Afro-Pessimism
Sexton, Jared. “Afro-Pessimism: The Unclear Word.” Rhizomes: Cultural Studies in Emerging Knowledge, no. 29 (2016). https://doi.org/10.20415/rhiz/029.e02.
In Jared Sexton’s article “Afro-Pessimism: The Unclear Word,” he describes Afro-Pessimism as a way of understanding how black identities have been left out of important theories and ideas throughout history. He says it is a “critical discourse” that looks into the long-lasting effects of slavery and how these have kept black people down in society and politics.
Sexton explains that Afro-Pessimism digs into the “enduring ramifications of slavery” and the ongoing issue of racism. This view, heavily influenced by Frank B. Wilderson III, suggests that black individuals are treated as if they are not fully human within our society’s legal and political rules, which have roots in slavery. He uses the phrase “ontological death” to describe this idea, meaning that in these frameworks, black people are seen as existing outside of what is normally considered human.
He also points out that Afro-Pessimism makes us face some hard truths about how limited our efforts to end racial inequality really are. It questions whether the usual ways of fighting racial discrimination are enough to tackle the deep-rooted unfairness in our society. Reading Sexton’s discussion makes me think more about how academic studies on race relate to the real-world experiences of those who face racial injustice. It pushes me to think critically about how we view racial progress and the fight for justice. This journal entry helps me deepen my understanding of Afro-Pessimism and rethink the history and nature of racial justice.
Manifestos
Foulkes, Julia L. Modern Bodies: Dance and American Modernism from Martha Graham to Alvin Ailey. Chapel Hill: The University of North Carolina Press, 2002. Accessed January 26, 2024. http://ebookcentral.proquest.com/lib/davidson/detail.action?docID=427126.
In her book on American modern dance, Julia L. Foulkes talks about how important “manifestos” were in changing the art and culture scenes. She explains that a “manifesto” is usually a public statement of what someone intends to do or believes. In her story, these manifestos aren’t just written statements, but also actions and performances that set new trends in dance and how people express themselves in the early 20th century.
Foulkes gives an example of a special event in 1922 when Ruth St. Denis gave Anna Pavlova a silver “loving cup.” This wasn’t just a gift; it was a big cultural moment. It showed that American dancers were starting to make a mark in a scene that Europeans used to dominate. Dancers like St. Denis, Isadora Duncan, and Loïe Fuller broke away from the strict ways of classical ballet to start modern dance, which was all about being free and showing emotions.
Foulkes thinks the term “manifesto” really fits these kinds of performances because they were like bold statements of new ideas in art. They were about moving away from old traditions to create a dance style in America that focused more on telling stories and showing feelings than on perfect technique.
This look into how “manifestos” work in dance shows how powerful and important these bold actions can be in changing the rules of art. It’s really interesting to see how a simple act like the one by St. Denis can lead to a whole new movement that changes how people see and do dance in America. It makes me wonder about “manifestos” in other areas—like, how do single acts or statements start new movements or change the way we think? How does knowing about these moments help us understand how things change in different fields?
Articulate Matter
Susan Leigh Foster, “Choreographies of Protest,” Theatre Journal 55, no. 3 (October 2003): 395, https://www.jstor.org/stable/25069277.
In her book “Choreographies of Protest,” Susan Leigh Foster talks about something she calls “articulate matter,” which is how she sees the body’s role in protest movements. She believes that the body is really powerful in protests because it can send messages just by being there and doing things. Foster argues that using our bodies in protests is both a way to persuade people and to stand firm against something. She says “By envisioning the body as capable of both persuasion and obstinate recalcitrance…I hope to demonstrate the central role that physicality plays in constructing both individual agency and sociality.”
Reading Foster’s ideas really helped me see how complex and smart the use of the body in protests can be. By calling the body “articulate matter,” she shows that physical actions in protests are not just simple tactics; they’re powerful symbols of fighting back. This makes me appreciate more how actions like these help shape the social and political scenes they’re part of. She talks about how in the 1960s, people at coffee shop sit-ins were using their bodies as “articulate matter.” Just by sitting and eating, they were challenging the racial norms of the time. Foster points out that these protesters weren’t just there; they were actively spreading a message about equality and respect for everyone.
Queerness as Horizon
Muñoz, José Esteban. Cruising Utopia: The Then and There of Queer Futurity. New York and London: New York University Press, 2009.
In his book “Cruising Utopia,” José Esteban Muñoz talks about the idea of “Queerness as Horizon.” He thinks of queerness not just as who someone is or a certain state of being, but as a place full of possibilities. He says, “we may never touch queerness, but we can feel it as the warm illumination of a horizon imbued with potentiality.” This quote really shows that he sees queerness as always reaching for something better in the future, something that’s not just stuck in today.
Muñoz argues that queerness shouldn’t just be seen in the way things are now, which he calls a presentist view. He believes queerness should push us to go beyond today’s limits and norms, giving us a way to think about future possibilities and to question what’s wrong with how things are now.
The phrase “Queerness as Horizon” is a key part of Muñoz’s bigger argument that queerness should help us imagine a better world. This idea is about moving away from current restrictions and heading towards a future that’s not defined yet. By thinking this way, Muñoz challenges the normal view that limits queer identities to certain behaviors or cultural groups. Instead, he shows queerness as something that can change society and go beyond simple labels. As I keep studying this semester, this view of queerness will help me look at other important concepts by focusing on what could be in the future, the potential for change, and how we might rethink social norms..
Victim Art
Arlene Croce, “A Critic at Bay: Discussing the Undiscussable,” New Yorker 70, no. 43 (December 26, 1994).
In her article “Discussing the Undiscussable” from the New Yorker in 1994, Arlene Croce talks about Bill T. Jones’s show “Still/Here.” She thinks this performance, where people with serious illnesses talk about their lives, is more than just a play—it’s like a representation of being a victim that makes us rethink what art really is. Croce argues that by showing real suffering, Jones’s work goes beyond what normal art reviews can handle, turning it into what she calls “victim art.”
Croce believes that including real pain in a performance changes it into a show about victimhood, which she thinks is like a widespread misunderstanding. This, she says, messes up what art is really about because it focuses more on being useful to society than on being beautiful to look at. Croce uses the term “victimhood in art” in a pretty negative way. She thinks this type of art plays on people’s emotions and reduces the importance of critical thinking, making the art about the pain of the people in it rather than its own artistic value.
This idea makes us think more about what role art should have in society and where we draw the line between art, therapy, and activism. While Croce believes that turning real pain into a performance lessens the importance of art, others might say that it actually broadens our understanding of what art can do, especially in how it can speak to and reflect complex issues in society. This discussion is important because it shows how art and its critiques are changing, especially when it comes to sensitive topics. The idea of “victimhood in art” can really make us think about what art is supposed to do and whether there’s a point where art stops being art and becomes something totally different.
Indigenous Depopulation
Bartolomé de Las Casas, A Short Account of the Destruction of the Indies, trans. and ed. Nigel Griffin, intro. Anthony Pagden (Penguin Classics, 1992).
In his book “A Short Account of the Destruction of the Indies,” Bartolomé de las Casas gives a chilling depiction of how quickly and violently the native populations in the Americas decreased after the Spanish arrived. He notes that in Hispaniola alone, the number of indigenous people dropped from about three million to just two hundred. Las Casas attributes this drastic decline to a deadly mix of war, slavery, and disease introduced by the Europeans, calling it the result of “unjust, cruel, bloody and tyrannical war” driven by the greed for wealth and resources of the colonizers.
The phrase “indigenous depopulation” is key to understanding the devastating effects of European colonialism on native communities. While it might sound like a natural decrease, Las Casas and later scholars argue that it was an intentional act of genocide. This change in viewpoint is essential for interpreting historical events accurately and recognizing the biases often present in mainstream historical narratives. As I study Las Casas’ writings further, I’m struck by the stark difference between the celebrated “discovery” of the Americas and the brutal experiences of the original inhabitants. “Indigenous depopulation” doesn’t just refer to a reduction in numbers; it also covers a broad spectrum of human rights violations, showing a systematic approach to colonization that put economic benefits above human rights.
By using “indigenous depopulation” as a focus, I aim to look into how current discussions on historical justice and reconciliation could tackle or make up for these past wrongs. Comparing old narratives with their modern interpretations will shed light on how colonialism’s legacy still impacts indigenous communities around the globe.
Utopian Performative
Dolan, Jill. Utopia in Performance: Finding Hope at the Theater. University of Michigan Press, 2005. http://ebookcentral.proquest.com/lib/davidson/detail.action?docID=3414662.
In “Utopia in Performance,” Jill Dolan introduces the idea of the “utopian performative,” where moments in theater give the audience a glimpse of a better world through shared emotions of hope and connection. Dolan explains, “utopian performatives describe small but profound moments in which performance calls the attention of the audience in a way that lifts everyone slightly above the present, into a hopeful feeling of what the world might be like if every moment of our lives were as emotionally voluminous, generous, aesthetically striking, and intersubjectively intense.”
She goes on to say that these moments are more than just artistic; they encourage the audience to think differently about social relationships and aim for better engagement in society. This aligns with the broader role of theater as not only a place to imagine a utopia but to actually feel it, even if it’s brief. This shared experience helps break down feelings of isolation by connecting individuals to a larger, emotional community story.
Thinking about this, it’s intriguing how theater and performance, as Dolan suggests, act as a means of “doing” that brings about change through the collective emotional power of the audience. This shakes up the usual idea of just watching passively and instead, sees the audience as active contributors to a collective vision of a better future. Her take on “utopian performatives” could really change how we see the role of art and performance in driving societal changes, highlighting the role of emotions and feelings in political and social discussions.
Posthuman
Eshun, Kodwo. More Brilliant Than The Sun: Adventures In Sonic Fiction. London: Quartet Books Limited, 1998.
In his book, “Synthesizing the Omniverse,” Kodwo Eshun explores the term “posthuman,” especially in relation to musician Sun Ra’s beliefs and style. Eshun explains that Sun Ra moves away from typical Christian ideas of human salvation and adopts a posthuman identity. Instead of following the humanistic values found in soul music, which stem from a Christian belief in universal love, Sun Ra chooses a viewpoint that respects ancient tyranny over freedom theology. As Eshun puts it, “Sun Ra breaks violently with Christian redemption, with soul’s aspirational deliverance, in favor of a posthuman godhead.”
Sun Ra’s take on the posthuman doesn’t just involve turning away from humanism but also redefines what it means to be human. He does this by identifying with Pharaohs and ancient tyrants and aligning himself with a cosmic and mythical story that goes beyond ordinary and modern human worries. Eshun notes that for Sun Ra, being posthuman means wanting to be alien, choosing “Egypt over Israel, the alien over the human, the future over the past.” This fits with Sun Ra’s musical and philosophical journey where “Ancient Africans are alien Gods from a despotic future,” and where the past isn’t just a historical timeline but a mythic realm that can be reshaped and reclaimed through sound fiction and performance.
According to Eshun, Sun Ra’s idea of the posthuman questions the usual stories of human progress and freedom that are usually key to civil rights discussions. Instead, it suggests a more complicated, interconnected relationship between mythology, power, and identity. This rethinking extends the limits of the posthuman as a philosophical concept and proposes a deep reconsideration of identity and existence that goes beyond traditional humanist limits, making the posthuman not just a theoretical future but a powerful narrative force that challenges what it means to be human.
