM (bondage, discipline, dominance and submission). Dornan stars as Christian Grey, the wounded bad boy (with a good heart!) who can never be truly satisfied with what is known as a “vanilla relationship.” A vanilla relationship is simply your average boyfriend-girlfriend relationship comprising of movie nights, pizza nights,
montha-versaries (celebrating one month of being in the relationship/going “steady”), mistletoe kissing, traditional teddy bears, Hello Kitties and chocolates on Valentine’s Day. BDSM relationships, on the other hand, are much more formal in nature and they explore somewhat untraditional areas when it comes to sexual intercourse.
But even fair-skinned Pakistani girls like us are referred to as brown. In fact, so often was I referred to as “brown” that I started looking at myself as “that brown girl” everywhere I went. The mirrors of Loyola’s restrooms, the walls of the classrooms, the busy CTA station, the skyscraper of the Willis Tower, the ice skating rink at Millennium Park, the ghetto neighborhoods of the South side and even the noisy video gaming stations at Chuck E. Cheese’s- everywhere I went I saw a brown girl staring back at me. I couldn’t understand what I was. White, Arab, Pakistani, Indian, Asian, Turkish, Mongolian, Chinese? I couldn’t even comprehend the color of my complexion. Apparently, I am 50 shades of brown. When we first meet people, they asked us what we
did, what we studied or which country we were from. It is OK to be curious about a person’s ethnicity, but it is totally not OK to mimic their skin color with the goal of representing their race. Last February, Kim Kardashian and her momager Kris Jenner attended an opera ball in Vienna, Austria. They were guests of Austrian businessman Richard Lugner there. Because she is the wife of black rapper/musician Kanye West and also had a daughter with him who apparently inherited Kanye’s genes, some guy thought it would be funny to don a “blackface” and joke around with Kim saying, “Hey Kim, it’s me Kanye, your hubby, I am here in Vienna for you!” Blackface was a form of theatrical makeup in the 19th century used by performers to represent a black person. This was when racism and racial segregation was rampant. It evolved at a time when people of color were considered less than human and white people were still allowed to “own” black people. To think we are well into the 21st century, in an age of iPads and robotic surgeries, and still have species of “blackfaces” existing is quite disgusting. Kim stated in an interview that Kanye had been complaining a lot that racism still exists, but she never thought she would experience this herself. Whether this Vienna incident was a publicity stunt or not, I really did not like watching a guy on national television degrade a black musician by painting his face with the skin color of the concerned musician. Black or not, people seem to judge just about everything about everybody regardless of their race. I vividly remember my 18th birthday. After all, 18 was when I found my first true love. He was “white.” When I took him home to meet my family, it turned into a disaster. My obnoxious, racist and severely narcissistic
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But as I finished the last few drops of my drink, I wasn’t thinking of the romantic moments spent with the boyfriend or about Christian’s steamy scenes with Ana in the movie. Rather, I was thinking about how racist people are and how segregated the world can be. I was raised in the United States of America. I hold an American passport and by law I am an American. During my elementary school days, my dad’s job involved a lot of travelling. He was a project manager working for an oil company with its headquarters based in the Middle East. So, every one or two years, I would change schools. In fact, we travelled so much that I went to like seven different schools within a span of just four years. From India to Saudi Arabia to Kuwait to Abu Dhabi and then back to Chicago. It was like being an army kid. Amidst all that travelling the one thing struck me was the fact that people would label my ethnicity right away based upon my looks. To the Indians, I was a Pakistani because my skin color doesn’t have that bronze-brown shade and I am fairskinned with a hint of pink on my cheeks and nose. To the Pakistanis, I was an Arab because of an Anglicized accent, and to the Arabs I was white because of my westernized clothes and my PDA with my then boyfriend. And to the Americans, I was American-born but “brown chick” not “white.” And then again a lot of Pakistanis looked and dressed like me so I was a “brown Pakistani.” This doesn’t make sense because I personally know some “fair-skinned” Pakistanis that are not “brown-skinned.”
cousins did everything possible to make him uncomfortable. They emulated his accent, pointed out how white people go through a lot of divorces and how most of them are dumb and have no real talent compared to academically proficient Indian and Pakistani people. At one point, they even put on a “whiteface” and joked that the Nivea moisturizer made their skin look white. By then, I had had enough. What followed was a big blowout resulting in me almost punching one of my brothers and then storming out with the boyfriend. Recently, America’s favorite America’s Got Talent host, musician and rapper Nick Cannon, wore whiteface to promote his album White People Party Music and got into hot water for it. The hashtag “#doublestandards” started trending all over social networking sites such as Twitter and Instagram. People stated that when Nick Cannon put on whiteface, he was considered hilarious, but when Julianne Hough put on blackface for Halloween, she was dubbed racist. Blackface, whiteface, brownface, yellowface, or armenianface, it is really not OK for people to paint their faces with the skin color of other people with the goal of representing them. Regardless of what face you wear, it’s degrading, humiliating and not to mention racist! In a society that has come a long way since the Neanderthals developed tool, and with the rise of “checkerboard couples” and mixed race families, it’s really unethical and immoral to judge people based on the color of their skin. And how about we stop calling our president the “first black president” or the “black president” and just refer to him as simply “Mr. President”? People criticize Kim Kardashian for being famous for no real reason, but I admire her for
having the balls to marry a guy regardless of his race and give birth to the guy’s daughter. Black, white or brown, I really think there ought to be a law banning the use of such words in reference to a person. The First Amendment promotes freedom of speech but I don’t condone the use of racial slurs and then “pleading the Fifth.” So when my 5-year-old niece started her first day of kindergarten, I accompanied her. It was her first time being away from us. My sister couldn’t afford to take the day off and my niece was terrified at the idea of being in a place surrounded by strangers. Her teacher told me to stay for a little while until she gets comfortable. In class, she was asked which country she was from. She innocently quipped, “I was born here, so I am an American.” I beamed proudly at her. As I drove past Madison Elementary School, Boney M’s song played in my head: Brown girl in the ring Tra la la la la There’s a brown girl in the ring Tra la la la la Brown girl in the ring Tra la la la la She looks like a sugar plum Plum plum Yes, my niece and I may be American and 50 shades of brown, but we are like sugar plums...
words are useless
Colorful Wisdom
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sometimes words aren’t enough Dara Barth
message me we asked. you answered. BROAD people
February 2015
BROAD Info + Editors BROAD Info + Editors
BROAD
ADS MAD TE QUO ER N COR
tell-a-vision visions & revisions of our culture(s) Hiding by Sabine Quetant
AL L TE ON VISI
-ATELL N VISIO
EN/ SCRE Y PLA
COR E T QUO ER N
ARK M K BOO RE HE
BROAD N ATIO LIBER ERS D LEA
LTY FACU D E E F
AD BRO ECAP R
WLA ED IMAT REAN
R NTEE VOLU CES VOI
EER CAR L CAL
E ME
SAG
MES
This poem is Sabine Quetant’s powerfully written and delivered account of being a Black woman in America. AD BRO
VISIT G IN T E GO
WE’V IL 1. What is the meaning and purpose of this poem? MA 2. What does Quetant mean when she says, “...until I forget that this country was nursed from this body?” E C AN ADV 3. According to Quetant, how do Black women respond to racism and oppression? O
Link:
youtube.com/watch?v=uspZ60DnfUw
MICR S E AGR S N SHU
D A O BR BROAD
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Consider:
SIDE
Living in Color BROAD Voice, BROAD Communities Brady Wells
Growing Up as a Black Man in small town iowa Growing up as a black man in small town in Iowa, my parents always made me aware of the color of my skin. I grew up hearing, “Pull up those pants. Bone Thugs and Harmony do not live here.” I never really understood the importance of how I dressed or how I talked because I was, in fact, black. I was very into music when I was younger and looked up to the other successful black males in the music industry. Most of the men I looked up to were rappers and had a distinct “black” look to them. So I went through my do-rag phases when I was a freshman in high school and listened to as much rap music as I could because I wanted to be just like them. I went to a school where I was one of about 5 black people in the entire school, one of whom happened to be my sister. I was always known as the “black kid” in high school. Not because I held on to the do-rag phase and made it apparent to everyone that I was. It was because no matter how great I did in my academics, show choir competitions, or sporting events I was ALWAYS one of the only black kids. I ran into most of my racist encounters in my sporting events. I was a skilled football and basketball player because I worked hard in and out of practice, yet people said it was because of the “extra ligament” in my leg that black people had. I was targeted after football games when other people lost against our team and called a nigger and a poor black kid just because I was the odd man out of
the athletic people on our team. All of these encounters led me to my first fight in high school because someone thought that I had pooped in someone else’s shoe. Yes. They thought that I, the soft-spoken, respectful kid, pooped in someone’s shoe. By the end of the day, the person who thought I did it was telling everyone, “Only a nigger would do something like that.” I was presented with my first dilemma of how I should respond to this racism, because he continued to say it to my face when we were both in the locker room. I was so fueled with anger that I drove him IN MY OWN CAR off school grounds, beat him up, and went back to school. I remember that I was so fueled with emotion that a few tears dropped from my face as I was in the fight. Not because of the punches, but because something so little as words had driven me to that situation. I was suspended from school and my parents were infuriated with my decisions. I will never forget when my parents sat me down and did not give me any leniency for the fact that he was using racial slurs against me. “We taught you better than that,” they both told me. As I sat there with so many emotions flowing through me, I realized why my parents didn’t want me to submit to the stereotypical “black norm” of wearing baggy pants, listening to rap music, and talking in any form of Ebonics. It was because I was so much more than that. Someone calling me a nigger shouldn’t do
But it brings me so much joy to break these social expectations people have of a different race and make them realize the true beauty of a human life.
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anything to my being because that does not encompass who I am and it never will. “It was a word white people created in the past to crush spirits of black people,” my parents said. And when I gave into that word I was giving something with no substance - a word - leverage over my actions. I am not, nor will I ever be, a nigger. I am not “that black kid.” I am not a thug, I am not a boy, I am not less significant than anyone else on this earth just because of the color of my skin. I am Brady Wells. A damn good musician, and even better brother and uncle, and an amazing son and boyfriend to a woman I love with every inch of my being (who happens to be white). Do I get cross looks as I walk down the street with someone’s hand in mine who is a different shade? You better believe it. Do I let it get to me anymore? Fuck. No. I walk this earth knowing I am a black man and that some people think differently of me before they even speak to me. But it brings me so much joy to break these social expectations people have of a different race and make them realize the true beauty of a human life. The joy, the ambition, and the love... So much of the love.
message me we asked. you answered. BROAD people
February 2015
BROAD Info + Editors
How have you been stereotyped because of your race?
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words are useless
Multicultural Hands http://www.grebogirlbeadery.etsy.com/
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sometimes words aren’t enough Meah Tweh
Living in Color BROAD Voice, BROAD Communities Abigail Diaz
The Anthropology of
Race
Since the early beginnings of physical anthropology, it has been intrinsically linked with the race concept. In fact, the field itself started due to an increased interest in the study of race. The scientific community and public both saw phenotypical differences between individuals of different geographic origins and tried to project these into being actual genetic with social implications. The physical differences were quickly said to indicate separate species and these different species were quickly ranking and put into a tree. Thus scientific racism was born. Faulty, biased and skewed studies were used to reinforce social inequality and hierarchies. It has only been in the last several decades that anthropologists have come to realize the mistakes of the past and have tried to bring about the end of the race concept and scientific racism. Scientific racism has contributed to many negative and incorrect concepts that are still around today in some capacity. Oneís ìrace,î which today is known as a purely social constraint, has been linked to viability, crime, physical health, mental health, disabilities, poverty, promiscuity and intelligence (Kevles, 100). Intelligence and inheritability of intelligence have been a topic of great interest for racial thinkers. Contrary to Boasí teachings and warnings that heredity was more complicated than was understood at the time, Hooton and the like proclaimed that each race had distinct social, moral and cultural traits that were static among the group. This included intelligence, which lead to a desire to purify the races and not allow those that were of weak and feeble minds to reproduce. The eugenics movement stemmed from this.
Since the days of eugenics, it has been a common thought that intelligence is passed down through genes. Sadly, anthropology greatly contributed to the eugenics movement of the early 20th century. A groundbreaking case, Buck vs. Bell, legislated forced sterilizations on eugenical grounds because it was ìprovenî that imbecility was passed down from one generation to the next (Kevles, 111). Eugenics was not solely focused on races as it also greatly affected women and their reproductive rights, the poor (as poverty and success in society were genetic) and the disabled, whose conditions were a risk to their offspring. It was during the eugenics movement that the incorrect notion that intelligence (or lack thereof ) was inherited and that race was a factor in said intelligence. Since then, intelligence and race became tightly linked as shown in early craniometry studies to the later IQ tests. Binet, a psychology at the Sorbonne in Paris, was one of the first to use craniometry as a gauge of intelligence. He said that the link between intelligence and head size was real and confirmed by all (Gould). This can easily be applied to the different races, as it was a commonly known fact of the time that head size was one of the static traits and indicators of racial affiliation. The 19th centuryís craniometry supported the racial thinking and hierarchies of the time. Caucasoids ranked first, followed by Mongoloids then Negroids (Lieberman, 69). Rushton later altered this ranking when he put Mongoloids first and Caucasoids in the middle. Rushton also linked brain size with IQ scores.
One wishes that many more would listen to the rational thinking of Lieberman when he correct asserts that ìmeasure of heritability rely on the dichotomy of genes and environmentî. He also criticizes those that place too much emphasis on inheritability saying they ignore the ìextensive interactionî between genetics and the environment (Lieberman, 70.)
modern IQ test.) Rather than thinking of intelligence as a multi-variate and complex issue, these men made it a mere measurement on a unilinear scale. Intelligence was a sole result of genes. This unilinear scale made it all the much easier to link race and intelligence because it was also ìknownî at the time that race was genetic as well.
Benet later discovered that his craniometric findings were incorrect and turned to a different way to measure intelligence. He used his psychological background to formulate numerous and various tests to measure intelligence and in 1908, Intelligence Quotient testing was born from these findings (Gould). He acknowledged that these findings would not be always accurate but, to paraphrase, it was the best that could be done to identify a single, empirical, numerical measure of brain strength. Originally, these tests were supposed to help teachers identify which students were falling behind. It has since been misused.
James Flynn compared IQ tests from around the world. He pointed out that previous studies on Asian scored being higher were incorrect and skewed. But he points out that environment greatly contributes to IQ because in the Asian culture, overachieving is the norm. Flynn also says that the gap between white and black scores were due to not the ìquality of a personís mind but also the quality of the world that the person lives inî (Gladwell, 5). Again, environment is proven to play a larger role than fundamentalists thought.
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American hereditarians took Binetís IQ test and ran with it in the opposite direction. It was used to reify a static level of intelligence. IQ tests, which are still used in the Unites States, measure traits that predict the quality of the individualís capacity to think (Gladwell). Fundamentalists (and hereditarians) like Goddard, Terman and Yerkes each misused the IQ test and fed into the eugenical and racial thinking of the time. (Termanís Stanford-Binet test is still the basis for the
It would be optimistic and incorrect to think that all of the scientific community sees the numerous variables that go into intelligence and that race is not one of them. Rushton, as recent as 2005, was still discussing craniometry as a viable resource in determining oneís quality of brain (Rushton and Jensen). It is important and accurate, Rushton claims. He throws numbers around and creates a ìg-factorî of mental ability. But one cannot trust research that originated from racist 19th century thinking which demands the superiority of one ìraceî and the inferiority of others.
Racial hierarchies have lead to some of the most destructive social policies in history. As previously discussed, eugenics was a product of scientific racism. Forced sterilizations, abortions and separations from society were legalized. The Holocaust and genocide were products of these racial rankings. Slavery was a byproduct. The Jim Crow laws of the mid-20th century in the United States were a result. It was not until the past several decades that anthropologists have actively begun looking at past research with critical eyes, searching for biases. Research has greatly improved, as has public understanding. Great strides have been taken to bring about the destruction of the race concept. Anthropologists understand genetics and heritability better now than every before. Geographic variation is an actively used term rather than race, which has social connotations. Intelligence, just as Lieberman said, is a product of genes and environment interacting. Race is a complex and fluid idea. Today, it is known that it is a mere social grouping that more indicated a self-identification with a certain cultural and geographic group. Race, a social construct, therefore has social implications due to ingrained biases and preconceived inequalities. These social implications have later genetic implications. For example, social inequalities can result in additional stresses and health issues on the downtrodden. Preconceived superiority and subconscious biases still affect minorities. But this is not to say that race directly affects genes. It is purely a social construct and without the social implications that are ingrained in society, there would be no genetic link at all. Intelligence is a product of genetics and social interactions. It is the social interactions that have racial implications only because of how society chooses to interact with individuals of different geographic origin. True intelligence would be to accept individual variation as a happy product of evolution rather than a reason to rank groups of people and fit them into hierarchical clades. Any research that results in the inferiority of one ĂŹraceĂŽ and the superiority of another must be discredited and tossed aside. Humans cannot and should not ever be ranked as one human life is never worth more or better than another. This is the underlying principle of anthropology, which seeks to study mankind in an unbiased and all-encompassing way. To form an anthropological and scientific study that claims one product (intelligence) is the first result of one variable (race), is to deny everything one knows about the infinite complexity of human nature and genetics.
Race is a complex and fluid idea. Today, it is known that it is a mere social grouping that more indicated a selfidentification with a certain cultural and geographic group.
words are useless
It’s Not All Black & White
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sometimes words aren’t enough Kristina Johnson
Liberation Leaders Illuminating Then & Now, Inspiring Forever Jessica Gonzalez-Rojas
Bio: al f the Nation o r to c e ir D , which e Executive tive Health c u Jessica is th d ro p e R atute for e health org v ti c u d Latina Insti ro p national re ts of Latiis the only health righ e th n o York g usin n from New n o ti a nization foc iz n a rg rves as a ads the o and also se nas. She le , C D n to g erican ashin d Latin Am n a City and W o n ti a L f ity fessor o ew York’s C N f o y it adjunct Pro rs e e City Univ raduate Studies at th completed her underg ster’s e er Ma College. Sh d earned h n a y it rs e NYU. iv n tration from at Boston U is in m d A c ubli degree in P
Works: Inspires: for Latinational advocate Jessica is a leading , race, er ses on how gend nas. Her work focu intersect to impact us at st n tio ra ig m and im te for e. She is an advoca reproductive justic worked s, and Latinas, and nt ra ig m im , en wom rant ps between immig to form partnershi olence justice, and anti-vi e tiv uc od pr re s, right politics is a leader in local movements. She ns, injustice organizatio al ci so l ra ve se d an ork Color Policy Netw of en om W e th g cludin unity Immigrant Comm (WOCPN) and New ty. ICE) in New York Ci Empowerment (N
Jessica has co ntributed to the The New York Times, Th e Boston Globe, and National Public Radio. She was the 2 009 a “Mujeres Des tacadas (Wom en of Honor) ” by El Diario/L a Prensa, a new spaper she al so contributes to . Jessica work ed on the public ation “Reprod uctive Justice B riefing Book: A Primer on Rep roductive Just ice and Social Ch ange” and was an Advisory Mem ber for the bo ok Latina/o Sexu alities: Probin g Powers, Passi ons, Practices , and Policies.
search this warning: results with assumptions race, ethnicity, color
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s e x o B
Insight on (In)Justice Because sometimes justice starts with a conversation... Kait Madsen
Our Whiteness Can’t Be Invisible The way I was raised to talk about race was very a-political. Like any good White people, my parents educated my sisters and me with rhetoric like, “Everybody is equal,” and “Differences in race are unimportant.” We talked about the heroism of Rosa Parks and Martin Luther King Jr. We noted the fact that Malcolm X was born right outside of my hometown. We talked about slavery, Apartheid, and discrimination, past instances of racism that we had, according to my parents and teachers, overcome years ago. My little sister idolized Ruby Bridges, the first African American child to integrate a school in the South. We all were raised to tolerate, to respect, to dignify. We were raised to love our neighbors. My parents are wonderful people and they did their best to educate us to be aware of racial issues. But we grew up in Council Bluffs, Iowa, which, according to the US census, is 91% white. The data states that the population of Council Bluffs is also 8.5% Latino, but I rarely interacted with anyone who identified as Latino growing up. In addition, the city is less than 2% African American. The occasional conversations we had about race in classrooms and around the dinner table, while important, all fit into a neat box of what race in America looks like. And, most notably, none of those conversations ever touched on the role Whiteness plays in U.S. race relations. Because of the bubble of Whiteness in which we grew
up, we were also warned to lock the doors when we were home alone and Latino construction workers mended our roof outside. We were warned to avoid North Omaha, the part of the city known for its predominantly African American citizens and high rates of gang and gun violence. In the wake of September 11th, 2001, we talked about the “oppression” of Middle Eastern women and the “misogyny’ of Middle Eastern men. None of these conversations explicitly included race, of course; it was never, “Don’t drive down those streets because the Black men in that neighborhood can be dangerous.” But perhaps it was the very exclusion of race from these conversations - the fact that we were raised ignorant of the racial complexity of certain issues - that made growing up White so dangerous. I think that’s a common experience for a lot of White Americans, especially those of us who grow up with a very White social network in a very White town: we don’t see ourselves as “White” or in possession of a race, but instead as normal, as the standard, as raceless. This is a major issue. When we can’t recognize the role our own Whiteness plays in the perpetuation of structural inequalities, we become part of the problem. Being White is political, is privileged, is filled with consequences and opportunities. Because I’m White, my voiced frustrations might get me called a bitch, but I never run the risk of being painted as
family and friends, the media, Hollywood, politicians - it becomes too easy to make people of color out to be the “other,” the non-normal. And “othering” has a terribly dehumanizing effect that creates institutionalized racism that remains as invisible to us as our own Whiteness. So when we talk about race, we HAVE to talk about Whiteness, too. The Black experience in America is they way it is BECAUSE the White experience is the way it is. I believe this conversation has to start with White parents educating their children. Parents raising children who are non-White are already having these conversations; analyzing the perceptions, histories, privileges, and oppressions of their racial identity because it cannot be ignored. White people have the privilege of our race being invisible in conversation; we don’t HAVE to teach our children about Whiteness in order for them to be protected, welcomed, and safe in society. That is the automatic. But in order for real progress to me made and real issues to be understood, we have to make the role of Whiteness explicit when we educate our children in order to promote more critical dialogue about race issues in the United States.
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an Angry Black Woman. When I look into apartment rentals, I don’t have to worry about getting rejected for “appearing unreliable” when my White roommate - with less education, income, and lower credit - is deemed reliable. (Yes, this actually happened to my Black partner. I watched the whole conversation and left fuming.) I don’t have to worry about if my Afro-hair will be considered “business professional” enough at my job interview because cultural ideas about professionalism are based off of a White standard. Further, I don’t have to worry about walking into a job interview and watching the interviewer’s look of shock when they realize I’m Black or Brown. Before the interview even starts, I don’t have to worry that my name on my resume will exclude me from job offers. I don’t have to worry about getting shot by Stand Your Ground citizens or police officers for looking like a “thug.” I get to see my Whiteness represented in movies, TV shows, clothing catalogues. Even Band-Aids are made to match my skin. Growing up White, I was not aware of my privileges. My Whiteness was invisible. In contrast, my African American partner was raised with a constant awareness of how his race was perceived in our mostly white hometown. He learned to talk a certain way, dress a certain way, behave a certain way in order to represent himself, his family, his race with “dignity.” He learned that in the eyes of his White neighbors, all of his actions became representative of All Black Men Everywhere. He learned to keep his hands out of his pockets when he was shopping and his hands on the steering wheel when he got pulled over. He learned that other people had very different perceptions of his relatives in North Omaha, and he became an expert and code-switching between African American Vernacular English (his Facebook profile use to state that he was fluent in Ebonics as a second language) and “standard” English. He was aware of the complexity of his identity. He was constantly cautious not to become a stereotype. His parents knew that growing up Black in America would do everything to make him believe he was less than; they prepared him for this reality so that he could come out of it and still have a sense of identity, purpose, and self-worth. As I’ve mentioned in previous columns (see the September 2014 issue), a major contributing factor of the sharp divide in understanding of race between White people and people of color in America is the racial makeup of individuals’ social networks. According to a 2013 study by the Public Religion Research Institute, 91% of the social networks of White Americans are also White. When all we know is White - our
stranger solidarity A question, a person, an answer BROAD people via BROAD team
[...in response to the lack of media representation of people of color with mental illnesses]
People of Color and Mental Illness Photo Project This project was initiated by Dior Vargas, a Latina feminist and mental health advocate.
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To see the whole project, visit http://diorvargas.com/poc-mental-illness
Living in Color BROAD Voice, BROAD Communities Wanye Kest
Black Women Making History Shonda Rhimes
Serena Williams
Rhimes is the creator, head writer and executive producer of some of TV’s most popular shows; shows you’ve probably watched or at least heard of. She boasts credits for Grey’s Anatomy, Scandal and How to Get Away With Murder. Rhimes not only received a Golden Globe award as well as several other awards for her dramas, but also three women of color from her shows have won awards for Best Actress in a Drama. Her shows are destroying stereotypes of leading ladies, women of color and diverse casts while presenting captivating storylines.
Williams has already won the 2015 Australian Open, which means she holds 19 Grand Slam titles to this date. She is undefeated in women’s double competitions (where she always partnered with her sister). Not only is she the most recent player to hold all four Grand Slam titles at once, but also she has won four Olympic medals and has been ranked No. 1 on six separate occasions.
Laverne Cox Cox is a producer, actress and also the first openly transgender person to grace the cover of Time magazine. She was nominated for an Emmy for her role in Orange is the New Black where she plays Sophia Burset. She also produces and stars in her own show titled TRANSform Me. Cox is a strong activist in the trans community.
There are many ladies out there who are making history but often remain unknown. Beyoncé Beyoncé has managed to remain relevant and powerful over her 18-year career. She has been nominated for more Grammy awards than any other woman and has the second most wins for a black woman, right behind Aretha Franklin. She is also the highest paid black musician in history. During the decade of the 2000s she was the top certified artist in Billboard and her album “4” was pirated more than 10 million times in 2011, a record that year.
Quvenzhané Wallis Wallis is only 11 years old but has already received an Oscar nomination. She also starred in Annie as the first African-American Annie. Her performance received a Golden Globe nomination. She is also the face of Armani Junior.
There are many ladies out there who are making history but often remain unknown. If you’d like to learn more about these women, I recommend looking up Chandra Wilson, Janet Mock and Viola Davis. Just because I haven’t listed someone here does not mean they are not relevant. I am very proud of these women who are breaking public conceptions of black women and people of color.
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More
words are useless sometimes words aren’t enough Maria Barry
Golden Goddess http://www.mariabarryart.com, www.MariaBarryArt.Etsy.com
“
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just words? just speeches? Audre Lorde
I remember how being young and black and gay and lonely felt. A lot of it was fine, feeling I had the truth and the light and the key, but a lot of it was pure hell.
The master’s tools will never dismantle the master’s house.
Black women sharing close ties with each other, politically or emotionally, are not the enemies of Black men.
Black women are programmed to define ourselves within this male attention and to compete with each other for it rather than to recognize and move upon our common interests.
When we create out of our experiences, as feminists of color, women of color, we have to develop those structures that will present and circulate our culture.
We have to consciously study how to be with each other until it becomes a habit because what was native has been stolen from us, the love of Black women for each other.
Black writers, of whatever quality, who step outside the pale of what black writers are supposed to write about, or who black writers are supposed to be, are condemned to silences in black literary circles that are as total and as destructive as any imposed by racism.
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It’s a struggle but that’s why we exist, so that another generation of Lesbians of Color will not have to invent themselves, or their history, all over again.
bookmark here find your next social justice text here BROAD Readers
First Sentence:
Released: 2005
Genre:
n
Historical Fictio
“Kanai spotted her th e moment he stepped onto the crowded platform: he was dece ived neither by her close-c ropped black hair nor by her clothes, which were those of a teenage boy-loose cotton pa nts and an oversized white shirt .”
Overview:
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broadside
poetry in street lit style Kait Madsen at age 17
Last summer, sun, on a long day of lifeguarding under sizzling you brought me a Pizza Hut pizza.
a squeeze that was my professional cover for, thank you, my favorite friend, and I love you, my temporarily tanned knuckles knocking against the smooth brown fingers that engulfed my hand.
n You left me smiling, smelling like sunscree and smitten satisfaction. A man with a grandson, a round belly, and an even rounder wife waddled over to my summertime throne. He lifted his large flab of a nose towards the sun and me, squinting, and croaked,
Is that your boyfriend? I raised my chin in a yessir. With a phlegm-filled chuckle the man responded, Why are you wasting your time with one of them? I am not a fan of checkerboard couples. At the retreat of his saggy back, I felt a giggle bubbling in my throat. An old fat man with a flabby nose and a flabby wife judged us.
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a
A nice surprise for a starved me, I squeezed your hand in thanks from my perch overlooking the pool,
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“
just words? just speeches? Alice Walker
The most common way people give up their power is by thinking they don’t have any.
Sexuality is one of the ways that we become enlightened, actually, because it leads us to self-knowledge.
I grew up in the South under segregation. So, I know what terrorism feels like - when your father could be taken out in the middle of the night and lynched just because he didn’t look like he was in an obeying frame of mind when a white person said something he must do. I mean, that’s terrorism, too.
Poetry is the lifeblood of rebellion, revolution, and the raising of consciousness.
I think unless the people are given information about what is happening to them, they will die in ignorance.
Womanist is to feminist as purple is to lavender.
Yes, Mother. I can see you are flawed. You have not hidden it. That is your greatest gift to me.
ADS MAD TE QUO ER N COR
tell-a-vision visions & revisions of our culture(s) Sikh Captain America
AL L TE ON VISI
-ATELL N VISIO
EN/ SCRE Y PLA
COR E T QUO ER N
ARK M K BOO RE HE
BROAD N ATIO LIBER ERS D LEA
LTY FACU D E E F
R NTEE VOLU CES VOI
EER L CAL
CAR
AD BRO
WLA ED IMAT REAN
Vishavjit (“Vish”) Singh is a Sikh New Yorker and cartoonist known for his depictions of racism, religious intolerance, and ignorance of the Sikh faith. This film follows Vish as he dresses up as Captain America for three days in order to see the reaction of his fellow New Yorkers. 1. 2. 3. 4.
SIDE
D
VISIT G IN
A What do you think about this short film? BRO GOT E’VE W Were you surprised by any of the reactions? MAIL E What do you think about Sikh Captain America’s mission to V“kick ANC some intolerant ass?” AD How does the film challenge ideas about race, ICROreligion, and American identity?
Link:
youtube.com/watch?v=n2G8I_Aq5E4#t=25
M ES AGR S N SHU
D A O BR
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Consider:
QUOTE CORNER
tell-a-vision
MADADS
visions & revisions of our culture(s) To Miley Cyrus
TELL-AVISION
SCREEN/ PLAY
BOOKMA RK HERE
TELL-AVISION
QUOTE C ORNER
BROAD FACULTY FEED
BROAD RECAP
LIBERATIO N LEADERS
CAREER CALL
WLA REANIMA TED
VOLUNTEE R VOICES
Christopher Michaels’s poem critiques Miley Cyrus and the cultural appropriation/exploitation of “twerking” and other aspects of Black culture. BROAD-
Consider:
VISITING
MESSAGE ME
MICRO 1. What is the meaning and purpose of this poem? AGRES 2. What does Quetant mean when she says, “...until I forget Sthat this country was nursed from this body?” AD HUNS
VANCE
Link:
youtube.com/watch?v=Bw1vvOilGuY
BROAD
WE’VE GO T MAIL
(not) buying it busted advertising, bustling economy Burger King’s “Texican Whopper”
NOT BUYING IT!
1. Are you buying this commercial? 2. What’s problematic about it? 3. What racial stereotypes are depicted? 4. Do you think this commercial was done out of racial ignorance, or intentional provocation in order to sell more Whoppers?
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Consider: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NmJMscmhRn8 Burger King used this commercial with a “Texas cowboy” and “Mexican wrestler” to sell its “Texican Whopper.” The wrestler in the commercial is very short in stature and is draped in the Mexican flag.
screen/play film review, justice take Dark Girls
Release: 2011
Director:
Bill Duke, D. Channsin Berry
Genre:
Documentary
Where to Find:
Netflix, Google Play, Amazon
Overview:
“Dark Girls” explores the widespread, though unrecognized, colorism that exists within the black community. This hierarchy, based on approximation to “white” skin colors, has profound effects on women, especially since sense of beauty and self-worth is often correlated to how light or dark their skin color is. The film highlights that this phenomenon occurs far beyond the American black community, with strong footholds in many third world countries, where sales of skin lightening creams have reached $43 billion per year. Besides having physically detrimental effects, as these whitening creams have been linked to cancers, these notions of superiority tied to skin color reveal that racial injustice and prejudice is as alive as ever.
BROAD thumbs up?
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In the United States, we still view race largely on the black/white binary. We lump individuals’ experiences into those broader categories where they are often overshadowed by the “mainstream” conceptions of “black” or “white.” As this film reveals, there are many nuanced realities within those umbrella terms that are completely missed or swept under the rug. Skin color, especially for darker people, is still a major issue that includes prejudices and biases. Racism is eradicated not only when “white” and “black” are not assumed as connoting superiority or inferiority, but when “whiter” or “blacker” doesn’t imply those statuses either.
WHERE: Cudahy DETAILS:
Library, Room #318!
Followed by Q&A and Call-to-Action!
SPONSORED BY:
i REACT to FILM LUC Chapter and V-Day Club!
FOR MORE INFORMATION CONTACT:
mbrekke@luc.edu!
WED. APR. 8TH @ 8:00 PM
FREE!!
Contributor Guidelines How to be BROAD BROAD Team
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