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Whilst only really mentioned in passing during our discussions, one of the things that was eye-opening to me was the contextualization of the militarized police as a foreign invading power. Up until then, in my ignorance, I had struggled to separate the indigenous struggles at Standing Rock and elsewhere from environmental protests and whilst I was always aware of the ways in which the DAPL prioritized profit over the ecological (including human life), to think of it as a renewed attempt to colonize, oppress, and potentially exterminate indigenous people for capitalistic “progress” helped me relate it to the issues and struggles I had more awareness of and traditional alignment to.
As a result of this, I believe it would be erroneous to view Standing Rock as anything but fundamentally intertwined with other instances of foreign oppression such as those we see in Palestine, those we have seen in the north of Ireland, those the Catalan and Basque peoples of Spain continue to face, those occurring in Venezuela as we speak, and countless other examples the world over.
I was, therefore, pleased when I found this photo with reference to the shared experience of Palestinians and the indigenous peoples at Standing Rock and across the country.
Source: https://www.pymusa.com/from-standing-rock-to-palestine
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For this week’s discussion, I wanted to centre so-called gangster rap that was mentioned a few times in class. For this purpose I chose an image of MC Schoolly D – the original gangster rapper. His 1985 release “P.S.K What Does It Mean?” is widely considered the blueprint of gangster rap and this is why I have chosen this picture when it could so easily be a picture of Ice-T, Big Pun, Big L, Eazy-E, Mobb Deep etc.
The reason I wanted to consider gangster rap once again is because I feel that in most conversations, including the one we had in class, there is a degree of what I would consider snobbery when people think about this sub-genre of hip-hop (apologies if that sounds like I’m attacking anyone). There should always be room for criticism – particularly in relation to elements of homophobia and sexism that can be prevalent – but I have found that traditional criticism of gangster rap often contains aspects of classist language and assumptions within it.
When one finds themselves growing up in particularly dangerous or otherwise socially deprived areas you soon realize that traditional means of asserting status in our capitalist society (e.g. monetary success or academic achievement) are not available to you in the same way which can often lead to a sense of powerlessness that may manifest itself in various widely-reported ways. What gangster rap and other objectively aggressive forms of music can do is provide a sort of alternative or hyperbolic reality where one reclaims their power through expression – this has been explored more fully with heavy metal music and the way that it applies power to supernatural or occultist symbols as a way of reclaiming power that regular society denies listeners and performers. This has been outlined by scholars such as Ryan Moore in his book ‘Sells Like Teen Spirit’. This to say that, profane and violent lyrics and personas expressed through some rap music are not necessarily a conformity to stereotype but rather the only viable means that artists and listeners may find it in themselves to create a vision of the world where we are something other than scum.
The violent words are not about the violent acts but rather the power it gives to those who identify with it and the power it has over those who fear them.
In the words of Schoolly D – “P is for the people who can’t understand”
Source: David Corio/Getty Images
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My photo for this week pertains to a very specific part of the Black Against Empire reading and, in turn, the questions we came to discuss on Friday.
I have chosen an image of the iconic Free Derry Corner located in Derry in the occupied north of Ireland. The mural in the foreground always was, and remains to this day, a rather literal embodiment for people the world over who subscribe to the philosophy that an occupying government is not to be reasoned with but instead be rejected as the illegitimate force that it is. I can see parallels between the ways that Irish Republican communities came to “police themselves, for themselves” (becoming no go zones for police and armed forces of the British State) and the way that Bloom and Martin describe the Black Panther ideology concerning Black communities as colonies and there being a fundamental need for self-policing.
The mural, as edited at the time of the Ferguson unrest, also evokes the sentiment behind Huey Newton’s observation that “there is a great similarity between the occupying army in Southeast Asia and the occupation of our communities by the racist police”. By containing reference to both Palestine and Ferguson, in addition to the struggle in the north of Ireland, in the mural we can see how the struggle against true oppression is not only an internationalist one in ideology but also one that is contingent on addressing inequality everywhere.
In this same vein there is also something to be said about Richard Aoki’s statement about the knowing of oneself before we can be of any use to anyone or anything. I feel that, as Aoki suggested, this awareness of international parallels and willingness to be a good ally for the right reasons (as illustrated by the mural) ultimately comes from a knowing of one’s own struggle – only by knowing why it is that Catholics and Irish Republicans are oppressed in the north of Ireland can one begin to find true solidarity with Palestinian peoples facing oppression from the Israeli State and the black and brown peoples in the Americas.
Photo taken by Giuseppe Milo. Taken on January 4, 2015
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While perhaps diverting from the theme of the week, I have chosen a picture that I feel relates to the concepts of being an adjacent figure to, or perhaps rather a non-conventional manifestation of, the civil rights movement as we assume it to be. In attempting to do so, I felt that Chester Himes is a figure that embodies that role as someone we do not see at rallies, marches, or even making infamous speeches but whose work is nevertheless concerned with and a powerful force for the advancement of the downtrodden. Himes, whilst an intellectual influence on near all black writers (including Baldwin) that followed him, was himself rather revolutionary in the way he wrote about issues concerning African-Americans, women, the labour movement etc. His book Lonely Crusade perhaps is the best example of this radical nature to his work that, while controversial even among elements of his readership that it attempted to represent, is an influential text in the intellectual wing of the movement for African-American advancement. However, what could be deemed most significant about Himes (and what drew the most praise from Baldwin) was his ability to transcend the restrictions placed on black writers hoping to be published – the way he employs allegory in Blind Man with a Pistol deceived many into believing it was little more than a detective story whilst working as a sort of secret message about the struggle to those who were primed to listen. This pragmatic maneuverability laid the foundations for those who would follow in both the literature world and the wider world of civil rights struggle.
Photo: Alex Gotfryd/Corbis
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