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The Worlds of Ntozake ShangeAND DIGITAL STORYTELLING

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Black Girlhood in the Black Sexism Debate

by Clarke 1 Comment

Shange’s piece in The Black Sexism Debate “is not so gd to be born a girl,” makes me think of how black girlhood is described in slave narratives, particularly in Harriet Jacobs’ “Incidents in the Life of a Slave Girl”. Jacobs writes:

When they told me my new-born babe was a girl, my heart was heavier than it had ever been before. Slavery is terrible for men; but it is far more terrible for women. Superadded to the burden common to all, they have wrongs, and sufferings, and mortifications peculiarly their own. (119)

Jacobs writes that slavery is worse for black girls because of their added gender and sexual oppression. Notably, her messages about the sexual violence that enslaved black women and girls experience are written to appeal to white women abolitionist audiences. This is evident in the following passage, as she appeals to the sympathy of the white woman reader:

Pity me, and pardon me, O virtuous reader! You never knew what it is to be a slave; to be entirely unprotected by law or custom; to have the laws reduce you to the condition of a chattel, entirely subject to the will of another…Still, in looking back, calmly, on the events of my life, I feel that the slave woman ought not to be judged by the same standard as others. (86)

Jacobs is hesitant to reveal her lived experiences, so that even the introduction to her narrative is written to convince Northern white women to accept her story, despite its “indecorum.”

As we consider Shange’s unapologetic expression of the lived experiences of black women and girls in “The Black Sexism Debate,” it is important to consider the historical context of her appeal. Shange is writing  in 1978 to a different audience, but she is still in the position of highlighting the sexual violence black girls constantly face. Shange uses new language to describe this violence, language that Jacobs did not possess while writing her own narrative. However, their sentiments are fundamentally the same. Shange writes:

right now being born a girl is to be born threatened/ i dont respond well to threats/ i want being born a girl to be a cause for celebration/ cause for protection & nourishment of our birth-right/ to live freely with passion, knowing no fear/ that our species waz somehow incorrect.

& we are now plagued with rapists & clitorectomies. we pay for being born girls/ but we owe no one anything/ not our labia, not our clitoris, not our lives. we are born girls & live to be women who live our own lives/ to live our lives/

to have/

our lives/

to live.

In this passage, and throughout Shange’s work, she is responding to the historical legacy and trauma of black girl’s experiences with sexual violence, while naming her desires for black girlhood and black girl possibilities.

Shange says Dance! Shange says Write! Keep on pushing on

by Yemi 1 Comment

When Ntozake Shange came to class we had the privilege of the archivist, the scholar, and the creator all in one room. We had someone to guide us through the materials, we had the written work, we had our own motivation to learn, but most importantly we had the living spring, the touchstone to which we could understand, the body to which we could trace back years of experience and extrapolate an abundance of meaning. With this dynamic it seemed like we could solve all problems and address all nuances of the black experience that may have once slipped by us.

Ntozake Shange in front of Barnard gates (10/23/15)

Ntozake Shange in front of Barnard gates (10/23/15)

… (Reflections) … (continue) … (below) …

Much of Shange’s defiance of the Black Arts Movement was because it was for “macho males.” In a similar way she went to alternative dance teachers spaces and because she wanted to learn a dance “other than yoruba.” How did Shange choose which movements to be a part of? Which dance to dance? Was the nature of her defiance simply to move against the grain in every way? I had always wondered about the strategy of rejection and how refusal would effect politics and thus effect history. Shange answered my questions and unearthed the meaning behind her actions by explaining: “When you accept something/ don’t accept, it controls the historical narrative.”

Refusing the Black Arts Movement was a fight for women to not only be considered, but to be recognized as essential to the progress of any black agenda. Learning dances outside of Yoruba, meant that countries which fell outside the demarcations of West Africa could be represented in America and more importantly in the New World, which housed many nations and black aesthetics, that Shange was creating.

The purpose of arts, dance and writing, is to use individual creativity to get to a place where “we [the black collective] can restructure and reconstitute the universe” to be one that is inclusive of us. That is why Shange challenges African Americans to pick up another language, so we are not defaulting to the language of the oppressor. “When you take control of the language, you take control of your life.”

The Spyra piece describes Shange’s Liliane: Resurrection of the Daughter and the way in which purposefully using language is an act of distancing one’s self from the historical narrative of slavery and the chains that identify the black body and black life as without form or distinction: “there’s no words for us (Spyra, 765).” In the same way that language breaks the historical narrative, so does dance. Though Shange distances herself from Yoruba dance because it only upholds one African cultural group, the fact that the dance appears in Black American culture is a victory. The distance between continent of origin and the diaspora is closing. The gap of okra and greens becomes tighter. The arts bridges continents and claims a trajectory of history that was stolen. In this video Shange defines black dance as “how we remember what cannot be said.”

We must always bury our dead twice – why we blog / archive / publish

by Michelle 2 Comments

In an interview with Steven Fullwood, Assistant Curator for the Schomburg Center’s Manuscripts, Acrhives, and Rare Books Division, Fullwood was asked about his latest book Black Gay Genius, an anthology of Joseph Beam’s Work.

Why is the observance of Joseph Beam’s life with an anthology important?

It is never up to mainstream culture to maintain or honor our dead; we must do that. I am specifically talking about black queer people. It is our duty. Joe Beam’s passion to learn, grow and provide an opportunity for others to speak their truths was inspired by the Black Power and Black Arts Movements. If you saw a need for something, you did it or you supported others that did. Beam identified the need and did that. Barbara Smith, writer, feminist, and co-founder of Kitchen Table Press, once wrote an essay about James Baldwin titled “We Must Always Bury Our Dead Twice,” which I took as a responsibility to make visible black queer life. In Black Gay Genius, Smith stated that “burying our dead twice, or three times or more means that we lift up their contributions, their legacy, their reputations and make them known in every way we possibly can” and I agree with her 100%.

This snippet pulled me to look into Barbara Smith’s tribute to James Baldwin. In “We Must Always Bury Our Dead Twice”, Smith describes her experience of attending Baldwin’s funeral on December 8th, 1987 at the Cathedral of St. John the Divine. Baldwin’s existence as a powerful black gay writer had always been important. For Smith, “Baldwin’s homosexuality was also a hopeful sign. If nothing else, it indicated his capacity to radically nonconform, to carve out his own emotional freedom, lessons that I myself would need to learn” (Smith 76). To her disappointment, the many tributes offered to Baldwin, including words from Maya Angelou, Toni Morrison, Amiri Baraka, did not mention the significance of his homosexuality.

If all of who James Baldwin was had been mentioned at his funeral in New York City on December 8, 1987, at the Cathedral of St. John the Divine, it would have gone out on the wire services and been broadcast on the air all over the globe. Not only would this news have geometrically increased the quotient of truth available from the media that day in general, it also would have helped alter, if only by an increment, perceptions in Black communities all over the world about the meaning of homosexuality, communities where those of us who survive Baldwin as Black lesbians and gay men must continue to dwell (Smith 79- 80).

Smith’s call to bury our dead twice is to honor all of who James Baldwin was because the larger community did not. Reading Smith’s second burial of James Baldwin reminds me of the significance of the work we are doing in Kim Hall’s Worlds of Shange class. In this class, we are studying the works and worlds of Shange in order to most justly work with the materials in her archives. It is important that we are blogging, juxtaposing her work with other media, including what reading her poetry and novels invokes in us as her work serves so many people in so many different ways. For Smith, we must always bury our dead twice for the “communities where those of us who survive Baldwin as Black lesbians and gay men must continue to dwell”. This archival work contributes to discourses on the Black Arts Movement, The Black Power Movement, perceptions of black girls, spaces of women of color, etc. We must continue studying and publishing because there will be remakes of for colored girls that do not honor our truth.

In our work this year, I hope that we are “geometrically increasing the quotient of truth available” for black women, women of color, queer women of color, all readers.

the girl-child: finding a way to have/ her life

by Danielle 1 Comment

At first glance, I read “is not so gd” as “g-o-d” vs. “g-o-o-d”. I wonder if the abbreviation is supposed to make us think of god/ the idea of god at all. Does god exist from the moment a girl is born? Or is god a kind of love women must find within themselves? I thought about these questions as I read “is not so gd to be born a girl” closely.

For the first time, I read the slashes as the word “slash”. The imagery of violence in this choreoessay is more potent than any other I’ve read thus far that verbalizing the word “slash” felt relevant. Shange’s pen feels visceral—the slashes like machetes—carving a rhythm of violent protest. Her word choice—abominable, cutting, glass, scissors—conjure images of a war on the “girl-child”.

at least women cd carry things & cook/ but to be born a girl is not good sometimes

At the start, Shange makes a striking comparison between women and girls. Women can “carry things” (they have physical strength) and “cook” (they know how to care for/sustain themselves), while girls cannot; they are old enough to be taken advantage of but too young to fathom how to carry the weight of their experiences. Instead of writing “sex” and/or “rape”, Shange chooses the juvenile “you know what” to invoke a child’s perspective; it can be difficult for a girl/child to imagine a concept too mature for her age even if she has experienced it.

As violent as the choreoessay is, Shange does not sensationalize the physical threats of being born a girl. She defines words, like ‘infibulation’, and works out an equation, “virginity insurance = infibulation” to be matter-of-fact about the reality. Scientific descriptions of the way female genitals are maimed feel akin in tone to ingredients/ steps in a recipe, a recipe for a “girl-child” born to have the ‘child’ murdered. Her delivery is raw and compact. The paragraphs are long, and without any blank spaces Shange sometimes crafts; only the last few lines relieve some space.

we are born girls & live to be women who live our own lives/ to

live our lives/

to have/

our lives/

to live.

We’ve talked a lot in class about how her work often finds magic in the mundane. In this choreoessay, I’m curious whether the structure suggests that the mundane can also be suffocating and painful for a “girl-child” who has no control. Hope seems to live in the future of womanhood  (“we are born girls & live to be women who live our own lives”), a time when girls will have grown able to respond to the threat of their destinies. I’m struck by the slash between “to have” and “our lives”. I think back to Shange’s title/phrase “my pen is a machete”. My interpretation of the ending is that women have the tool to write the connection between having/owning their own lives.

Some questions I still have…in the choreoessay, Shange writes “for some of us & we go crazy/ or never go anyplace”…is crazy juxtaposed with anyplace? Can crazy be a place a person goes to? What does it mean to go crazy?

gd to be born

by Kiani 1 Comment

TW: mention of body mutilation and rape

Over and over we’ve praised Shange for uplifting us a la “I found god in myself & I loved her/ i loved her fiercely” but not enough for staring danger in the face and saying its name. Shange’s piece is not so gd to be born a girl confronts the emotional and physical violence done to women by the world. In The Black Sexism Debate Ntozake Shange writes,

clitorectomies, rape, & incest/ are irrevocable life-deniers/ life-stranglers & disrespectful of natural elements/ i wish these things wdnt happen anywhere anymore/ then i cd say it waz gd to be born a girl everywhere/ even though gender is not destiny/ right now being born a girl is to be born threatened/ i dont respond well to threats/ i want being born a girl to be a cause for celebration/ cause for protection & nourishment of our birthright/ to live freely with passion, knowing no fear/ that our species waz somehow incorrect.

This passage allows us to interact with the good and bad genesis of the works we’ve been engaging with this semester. It’s interesting that this hard subject matter is treated in the same way as luxurious baths, or cooking greens, or happenings outside of a window. They are treated as matter-of-fact.  We stare at the painful words on the screen and swallow hard as we consider their implications. It’s not pretty and it’s not warming. It’s sobering in its cry. Shange doesn’t ask us to confront the truth for truth’s sake, though. She asks us to confront it in confidence that we will use it to heal. To understand what is wrong and what is right.

The piece ends indicative of Shange’s decision to recognize the pain in growth and healing,

we are born girls & live to be women who live our own lives/ to
live our lives/
to have/
our lives
to live.

The usage of language, specifically gendered language, is interesting in considering people of trans, gender non-conforming, and queer identities feeling seen by this piece. I chose to leave “a girl” out of the title as I am grappling with the implications of the word in a natal context. I wonder, what does it mean to be born a girl? And to live out that girlhood?

 

nia ashley in reflection

by Nia 0 Comments

In my posts I tend to close read Shange’s text to extract themes about the citizens of the African diaspora. I pick up to three themes present in the text we read that week and combine Shange’s text with my own interpretations and opinions of those topics. I’ve raised the issue of the imbalanced politics in interracial intimacy and how its perceived, the importance of poets as orators in the African diaspora, and how Shange “reconstructs language and culture to allow colonized and oppressed people, particularly Black people, to express emotions, discuss experiences, and commiserate with others.” As the semester has progressed, I’ve gotten freer with my forms, more willing to digress from the straight analytical form and embrace more of Shange’s poetics. The one thing I do want to revisit in my work is actually not in my posts, but in my “nappy edges” presentation. I feel that I raised some ideas about the projects and goals of Shange’s work that are worth revisiting and exploring.

I often struggle to write a post on the days that I did not fully connect with the text, especially before class. Reading Shange in my isolation I am often confused or conflicted, I don’t know what to think, what I think, or how to articulate it. It is only after class that I begin to understand the text and developed concrete and coherent thoughts about the work. I think that is visible in the posts I did for texts I did not connect with as strongly as others.