Migration and Human Rights

I've been working on this piece for the past couple weeks. I am responding to an article published in The Tribune Insight (Nassau, Bahamas) on Jan 12th about Haitian immigration (if you want a copy, let me know, I can email it to you).

Trying to figure out the best way to respond has weighed on me... because it is so important and because it was/is hard to write. While I wrote this as a letter to editors of newspapers in Nassau, I plan to continue the writing and turn it into a longer article. And so I see it as a work in progress... there is so much more to say about these issues and concerns. I hope, like others, to create more dialogue and more exchange and more space for us to talk about these issues -- especially my fellow Bahamians and the rest of my Caribbean brothers and sisters.



The Tribune; The Nassau Guardian; The Bahama Journal

Dear Editors,

In response to the recent and ongoing debates about Haitian immigration in the Bahamas, I urge my fellow Bahamians to think about these issues from a place/space of justice and humanity. More specifically, in direct response to John Marquis’ article on the 12th of January in The Tribune’s Insight, I offer a challenge to his racist colonial engagement with history and culture. As a Caribbean scholar, writer, and cultural critic, I feel a great sense of obligation to enter these debates. While I live and work abroad, my spirit is also at home. The work I do as a teacher and community worker is rooted in the struggle for liberation of all people, especially people of African descent and communities who are marginalized. In the university courses I teach, I often discuss issues concerning immigration broadly, particularly in the Caribbean context. I also share my ideas and feelings about these issues at home and abroad, mostly among friends, family, and fellow writers, artists, and scholars. But I have been too silent about the experience of Haitians in the Bahamas in my writing; hence, why I write this letter, knowing full well that you, the editors of our Bahamian newspapers, may not publish it. I know this because other letters in response to these debates, challenging John Marquis particularly, have not been published. But I write this letter anyway—to you and to my fellow Bahamians, in support of the rights of Haitian migrants and Haitian Bahamians.

We in the Bahamas traffic in ugly and hateful language when speaking about Haitians and Haitian Bahamians. Our government policies on “illegal” immigration and the detention of Haitian migrants in the Bahamas is too often inhumane and violates the most basic notions of human rights. We criminalize and deport Haitian migrants who seek refuge in the face of grave danger and the social and political unrest in their country. We depend upon the labour of Haitian migrants everyday, even as we deny them legal rights and/or status to be in the country. We even deny rights to the children of migrants, who are by birth Bahamian citizens. But due to an outdated law that grants automatic citizenship only to those who have Bahamian parents, many Haitian Bahamians remain stateless in their own country because of the difficulty in securing their status. They (like all children of migrants in the Bahamas) have to apply for citizenship at 18—which can take years, especially if one does not have access to legal help. On top of the legal challenges that Haitians and Haitian Bahamians deal with, they are socially stigmatized—from slurs and racial stereotypes to poor treatment at our clinics and hospitals, Haitian people bear much blame for a variety of social ills in Bahamian society. When times are rough, tourism is down, crime is on the rise, and/or people are getting laid off, Haitians are the scapegoats for our troubles, crime, and strapped resources.

I have heard too often from my fellow Bahamians that Haitians are “different” from us, that they are “violent,” and that “they taking over.” I respond by trying to reason with people and call for a sense of humanity. I point out the obvious: that we as people are connected, as Caribbeans, as neighbours, as having common histories and ancestry. But my conversations halt or take a different turn once I indicate my belief in the rights of Haitian migrants to seek political asylum and the rights of Haitian Bahamians to their birthright of citizenship. Sometimes we have arguments, and other times, people say things like “they don’t belong here” or “they need to go back to their country” or “we can’t help and why should we.” I respond with a slew of reasons why we should help and why they do belong here, grounded in human rights, a sense of justice, and also in history. During these moments, it occurs to me that part of the problem here is our lack of knowledge—what we don’t know about the related and connecting histories between Haiti and the Bahamas, and what we don’t know about the region and global relations of power, and how all these are linked to the effects of slavery and colonialism. Some of what we don’t know is the lack in our education systems; some of what we don’t know is because of silence and fear.

And sadly, some of what we don’t know is miseducation, coming from the very sources that are suppose to keep us informed; case in point, Marquis’ imperialist and white colonial view of Haitian and colonial history, which he uses to “prove” his point about the “dangers” of Haitian “illegal” migration into the Bahamas. He uses a very skewed and racist vision of history to support his unfounded argument that Haitians “introduce a violent strain in Bahamian society” and that we come from “different tribal backgrounds,” which is frankly ridiculous and wrong. In the article, he repeats an analogy that he has used before and insists on using again—Haitians entering the Bahamas is like pitbulls mixing with potcakes. By comparing both Haitians and Bahamians to dogs, Marquis participates in a long colonial tradition, started during slavery, one that sees Black people as animals (i.e. scientific racism), and one that views creolization (the mixing of African & European people, languages, & culture) as contamination. Miscegenation (racial mixing) was a threat to colonial white rule during slavery, but European planters and slave owners also depended upon and encouraged the rape of Black women to control the enslaved population, as well as to “produce” and “breed” more bodies for slavery. Marquis claims to have studied Haitian history, yet it is clear he only looks at history and politics from a white colonizer’s perspective, while leaving out and ignoring so much. Marquis’ words are dangerous (as Helen Klonaris has expressed already in her letter to the editor on January 25th), not only because of his racist and imperial gaze on history and culture, but also because he creates and sustains hysteria with his words. He feeds on people’s fear of difference and manipulates the anxieties that Bahamians have about the economy, crime, and migrants straining resources. He predicts that the Bahamas will be “ruined” because of “illegal immigration” in just 10 to 15 years, and he uses false claims about Haiti and Haitian people to support his prediction. He relies on distorted colonial views of history to form his opinion about the current socio-political climate in Haiti and the Bahamas.

We must silence these false claims and inaccuracies. We must do our own research of Haiti, the Bahamas, and the rest of the Caribbean. We should think about how many of us have migrated and sought refuge (for education, for work, for family, for love, for better opportunities) abroad. We should think about how many of us desire to move and live abroad. We should ask ourselves how we want and expect to be treated if/when we migrate. We should really think about what it must feel like to have to flee/escape one’s own home because one has no other choices. To do this, we must think about migration rights and human rights—perhaps migration as a human right. We ought to ask each other questions and uncover the silences and culture of intolerance that bind us. And then maybe we can face certain truths and histories, reflecting on how close we are to Haiti and how long our stories as places, colonies, and countries have crossed.

We need to remember that Haitians have LONG migrated into the Bahamas and have LONG time been a part of the Bahamas and Bahamian culture. If one supports migration rights and human rights, then we cannot support how our government deports Haitians, and we cannot support the statelessness of Haitian Bahamians. We should call on our government to offer more assistance to Haiti. We need to recognize the problems in Haiti are our problems too – people are suffering. We should not discuss the “return” of Haitian migrants until more efforts are made to truly support and help free Haiti from the chains of debt and poverty (these efforts should be led by the Bahamas along with other countries in the region). This should not be seen as a handout, but as genuine regional solidarity and public acknowledgment of our commonalities and complicated histories.

Haiti does not exist in a vacuum. It did not suddenly become destitute or mismanage resources on its own. There are many reasons: tied to all the ways in which global capitalism works and how the Global South feeds/sustains and keeps wealthy the Global North. There are many reasons why Haiti is in political and economic crisis, why it remains the poorest country in the Western Hemisphere. Some of these reasons have to do with the violent dictatorships and corrupt governments since the 1960s, BUT many have to do with regimes of power (like IMF & World Bank), United States imperialism and their support of dictatorships, and a long history of interference. A history and silenced past too long and complicated to recount here, but I offer a list to begin/open the conversation: The Haitian Revolution in 1804 sparked intense fear across the Caribbean, in the United States, Latin America, and Europe. As a result, Europe and the United States worked to destabilize Haiti; to name a few examples: France demanded 150 million in gold to recognize Haiti as a nation; the U.S. Occupation of Haiti from 1915-1934; Haiti not fully recognized as a republic until well into the 1900s; United States through their Munroe Doctrine continuously interfering in Haiti’s economic and political landscape for their own military and resource interests for over one hundred years.

Haiti like the rest of the (post)colonial world has a context – slavery, colonialism, and new forms of colonialism. This historical/political/social context must be taken into account as we try to understand the present, and as we work towards a better future. A future where we embrace each other regardless of our differences, a future where we love and support each other, a future where we can all be human and free.

Regards,
Angelique V. Nixon
Postdoctoral Fellow, Africana Studies, New York University
January 31, 2009, New York, NY

for those who do justice & love

The Inauguration was so uplifting and incredibly special... and while I wish I could have been in D.C. for the big day or surrounded by my peeps and loved ones at a viewing party... a part of me is content that I watched it alone, feeling reflective, having time to let it all sink in... and wash over me. And so now I can write it down and really engage in my thoughts. While it would probably be most appropriate to talk about Obama's speech, which I thought was really good with some surprising moments & expected moments, I want to talk about the benediction and the poem.

First the poem by Elizabeth Alexander - "Praise song for the Day" - at first, I was disappointed, I felt it was too subtle, too broad, not culturally specific enough. I wanted more fire, more energy, something more. I was waiting for this during the reading, as her beautiful metaphors ran through my mind, I was waiting for her to take me somewhere and leave me feeling moved by her message of love. I was not moved until I read it on the page. Now that I have had time to reflect on the piece, I feel its power, its subtle rage, but I still wanted more specificity. I do like that she talks about words and the everyday: "We encounter each other in words, words spiny or smooth, whispered or declaimed; words to consider, reconsider." I like that she speaks of people fixing things that need to be fixed, people wanting more, wanting better lives. I like that she says people are making things - music - "with a pair of wooden spoons on an oil drum with cello, boom box, harmonica, voice." Subtle in its references to Black cultural production, yet somehow inclusive... praising creativity & daily work.

I am happy that she reminds us to "Say it plain, that many have died for this day. Sing the names of the dead who brought us here, who laid the train tracks, raised the bridges, picked the cotton and the lettuce, built brick by brick the glittering edifices they would then keep clean and work inside of." For me, this not only an important (re)memory of the labor by African Americans during enslavement, reconstruction, and segregation, but it's also diasporic in its scope (for Africans enslaved in the Americas and their descendants), and casts a wide net to include the many immigrant communities (particularly Asian & Latino/a) that labored and continue to labor in the United States.

I love that she uses "praise song", which is not only an African poetic form, but it also resonates with people who are religious and/or spiritual. I like that it's a "praise song" that is somber as it calls for love to be the root & will for change. But it's a praise song, and I didn't feel that in the poem or the reading. But I find it radical that she asks us to imagine if love was the mightiest of words, what if love was more than marriage, family, and nation... love beyond comfort... asking us to think about love as a radical act. Perhaps this is too touchy-feely for some, perhaps this is too simple, but maybe it needs to be that, maybe we need to start looking at the most obvious solutions... maybe she calls us to create the change we want in our individual lives, in the everyday. (Clearly connecting with Obama's call for being the change we want in the world.)

Surely there is too much hate in the world... so I ain't mad at her for her call of love, her asking us to think about love. I see "love that casts a widening pool of light" as healthy love... love that is not weighted down with obligation or expectations or pain. Maybe this is all too idealistic, and for sure, my cynical self screams out - we need more than love! - and yes, we do need more than love, but I'm willing to start with love.

I've been thinking a lot about how to stay in the struggle, being active in community work and service, being a writer/teacher/scholar/poet, how do we stay healthy, how do we avoid burnout? I feel like we have to take care of ourselves first, we have to stay healthy. Then maybe our work will be more productive, our minds/bodies/spirits will feel renewed & sustained. And that way we can better organize & recruit, and keep ourselves & our comrades/partners/friends in the struggle against oppression, fighting against racism, sexism, homophobia, xenophobia, classism, and patriarchy - in all the ways that we can do that - in whatever our work is - from the day to day experience, from direct action & campaigns to teaching, writing, & community organizing.

So this brings me to Revered Joseph Lowery's benediction, (the best prayer ever) which I did not expect to love as much as I do. First of all, he started with a verse from the Negro National Anthem - so beautiful, so perfect for the moment! And second, he was brilliant and radical in his references to history and his call for change & justice. And third, he made it ever so clear that we ain't there yet, that we have work to do. I quote at length pieces from the prayer that I want to remember and reflect on:

And now, Lord, in the complex arena of human relations, help us to make choices on the side of love, not hate; on the side of inclusion, not exclusion; tolerance, not intolerance.

And as we leave this mountain top, help us to hold on to the spirit of fellowship and the oneness of our family. Let us take that power back to our homes, our workplaces, our churches, our temples, our mosques, or wherever we seek your will.
...
With your hands of power and your heart of love, help us then, now, Lord, to work for that day when nations shall not lift up sword against nation, when tanks will be beaten into tractors, when every man and every woman shall sit under his or her own vine and fig tree and none shall be afraid, when justice will roll down like waters and righteousness as a mighty stream.

Lord, in the memory of all the saints who from their labors rest, and in the joy of a new beginning, we ask you to help us work for that day when black will not be asked to get in back, when brown can stick around ... when yellow will be mellow ... when the red man can get ahead, man; and when white will embrace what is right. That all those who do justice and love mercy say Amen.

I appreciate his acknowledgment of different religions and spiritual beliefs. I love his call for tolerance and justice. And finally, I am still trippin over how he ended it with such a specific Black cultural reference, and how much it worked for me, and how much I loved it - mostly cause he kept it in the future tense. He wants us to recognize the work we still have to do and understand that just because we have the first Black President of the United States, it don't mean racial injustice, prejudice, or racism goes away. I love that he made this Black vernacular saying so multi-racial, without taking away its multiple and deep meanings for Black people, while opening it up for people of color.

I felt like he built a bridge with his prayer and hopefully made people think about the work we still have to do. We need to push the boundaries of all that divide us, while recognizing & embracing difference, as the great Audre Lorde says, so that we may build strong alliances. This means we cannot ignore race, gender, class, sexuality, religion, nationality, etc. This means we have to do some hard work. It means we have to challenge each other and hold each other accountable, especially our leaders. I was happy to hear Obama say that his administration would be held accountable. I was very happy to hear him acknowledge that rich countries cannot ignore their relationships to poor/developing countries. I was pleased to hear his confidence and determination to make tough decisions - asking us to be a part of the change we want.

I've been curious about how the Obama administration would position itself on civil rights issues & other issues - their agenda is up on the web and very intriguing. I like the policy of transparency, use of technology, and how it seems that they want to keep people in the know about what they do. Time will tell, and these are only items/issues on an agenda... But I'm tryin to keep hope alive...

Check out the new white house agenda on civil rights

I want some of these to be more progressive, but I guess we have to start somewhere... and these actions are way past due...

So I'm sendin Obama a conscious vibration for his first 100 days! and for the next four years! Let's see what changes he makes and hold his administration accountable for what they say & what they need to do.

taking flight

I dream 2009 to be a year of flight... to be a year of movement and completion. I want to wake up everyday with less fear, I want to sleep at night with accomplishment. I want to feel settled, but at the same time, I desire the freedom to move and travel as I need.

I have many goals, all the things & more that I want to finish, accomplish, and bring to fruition. Sometimes, I can't sleep, feeling all this urgency to do and be... This year I want to stop sometimes and simply enjoy... the rushing and urgency has its place - it gets me in the zone for my work, for my writing. But sometimes, I need space and time and me to fit in between. Being still is incredibly hard for me.

I feel the need to be still this year... to let what needs to happen, happen, but at the same time, directing my flight, and also letting the ancestors guide me.

"all I want is my body"

I wrote this poem in the Tongues Afire creative writing workshop. I've been wanting to write this poem for a very long time but I didn't have the words, the courage, da wibe... but the workshop, our synergy, and incredibly powerful space helped me to write this. I also have been sitting in this fantastic course at NYU on Race, Gender, & Sexuality with Gayatri Gopinath - (I presented my research in her class and ended up sitting in for several more class sessions because it was so thought provoking and relavent to my work) - and the readings and conversations added other dimensions to what I had already been grappling with in my head about the body and gender and sexuality. So anyway, here it is:


all I want is my body


I carved in my body
memories of rape and coercion
control and no-other-choice sexual relations

spirits of Black women, Brown women, Yellow women,
women of color, sing to me of blood and torn tissue, and
split psyches, remember, what I had to do, was made to do

breeding (of slaves), denial (of rape), benefits (of war)
unfree being capital, non/being, object of desire and hate
crossing borders woven inside my body, then ripped and divided

I carved on my skin
(re)memories of present and past, out of rhythms and vibrations,
haunted, fibrous sketches of time, spread across earthmemory

Slavery, Internment, Reservations, and so many Wars and Occupations,
UrbanGhettoPoorYouthWomenColoredBlackLatinaWelfareTrapped
RacialSteroes
KoreaVietnamHaitiGuatemalaCiudadJuarezZimbabweCongoIraq
SudanAfghanistan

I see women of color, praying and organizing
I see women raising fists, voices, & pens against men, power, & state
I see women loving women, as radical, against these silences
(taking back my body)

odds & ends

The end of a year & beginning of a new one bring much reflection. I have so much to be thankful for this year - graduating, the postdoc at NYU, and the time/space I've needed for my writing, research, & creativity these past four months in New York. And on top of all the intellectual activity at NYU that I've been a part of this fall semester, I've also been very fortunate to be in this amazing creative writing workshop with R. Erica Doyle for the past two months - called Tongues Afire at The Audre Lorde Project in Brooklyn.

I have learned so much... and I feel I have truly improved my creative writing, process, & craft in many ways. We ended the workshop with two readings, which were very inspring, beautiful, and powerful. I feel so grateful to have shared work and space with my brilliant fellow writers in Tongues Afire... I wrote several new poems, revised quite a few others, and started a new project, a collage / graphic novella thingy. I submitted a number of poems for review and possible publication. And I've been writing on my blog somewhat regularly, and one of my goals for the new year is to write weekly on my blog... at the very least biweekly. We'll see how that goes :) I will be teaching and so my schedule will be more hectic... but it will be hella cold in NY so I may become a shut-in outside of teaching and work :-)

I'm home now for the xmas holiday... enjoying time in the warmth, great food, and my crew of family-friends... re-connecting and catchin up wit' all my peoples... remembering all the things I love and being reminded of all the things that are difficult and painful... nevertheless, really happy to be home.

more musings to come & will be sharing some of my new poems very soon on this space of conscious vibration.

p.s. Two of my poems have appeared in the Journal of Caribbean Literatures (Volume 5 Number 3). This is the summer issue, but I recently received my hard copy of the journal about a month ago - so exciting to see my poetry in print! It is so very inspiring and also a much needed incentive to keep getting my poetry out there.

reality check on thanksgiving

love this cartoon! It's funny, ironic, & flips the script.

So let us remember on this day, even as we enjoy time off, even as we spend time with our families, that if we live in the United States, we live on stolen land. "Thanksgiving" should be a day of national mourning.

It should be day that we remember the genocide of Native Americans, a day that we remember the Native American struggle and the larger indigenous movements (for land, rights, and resources) across the planet. This should be the time we remember... the history we may never know... and take the time to learn & read up on what we don't know.

in the struggle,
Angelique

on being invisible

The last few weeks, post-election, have been intriguing & disturbing to me for a number of reasons: the blame game for prop 8 in California with Black people as the scapegoats; the media trying to talk about this issue but failing miserably (for the most part) & pitting 'Blacks' against 'Gays'; and the invisibility of Black LGBTQ people in these debates.

After I read Kai Wright's thought-provoking article "Blaming Blacks for Prop 8" on The Root, I immediately sent it to my friends and posted it on my facebook profile because I thought it did an excellent job of calling out both racism in white LGBTQ communities and homophobia in Black communities, while at the same time pointing out the obvious - there are LGBTQ Black people. I want to take this point further and not only support Wright's call for white LGBTQ communities to do a better job of reaching out to people of color AND also for Black communities to really discuss sexuality, BUT ALSO suggest here that we need to talk about what "civil rights" mean at this particular moment and at the same time deal with the reality of homophobia.

In order to do this work, we must stop referring to civil rights as what Black people have "won" on the one hand and what LGBTQ are still fighting for on the other. This makes it seem as if the struggle for civil rights (for Black people) is over - when this is clearly not the case - AND this does not account for people who experience multiple forms of oppression (i.e. for example, being Black, female, queer, and working class). If we talk about what the struggle for civil rights continue to mean for communities of color and marginalized groups around the United States (and other parts of the world), then we can build/create much needed collaborations (building alliances across difference as the great Audre Lorde says) and make spaces for people who exist in two or more communities.

To do this work, we must also talk about different kinds of oppression and highlight that all oppression is not equal oppression, nor do systems of oppression operate the same. Racism, sexism, classism, and homophobia are NOT the same. Certainly, systems of oppression are inter-connected and feed on each other. But there are differences that must be acknowledged (and privilege must also be recognized, whether it be white, male, class, light-skin, or heterosexual).

If we think about what it means for ALL people to be full and effective citizens in the world (and in the nations where we live), then it may help us to push the boundaries and breakdown the divides that separate us. We need to challenge ourselves and our communities to talk seriously about race, gender, class, sexuality, religion, and nationality. We all have multiple identities even if/when we identify more closely with one over another. And so we may (and will) disagree about many things in terms of our beliefs and ideologies. But is there a way for us who have common & progressive goals and visions for the future to meet, talk, debate, and organize? Let's say we want to fight for jobs, health care, safer neighborhoods, and good schools, then don't we find a way to work across the divides of say religion, race, gender, and/or culture?

Many organizations and communities do this kind of work - meaning set aside differences in terms of beliefs/morals/religion and fight for a specific cause or the bigger picture (human rights, social justice, equality). But this doesn't happen enough and morality along with belief systems can be mobilized to take away rights and work against equality. As a number of articles have pointed out in the past couple weeks, religion and various churches have played major roles in the passing of anti-gay legislation around the country. And some Black communities in particular tend to use religion (Christianity & the Bible) as the reason for homophobia.

So this brings me to some big questions: How can Black communities effectively talk about sexuality, homophobia, and same-sex marriage? (particularly in the face of more pressing issues of education, prison, policing, economic crisis, and the daily realities of racism)? How do we stop the silence and denial? How do we begin the conversation among people who have different beliefs? Can someone be Black, Christian, and straight AND be a LGBTQ ally? Can we all support same-sex marriage as a civil & legal right regardless of our religious or moral beliefs? Can someone be Black and LGBTQ and not "believe" in gay marriage? BUT perhaps still support it in legal terms?

How do those of us who are both Black and LGBTQ become visible? Do we have to be like Wanda Sykes and come out in public ways, meaning in our own communities and families? (Wanda is a celebrity, so her "public" is arguably larger than ours.) Can we be safe and visible? How do we talk about hate crimes and violence happening to 'visible' Black (and of color) gay men, lesbians, and transgenders? Why are so many of these acts of violence coming from Black men? And finally how do we talk about these issues in a diasporic context (thinking about the Caribbean and Africa - with different yet similar issues)?

These are the many questions and debates going on in my head... I have no answers, only more questions... hoping for open & honest conversations that will create and sustain acceptance of difference. I know it will be a struggle. And I struggle with how to be in this struggle as a Black Queer woman who may not be 'visibly' Black & Queer to most. I struggle with how to describe my feminist ideologies and beliefs that sustain me and keep me in the struggle for social justice, which includes an end to sexist, gender, and racial oppression. I struggle with how to explain that I believe feminism will save us as long as it is anti-racist, class-conscious, and queer. I struggle with how to fight against all that marks me as invisible and the fear of being visible.

Change... can it be?

Obama said "YES WE CAN" and we did... Admittedly, I was a skeptic up until the last moment of truth on November 4th... as much as I wanted to dive in to the Obama-mania of the past year, I resisted the urge because I was scared. I feared for his life and his family. I feared for the ways in which his success would be spun (and is spun) as the end of racism. I feared that he would be a symbol of post-racial Blackness. I feared that he would not be able to live up to all the hopes/dreams/expectations we placed on him. I feared that he would have to give up too much to win the election. I feared that Black people would be left out. And my greatest fear - that poor working class Black people would be forgotten. Twelve years in Florida and distrust of an extremely flawed voting system enhanced my cynicism.

I had many fears and some of these fears remain in spite of my feelings of excitement and joy over this victory, our victory. The victory of so many people who came before us. People whose names are forgotten - our ancestors who fought and resisted slavery and colonization. Black men and women who refused to be treated as second-class citizens, who struggled for civil rights (along with white allies and other coalitions of people of color and other marginalized groups). But (as many voices have been saying) this victory cannot be seen as the final victory.

The struggle is not over. Social justice has yet to be realized. In the United States, 2.3 million people are locked up in an unjust prison system. Their rights are taken away, yet their bodies and labor are owned by the state. The United States is engaged in two unjust wars. Poor working class people around the country do not have equal access to resources and opportunities. Many people are struggling to get by. Poor communities and communities of color are heavily policed and criminalized. LGBTQ people and communities are also criminalized and in the struggle for civil rights. (Thinking especially about the hate crimes forgotten, with little to no media coverage, endured by lesbian/gay/bisexual/transgender/queer people especially of color, remember Sakia Gunn; thinking about the bans on same sex marriage across the country, remember California and Florida in this election - voting for change on the one hand and against rights on the other.)

Women of color, LGBTQ people, marginalized groups, communities of color, immigrant communities, and the working poor, working class, are too often pitted against each other. We are encouraged to forget/dismiss our common differences, to fight over the scraps and crumbs left over, to not see our similar struggles. And we forget that these divisions are not set in stone, often times we are ALL these, MANY of these, living in multiple identities, fitting in/to many of these so-called categories, boxes built for division, created to keep us separated, fighting (the divide and rule paradigm still at work).

BUT something happened on November 4th, not just in the United States, but around the world... I felt it as the election results poured in... I felt it when the Obama family walked out on that stage... I felt it during his speech... I felt it as I saw images of people around the world in celebration and in hope of all that is possible... I still feel it as I walk around the streets of New York in post-election bliss, the smiles, the tears of joy, the heads held high, the energy and spirit of this moment... (especially for people of color, especially for people who voted for the first time, especially for people who worked so hard on the Obama campaign and voter registration).

And so, I am full of HOPE and ready for CHANGE. "Yes, we can!"

As I resonate upon these hopes of Election '08, I feel like a believer now, I feel like anything is possible (at least for this moment, at least in the now). I feel such relief that so many people in the United States (born citizens and naturalized citizens who may locate home outside the U.S. but live in the U.S.) participated in the electoral process and made a collective voice heard - a voice that said, we are tired of the present regime.

As a migrant and newly naturalized citizen, this was my first time voting in the United States, and I am happy to say I voted for Obama... even as I critique U.S. empire and imperialism and see the hypocrisy in the so-called democracy of the United States' two party system and mystifying electoral college. I am over joyed that he won, and in spite of all my doubts and fears, I believe.

"We inhabit histories even if we do not understand or know them" -Angela Davis

I was fortunate to hear Professor Davis speak last week (Oct 30th) here in New York... and to be blessed/inspired/lifted by her words of wisdom (her voice of radical change). (Her talk focused on a range of issues - the election, race, gender, civil rights, citizenship, the prison industrial complex, democracy, abolition, and more.) She reminded us that no matter how much the election discourse evaded the question of race (and public discourse generally), histories are always a part of us; she said "they inhabit us." And we cannot disregard how much race has shaped histories in the present. So even as we celebrate Obama's win and the apparent defeat of racial barriers, we must remember there is much work to do.

Professor Davis said that we must shift our focus from the individual to the group, that we must sustain the energy from this election and hold our leaders accountable - push for the change we want/need. Let us not forget that the struggle for social justice and an equal society and world remains. She said, "Don't give up our collective agency to our leaders. Rid ourselves of the Messiah complex." In other words, we must remain active, participate, and BE IN this movement. And we cannot forget the problem of colorblindness & gender blindness - because we do not live in a world that is gender or color blind. She ended her talk with the refrain, "Radical Solutions are needed" and that we must say no to racism, say no to sexism, say no to wars, say no to injustice...

These are the ideas I focus on as we celebrate Obama's win (as our victory, but not the final victory) as the beginning of a movement for real change, a push for radical change, as the start we need to both imagine and create a radically different, socially just, equal, and better world.

with hope that this whisper of revolution transforms into a storm,
Angelique

the august escape & fall in new york city

Okay, so I kinda missed august and dropped the ball on my response to part two of the hot mess that was CNN's Black in America on "The Black Man." Luckily I kept my notes and its been in progress. So here it is finally (even though it is beyond late) - just some food for thought and because it will be relevant to some of my future postings... But first, an update on me and my first month in new york city :) I successfully defended my dissertation on July 29th :) packed and moved in August... Strangely but not surprisingly I am missing da'ville... Mostly I miss my peeps, my crew, my community, but we're still with each other in spirit and cyberspace :)

(This posting date says Aug 27th cause I started working on it back then, it is now actually Sept 24th)

Meanwhile, in new york, I am settling in and adjusting to city life. Fall has just arrived and my tropic self is not prepared for winter. But since I have little choice in the matter, I gats to get ready... As colder days approach, I am hard at work on various projects and transitioning from graduate student to post-diss life and postdoctoral research and book proposal. It is crazy, but yeah I am finally on the other end, staring down the long list of more work, more reading, more research, and more writing that will be my career and life as an emerging academic... I am learning/adjusting to life after defense, actually being Dr. Angelique V. Nixon and what that all means, letting it roll off my tongue and hear it out loud and feel it and know it to be true... but the hardest thing is owning it... truly owning it. I am sure it will come with time, and so I am grateful for the postdoc fellowship cause it is giving me that time, as well as giving me time to work on transforming the dissertation into a book (or at least starting the process). I feel inspired by the move and very motivated to do the work. And I plan to focus on my creative writing as well.

I am loving new york city - it is dramatic, daring, and delicious. I am slowly getting the hang of things/tings. There is way too much to do, and yet I am determined to make the most of my year and do as much as I can. In a way, I feel remarkably comfortable in its streets, but at the same time, I feel out of place. Every day though, I feelin more and more in place, mostly on the side lines, driving forward and pushing through.

Part Two response (better late than never... I hope :) and pondering the state of the world

This is clearly late for my part two response... but I've been really busy... and now I am finally getting back to responding to the second part of CNN's Black in America, "The Black Man" - which was not quite as terrible as the first one. I didn't want to scream as much as I did during the first part... Nevertheless, there were problems (multiple in fact). One glaring problem, as with the first one, why is Roland Fryer (an economist) an expert on everything Black??? why was he back on part two??? cause he's also an expert on drugs? this makes no sense... I could go on forever, but I just wanna touch on a couple issues:

- Why begin this segment with crack stories and prison without context for the prison industrial complex or unfair sentencing laws that are racist or any discussion of the drug laws and how they were created.

(But at least they talked about unemployment and the fact that racism still affects Black men getting jobs, racial stereotypes, and fear of the Black man in the United States.)

- The “successful” Black man raising his kids as “white” - We need to break down this notion that Black kids who do well in school are acting white, and the other crazy idea that education is not a black thing. Why didn't they talk about the very long history of Black Intellectuals, Scholars and Educators in the United States?

- Like the first part, this one still had no analysis of issues of class or poverty; and again this notion that there are no role models for young Black men from "the inner city” reinforcing the pathology of "no Black fathers" or the looming question of the segment - “where have all the fathers gone?” - and so they compared two different families but never talk to the women/partners of those "amazing" men who stay in their families. But of course part two was only about Black men, so apparently no need to discuss Black women (even though they talked A LOT about Black men during the "Black women and family" part).

- The show continues to pathologize the "generational problem" of Black men not being fathers, which in turn reinforces all the racialized stereotypes of Black women and the "breakdown of the Black family."

I could go on and on, and let's not even start with the bizarre and highly problematic discussion of hip hop culture and contemporary Black music. I will stop here and just say that the show was inadequate at best and dangerous at worse -reinforcing racialized stereotypes and pathologizing Black people and Black peoples lives. We deserve better. We deserve more complicated readings and studies of our lives. We deserve truly diverse representations of ourselves that account for the DIFFERENCES that comprise Blackness in "America" and beyond (i.e. in terms of race, ethnicity, religion, sexuality, class, spirituality, family structure, and so on). (for example: The show in NO way dealt with Black migrants from the Caribbean, Latin America, or Africa - in fact, the show did not even account for Soledad's own identity of being mixed and Afro-Cuban.)

Most of all, we deserve to not be reduced to stereotypes and caricatures. Can our human lives have value, as the great Sylvia Wynter theorizes about, in a world where capital and money are the driving forces, not humanity?

I dedicated my dissertation "for the struggle, to be human, Black woman, and free" because this is what preoccupies me now - especially in these regressive moments where it seems people believe we live in a color-blind, gender-equal world, where we can't really talk about race or gender, not to mention class, sex, or sexuality - a world that is increasingly racist, sexist, classist, repressed, xenophobic, and homophobic but there is little to no public discourse about what these actually mean... I've been watching way way too much t.v. since I've been in new york (someone let me have free channels :) and since I haven't watched t.v. regularly in many years, it has been a "learning" experience... This has re-confirmed for me that public discourse and so-called journalists really don't engage at all with these issues. I watched "The View" the other day and the five women on that show (including Barbara Walters) could not define sexism... I knew something was terribly wrong at that moment...

more rantings and musings to follow...
conscious wibes from Angelique in new york...

response to CNN's "Black in America"

So I watched CNN's special report on "Black in America" last night - the first part on "The Black Woman and Family" with Soledad O'Brian. I figured it would be problematic but it was worse than I had imagined. I expected it to be this expose on "Black America" and for it to help its audience (white America) to "understand" Black people better. I expected that it would be heteronormative and only deal with male/female relationships. And yes - it did all those things, while also perpetuating racialized stereotypes... But it was worse than what I expected because it was incredibly regressive in the sense that it re-presents the Moynihan Report (1965) as the way to understand the Black experience in the United States - with all kinds of new statistics presented in ways that continue to pathologize Black people and Black people's lives. Furthermore, Soledad fails to offer any analysis of her research or any social, political, or historical context for the so-called "struggles and successes of Black America." There are so many issues with the two-hour segment that it could take me all day to write them down and I'd still have more to talk about... so where to begin?

Let's start with the notion that marriage is the answer to Black women's problems: the single mothers in "alarming" numbers who have "children out of wedlock" (we were reminded of this constantly throughout the show - "70% of Black children are born out of wedlock" - with no comparative data to other racial groups in America) and the professional women who in "alarming" numbers are "unmarried and single." ("Alarming" was the key phrase of the show - perpetuating all kinds of fears about "those" single Black mothers and unmarried Black women.)

Problem A: So for the sake of argument, let's assume that Soledad and her CNN producers/writers don't mean ALL Black women, but since they traffic in generalizations and this report is framed as "The Black Woman and Family" - they are in fact lumping Black women together and the implication is that "Black women" in the statistics are all straight and want/desire to be married. Perhaps some of these women in the "45% of Black women have never been married" statistic are not straight! or they just don't want to be married! The idea that some women may not desire marriage and/or are lesbian/bisexual is not even an option. The implication then is that half of Black women in the United States are suffering and in search of a good Black man (who don't exist or are in jail), and when all else fails, they may have to (OH NO!) date outside their race - which of course means date a white man - not a Latino or Asian man, nope.. cause America is just black and white...

Problem B: Married Two-parents households are better than single parent households: the assumption that Black single mothers would be better off (i.e. economically and socially) with the fathers of their kids. Maybe these women don't want to be with the father of their kids. Maybe alternative family structures and extended families are working for these women. That is never explored and the implication here is that children of Black single mothers won't make it and are in the "achievement gap" between Black and white kids (again just Black and white) because they have no fathers and are poor. Then Soledad brings in Harvard economist Roland Fryer to share his "expertise" on educating Black kids... His "experiment" is paying kids to learn - and this "shows" that Black kids just need reinforcement (i.e. money) to do well. Roland says that Black kids in 'the inner city' don't have role models - and this is what they need to do well in school... (WTF!) First of all, this guy is an economist so why in the hell is he talking about education like he's an expert??? Second of all, there are many after-school programs operated by Black (and non-Black) people all over this country that don't pay kids to learn... AND there are many scholars (non-Black and Black) who could have offered more insights and real expertise into education and the disparities in the education system - for example, the show (i.e. Soledad during her ONE YEAR of research) could/should have addressed the lack of resources in schools, segregation that continues in the school system, teachers not getting paid enough, and the fact that the U.S. education system is failing for most kids not just Black poor kids.

As me and a group of my friends watched this last night, I asked the room, how many of us come from Black single parent households and earned college and graduate degrees... most of us raised our hands - because why - believe it or not, some of us are raised by single Black mothers and grandmothers (and fathers, grandfathers, aunties, & uncles), and we have role models in our families (single parent and all...) and we are inspired and encouraged to do well and succeed. And some of us have! On the other hand, this report implies that middle class and upper class children (from two parent households) will make it - as if there is some guarantee... which leads to:

Problem C with the show: lack of any analysis or critique when discussing class, socio-economic status, or colorism (among other topics they tried to address like Health and HIV/AIDS).

There is so much more to say... and there is part two tonight... so expect more rantings from me tomorrow or the next day...

please share your comments and reflections on conscious vibration.

peace & soul,
Angelique

Summer 2008 update

It's been a long time... I've missed writing on my blog, but trust when I say I been writing... workin on my dissertation straight through since the beginning of the year... Last fall was hectic cause I was on the job market and working on the diss, and spring was insane cause I was finishing up the diss... and this summer - revisions... and now it is finished! or I should say ready for the defense, which is in a couple weeks. I feel very accomplished, but still thinking about the process and spending time relaxing and getting ready for the defense...

On to other updates - I got a job! a one year postdoctoral fellowship at New York University. So I am moving to NY in mid August - big changes and a major move about to happen. I am thrilled and still can't believe it... everything is happening so fast... somehow it will all come together...

As for my writing - even though I've been out of the blog scene - I have two poems coming out in the Journal of Caribbean Literatures very soon... and I've worked on a few and sent out for submission/review. So the writing scene has been okay - but most of my time has been consumed with the diss - it was an overwhelming process, and I learned a lot about myself as a writer and a scholar - which I will continue working on in the future... So as I wrap up the diss process and graduate :) and then move onto the postdoc, I have big plans for so many t'ings - there is much to write and conversate about! expect some entries soon in the coming weeks...

until then...

"Thanksgiving is much more than a lie" ~ my reflections 'pon dis day...

Quick update on me: Somehow I've been too busy to write on my blog... but I've been writing, dissertating, job applicating, and working hard - another hectic, crazy semester - but work is gettin did and I'm on track to finishing up by next summer... meanwhile, here are some musings, thoughts, reflections...

I am sitting at my desk trying to work, but thinking about this "day off" - this so-called holiday - I know we are supposed to be about family/friends and be thankful... I appreciate this sentiment, and I do enjoy catchin up with people I haven't talked to in a while, gettin text messages from friends, catchin up on work, cleaning, and sleep. Yes, I am enjoying all this, but I am also thinking about what this day really means and how the history of this day is covered up and glossed over in favor of the happy tale of "pilgrams and indians" feasting together. And so while many people (generally speaking) know that "the indians" were killed, forced onto reservations, and their land stolen, at the same time these horrid realities are disconnected from "thanksgiving" and the nice pilgrams. How can this be?

Cultural and historical amnesia fuels this day. We need to remember that it was founded by Abraham Lincoln for the purposes of nation building. And even as we enjoy the much needed time off from our ever busy and crazy hectic lives, we need to remember and tell a more accurate history of this day.

We should do this because the "thanksgiving" mythology is so powerful that it continues to be held up as one of things that makes america great. But this america is founded on bloodshed, genocide, and enslavement, which began with the first settlers and their common practice of giving small pox infected blankets to Native Americans, and the first official Pilgrim "thanksgiving day" that actually celebrated the massacre of the Pequot Tribe.

Today, I read this week's Black Commentator Editorial, and it reminded me why I study what I do and re-affirmed to me why we must in the words of Audre Lorde organize across difference and build alliances among people of color. Please check out this article - it is long but very informative and contains an overview of the historical background of thanksgiving. It explains how the history of this day is rooted in white supremacy, genocide, and slavery.

Check it out soon cause it will only be available free online till next Wednesday: Black Commentator.com

In case you miss it, here are a few thought-provoking points from the article:

"Thanksgiving is much more than a lie – if it were that simple, an historical correction of the record of events in 1600s Massachusetts would suffice to purge the “flaw” in the national mythology. But Thanksgiving is not just a twisted fable, and the mythology it nurtures is itself inherently evil. The real-life events – subsequently revised – were perfectly understood at the time as the first, definitive triumphs of the genocidal European project in New England. The near-erasure of Native Americans in Massachusetts and, soon thereafter, from most of the remainder of the northern English colonial seaboard was the true mission of the Pilgrim enterprise – Act One of the American Dream. African Slavery commenced contemporaneously – an overlapping and ultimately inseparable Act Two. The last Act in the American drama must be the “root and branch” eradication of all vestiges of Act One and Two – America’s seminal crimes and formative projects. Thanksgiving as presently celebrated – that is, as a national political event – is an affront to civilization. ...

The British North American colonists’ practice of enslaving Indians for labor or direct sale to the West Indies preceded the appearance of the first chained Africans at the dock in Jamestown, Virginia, in 1619. The Jamestown colonists’ human transaction with the Dutch vessel was an unscheduled occurrence. However, once the African slave trade became commercially established, the fates of Indians and Africans in the colonies became inextricably entwined. New England, born of up-close-and-personal, burn-them-in-the-fires-of-hell genocide, led the political and commercial development of the English colonies. The region also led the nascent nation’s descent into a slavery-based society and economy. ...

The Thanksgiving holiday fable is at once a window on the way that many, if not most, white Americans view the world and their place in it, and a pollutant that leaches barbarism into the modern era. The fable attempts to glorify the indefensible, to enshrine an era and mission that represent the nation’s lowest moral denominators. Thanksgiving as framed in the mythology is, consequently, a drag on that which is potentially civilizing in the national character, a crippling, atavistic deformity. Defenders of the holiday will claim that the politically-corrected children’s version promotes brotherhood, but that is an impossibility – a bald excuse to prolong the worship of colonial “forefathers” and to erase the crimes they committed. Those bastards burned the Pequot women and children, and ushered in the multinational business of slavery. These are facts. The myth is an insidious diversion – and worse." - The Black Commentator, Editorial November 22, 2007 -

I'm sharing not to spoil our thanksgiving day dinners and such, but rather to share in the spirit of survival IN SPITE of all the forces that have tried to destroy so many. I am thankful that we (as in marginalized peoples, people of color, working poor, and indigenous peoples across the world) have fought, have raised our voices, and are still fighting and still raising our voices...

in the struggle... peace & soul,
Angelique

What do we call ourselves? - The Politics of Racial Mixing in The Bahamas - part three

Part three of a three-part series, published in The Nassau Guardian, 4th August 2007

By Angelique V. Nixon
Special to The Guardian

In thinking about the term “racial mixing,” it is important to note the long history of mixed-race identities in the colonial context, and to think about how race became a major tool to categorize people and legally code racial difference. Kamau Brathwaite defines the process of creolization during slavery as the clashing and mixing between dominant whites and blacks — culturally discrete groups, yet they consistently interacted with each other, blending people, cultures, customs, rituals, languages, and religions. Brathwaite (along with other Caribbean historians) trace how this constant interchange created new boundaries defined through skin color, which has contributed to the present-day race, color, and class dynamics seen across the Caribbean.

Mixed-race people challenged the divisions and were thus given certain privileges through their “whiteness.” Despite the efforts of European colonials to show a racially segregated and harmonious Caribbean to the colonial powers, the actual picture of the Caribbean during slavery was one filled with racial and cultural mixing that was viewed as degeneration, sexual corruption, moral decay, and decadence.

Black enslaved women were often blamed for this “sexual corruption,” while they suffered rape at the hands of white male slaveholders and planters, who used rape as a form of control and torture as a way to maintain their slave populations. But these spaces and people in them had to be controlled and categorized into hierarchies that suited European colonials, elites, and white Creoles — especially when mixed-race populations grew and demanded status through their white ancestry. Mixed-race groups were able to attain socio-economic mobility, yet they historically existed in this “in between” space of not quite white and not quite black.

Dr. Gail Saunders has traced in her work the race and class divisions that existed in the Bahamas from slavery through post-emancipation. In her study of social life in the Bahamas, she explains that there were four major social groups: At the top were the white elite; in the middle were “the browns, or coloreds,” ranging “from off-black to near white;” and at the bottom were the majority — the black laboring classes, and among them were marginal poor whites. Saunders discusses how mixed-race people in the Bahamas post-emancipation were able to attain social and economic status and built a middle class between the 1880s and 1920s, specifically. Regardless, they still faced racial prejudice from the white elites, and the status within the middle class was stratified by skin color and economic success. The Black laboring classes were considered socially inferior by both the white elites and mixed-race groups. These race and class divisions were created through slavery and maintained post-emancipation; and even through the political struggle for Black majority rule, these social divisions can still be seen.

By the time countries in the Caribbean started fighting for independence, Black people were already in notable positions within civil service, education, and law enforcement that used to be occupied solely by whites and mixed-race elites. However, it is clear that race, and by extension class, was the determining factor for the development of social groups across the Caribbean.

The history outlined here is a brief overview, and different islands have variations and exceptions regarding the racial categories. These racial categories were made more complicated post-slavery because of the Indian and Chinese indentured workers who were brought to the Caribbean, especially to Guyana, Trinidad, Suriname, and Jamaica by European planters (who did not want to pay the newly freed Africans what they demanded in wages).

Moreover, migrations within, to, and from the Caribbean have also affected racial dynamics. In my experience of migrating from the Bahamas to Florida, I had to negotiate the social and legal codes for race. During my first few years of college, in addition to my national and cultural identification as Bahamian, I used the category of “mixed” and “other” as a way of identifying myself in social groups and for legal purposes. Whenever I was asked, “What are you?” or “What are you mixed with?” I explained, but I became offended by the questions — “Are you sure you’re not Hispanic?” “Are you Filipino?” or “You’re Bahamian? You don’t look Bahamian.”

I often reacted to these statements by stating firmly “Don't look so confused, what you think Bahamians look like? Anyway, I'm mixed.” Being “mixed” in the U.S. context means for the most part that you are black. This experience, along with knowing my history and culture, led me to identifying as black solely. This decision was not only personal and spiritual, but also political. I believe that black people and blackness continue to be devalued, and people of African descent must take part in creating a change in how the world sees us and how we see each other.

Some people think that racial mixing will create a harmonious future, but I have serious doubts that it will — not only because of a history and herstory that tells us otherwise, but also we are simply not there. A former supervisor (white, older American male) after inquiring about my racial identity said to me that he imagines the world will “look like me” once “the races continue mixing.” His comment was not only idealistic about race relations (we still live in world that is for the most part racially segregated), but it also shows how racial mixing can be seen as a kind multiculturalism — a vision for the future. However, one needs only to look at racial mixing during slavery to see that even as racial mixing troubled the boundaries, at the same time, it created new divisions. Even though I can see the power of refusing categories and identifying as “other” as a form of resistance, I also realize that “other” carries little political weight because it supports a kind of liberal idealism where multiculturalism is the answer to racism.

My experiences and studies have shown me otherwise — that racism is structural, a system of oppression imbedded into the social and legal fabrics of many societies, which has directly contributed to the social and economic disparity of people of color around the world. Whether we “see” issues of race, class, and gender, they exist and have structured the societies in which we live. In the Bahamas, we avoid talking about race and class, and we try to convince ourselves that slavery and colonization no longer affect us. We live in a male-dominated culture that is too silent about violence and abuse against women and young children. We spend too much time constructing and re-producing our culture for everyone else but ourselves. We need to spend more time uncovering the silences that control us.

As people who live in the Bahamas, we must understand who we are and where we come from in terms of place, history, and culture. We are rooted in the African Diaspora, and whether or not you are of African descent, this is we history and we culture.

What do we call ourselves? - The Politics of Racial Mixing in The Bahamas - part two

Part two of a three-part series, published in The Nassau Guardian, 28th July 2007

By Angelique V. Nixon
Special to the Guardian

I was raised primarily by my Black grandmother in Bain Town, Nassau, Bahamas (Over da Hill) and this experience was most fundamental in forging social and cultural perceptions of my identity (that being Afro-Caribbean and Bahamian).

My grandmother, Mabel Sistella Charles, was born and raised in Inagua, and came to New Providence when she was just 16. She did not speak much about her past, but from what I remember and have traced through family stories, she worked as a cook and domestic worker most of her life until she was hurt on one of her jobs. At that point, she had already raised four children on her own and had also helped raise two of her grandchildren, including me.

While my grandmother was a very proud Black woman, she was insistent that I never marry a Black man because with my light skin and "good" hair I could be the one to "make it" out of the ghetto, get an education, and take care of the family. As a product of a colonial (mis)education, my grandmother associated being Black with being poor and having no opportunities, whereas being white came with privilege, and the "in between" or mixed-race people could essentially "choose," depending on how "white" or "Black" they appeared or even acted.

I think my grandmother's expectations of me grew out of what she saw as my mother's failure to operate in this "in between" space of white and Black. My mother was the one child out of her four children that she conceived with a white man. My mother was the product of my grandmother's troubling affair with a British Methodist priest in the 1950s for whom she worked as a domestic; my mother never met him. Despite my grandmother's hopes, my mother never "made it out," so that responsibility became mine. Although my mother often talked about the tensions she felt growing up and never fully fitting in anywhere, she identified as Black, but attempted to gain status through conceiving me with a mixed-race Bahamian man — a combination of Chinese, white, Black, and Native American. As we like to say in the Bahamas, "all mix up." As a result, I was encouraged and expected to excel in school and succeed. I would argue that these expectations from both my mother and grandmother can be seen throughout the history of racial mixing in the Caribbean.

Growing up in the Bahamas, I very rarely had conversations about race or racial mixing. As I teenager, I felt ashamed of being poor, and I worked hard to distance myself from where I grew up. And since I associated being poor with being Black, I tried to "mask" my "blackness." In other words, I chose to be silent about my racial identity in certain situations in order to gain opportunities such as jobs, scholarships, and promotions, and I strived to meet my family's expectations. In fact, I did this so much that "masking" became easier and easier, a kind of performance, as I perfected my "proper" English, socialized primarily with white people and those who could "pass" as white, and avoided conversations about growing up poor and my racial identity. In retrospect, I do not believe that my grandmother or my mother would have ever wanted me to hide my identity, but rather they too understood strategically performing or not performing blackness. This "masking" through performance could never affect my embodied identity, no matter my silence or social circles. However, I did benefit from my performance because I was able to take advantage of opportunities that I don't think would have been available to me had I been darker-skinned or had not performed strategically.

In my mid-20s, I realized I did not have to hide who I was. But I was faced with the reality of being in a multiracial body where I felt like I had to "claim" my blackness. I began openly talking about my life growing up, sharing stories about my mother and grandmother, and asserting my identity through my experiences and personal history. And I did this through conceiving of my identity through historical, cultural, and political terms. Nevertheless, I am very aware of being a mixed-race black woman with light skin and "good" hair, and therefore conscious of the light-skinned privilege that comes with being mixed. But I am also aware that the "blackness" I embody carries with it not only my family history of 1950s colonial rule, but also a very particular kind of history. This history is one of African enslavement in which Black women were consistently raped by white men, and one where miscegenation (racial mixing) could mean denigration but also privilege.

What do we call ourselves? - The Politics of Racial Mixing in The Bahamas - part one

Part one of a three-part series - published in The Nassau Guardian, 21st July 2007

By Angelique V. Nixon, Special to the Guardian

As a multiracial woman of African descent born and raised in the Bahamas but currently living in the United States, I have experienced many reactions to what people think about my racial identity. I am frequently asked the question, "What are you?" or "Where are you from?" This confusion over my identity stems not only from my physical features — a racial mix of Black, Chinese, white, and Native American — but also from my cultural and national identification as Afro-Caribbean and Bahamian. And this is made more confusing because I have light skin and "good" hair. (As many of us know, "good" hair generally refers to hair that is close in texture to white or Asian hair.) In both African-American and Caribbean communities, a Black person having light skin and "good" hair as a result of racial mixing is generally seen in a positive light. Since I don't have the "typical" Black racial markers of dark skin and kinky hair, but rather other markers like full lips, a wide nose and voluptuous hips, my racial identity within the Caribbean context has usually been regarded as "mix up," "half breed," "high yellow," or even "practically white." Although I was often the lightest skinned person in my classes growing up and experienced feelings of isolation because I felt different, I learned at a very young age that there are benefits to being light-skinned. While growing up in the Bahamas, I self-identified as "other" or "mixed" because of my light skin, which marked me as "not quite Black," but I knew I was "not quite white" either.

Moving to the United States for college in my early-20s sparked many changes in my understanding of race because of the "one drop" rule there, along with the legal and social codes concerning racial categories in which technically I am Black. And in my mid-20s, I made the decision to self-identify as Black.

While I came to this decision through an acceptance of my own history and culture, I was challenged to do so through my education and experience of racism in the United States. Being in graduate school and studying the incredibly complex history of slavery, colonization, and race relations in the Caribbean, Latin America, and the United States, I found myself unable to comfortably identify as "mixed" or "other" any longer because I realized the shame I carried around about my past had everything to do with my African ancestry and growing up poor.

I believe that in the Bahamas we need to have more conversations about race and how race affects class and gender. I believe that there are many silences about who we are, where we come from, and the connections between us and the rest of the Caribbean. I believe that these silences include many "white" and mixed-race Bahamians not acknowledging their African ancestry. Even though we are an independent majority Black nation, I believe we are still deeply affected by the effects of slavery and colonization, which institutionalized racism and light-skinned privileges into our social fabric (in the Bahamas and across the Caribbean and the Americas).

Many of us are mixed race, and we can no longer be ashamed of ourselves and deny our ancestry. And even for the very small amount who are white in the Bahamas, you too must acknowledge our African roots as a country and as a people. The Bahamas (and the rest of the world) would not be what it is without the retention of African roots, found in our culture, language, music, art, festivals, customs, rituals, beliefs, and so on. And as a person living in the Bahamas, regardless of race or ethnicity, one should acknowledge what Caribbean scholar and poet Kamau Brathwaite calls "creolization," or the mixing and melding of African and European cultures, languages, and peoples during slavery. (And this mixing continued post-slavery when European planters brought Indian and Chinese people into the Caribbean through indentured servitude.)

There is a wealth of information on these important historical, social, and cultural issues, and in order to uncover the silences, we must be armed with information. We live in a moment where equality and color blindness are an illusion, and we continue to live in a world that is fueled by racism and social and economic inequity. We need to understand what racism is and how it works, rather than deny its existence. This is why I think we need to have these conversations and work harder to know who we are and where we come from.

thoughts from home

It's been a while since I've written on my blog... My summer has been hella busy so far - it started out with a conference in Brazil - Salvador da Bahia - it was amazing... And now I'm at home in Nassau doing research and interviews for my dissertation - been here for most of June. It's been really productive for my work and also for my creative writing. I've done a few poetry readings, and been interviewed about my work for local TV station and radio station. It's been really exciting - some great opportunities to share my work at home...

peace & conscious wibes...
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Race and Racism - by Dr. Faye Harrison

February 26, 2007 - “A Series of Unfortunate Events? A Look at Race”

Faye V. HarrisonProfessor of African American Studies & Anthropology
University of Floridafayeharr@ufl.edu

Questions posed by organizers:
What is the state of our national conversation on race? Are we moving forward or moving backward in race relations? Do we need to correct our current course? How?

In my view, there is a great deal of denial about race and racism in this country. The denial is not just occurring at the level of ignorant individuals who lack knowledge, sensitivity, and live lives sustained by class and/or racial privilege. The denial is also evident in the language, practices, and policies—both domestic and foreign—of our democratically-elected government. That government and the increasingly neoconservative interests that drive its current administration, promotes colorblindness and a post-Civil Rights notion of diversity management that in many respects denies the severity of present-day racial inequalities and the extent to which they are still being perpetuated by institutional and structural means. Both the legacy and cumulative burdens of past discrimination and the insidious, often subtle, forms of racism that are being reconfigured, restructured and deeply implanted in today’s late modern world operate to the patterned and systemic disadvantage of people of color, from those experiencing racial scapegoating since 9/11 to those who have long been relegated to the bottom of the nation’s social and economic hierarchy. The language of our public conversation on race and our political discourse in general has taken a rightward shift away from many issues that truly need to be engaged from angles that consider explanatory frames and justice-seeking possibilities that go well beyond the established boundaries of Republican Party politics and even beyond those of the Democratic Party’s Liberalism as it’s come to be constituted today. We must remember that Liberals have been among those who’ve advocated the dismantling of welfare as we once knew it and affirmative action, ideologically reduced to quotas, playing the race card, and “reverse racism.” Both of these domains of ideological, legal, and legislative struggle have been racialized in ways detrimental to the interests and well-being of their overlapping and, unfortunately, disunited constituencies—poor folks, the racially subordinated, and women and those who depend upon their contracting resources and hard work, both waged or unwaged.

Black people have long represented the most radical form of difference here in the U.S. Although we know that race relations is more complicated than the bipolarities of black and white, we also know, or should, that the inequalities and racial assaults, both symbolic and physical, that black people experience are often severe. Some of the indicators of the “savage inequalities” and injustices that adversely affect black communities include: the drastically lower net worth (or wealth) of black families compared to white families, the labor force experience of black workers who are among the last hired and first fired in recessions and who suffer the highest rates of unemployment, the inequalities in health and life expectancy, and in the arena of criminal justice the mass incarceration of black males and the soaring rates among black women, whose convictions have dire consequences for families and communities “on the outside” and deprive the convicted of the rights of citizenship for which the black freedom movement has long fought. These regressive changes are occurring right under our noses, yet they remain largely unspoken and silenced as salient matters for serious political debate.

The U.S. has also played a role in attempting to discredit and inhibit the conversations about race and racism that have been gaining momentum in international and transnational arenas, such as those facilitated the pre- and post-conference activities associated with the UN’s World Conference against Racism (2001) as well as other world conferences on related issues. In the language and legalities of international human rights—a regime that is not without its contradictions and flaws—structural racism in its various faces and modalities is a violation of human rights, a violation warranting redress, compensation, and reconciliation. While the U.S. is signatory to the anti-racist treaty, the International Convention on the Elimination of All Forms of Racial Discrimination (ICERD), which took effect way back in 1969, it has presented a major obstacle to the work of monitoring and promoting compliance to this treaty.

Despite the many obstacles, including national and transnational or imperial political agendas, international conversations have led more activists to understand that racism is more than a problem in the U.S. and South Africa. It is a problem of increasingly global scope that is being heightened in contexts reshaped by the contemporary mobilities of both immigrants and capital along with the often problematic impacts of (U.S.) foreign policy. Contrary to the “norm against noticing race” that prevails in international relations, foreign policy is no more color blind than domestic policy is. We need to face the power racism exerts at home and abroad before we can figure out how to dismantle it.

rants on race & gender

so it's been a while - spring blues haven't gotten the best of me - I'm still here in the struggle. The past few months have re-confirmed how much conversations about race, racism, gender, sexism, sex, sexuality, and class (among others) are needed in public discourse. Since the aftermath of Katrina, along with other incidents like the Kramer racial tirade, the Duke lacrosse case (which still has yet to be discussed and dealt with in a decent way & the larger issues of race and class are largely ignored), and the Imus madness - race has emerged in many a public debate and news headlines, but rarely engaged in complex ways. What has been made evident rather is the fear of talking about race, the denial of racism, and the belief in colorblindness as the dominant view of race in this country. This not only helps white people to feel justified in doing whatever they want and casting blame on people of color for our problems, and it also intensifies self-hate and internalized racism for people of color - and/or we just don't want to talk about it either - easier to deny and pretend that everything is equal... We are living in dangerous times - an' still no reparations (and when I say reparations - let's be clear - I don't mean cash, I mean supporting Affirmative Action and structural adjustments that will create social and economic equality for those who have been systematically and institutionally denied equal access).

I have been fortunate to attend a few excellent forums on race recently [Feb 26th - Panel Discussion - "A Series of Unfortunate Events? A Look at Race" & April 3rd - Lecture - "A Nation of Minorities: Race, Ethnicity, and Reactionary Colorblindness" - both at the Center for the Study of Race and Race Relations at UF's Law School]. These events have helped me to develop my thoughts, theories, and teaching about race and racism (especially Dr. Faye Harrison's statement on A Look at Race - which I will post in its entirety; and Dr. Ian Haney Lopez's lecture which I talk about below). And they have sparked many debates about race and gender with my friends. These have all created the following rants. I am including them here to keep track of my thoughts and in hopes of sparking more conversations and debates:

colorblind madness & Fox Attacks on Black America
So someone put a montage of Fox News clips that show Fox attacking "Black America" - meaning black issues, Barack Obama, affirmative action, and so on. What struck me was that they had a number of black folks agreeing with accusations of black people and communities being racist. One news reporter asked a conservative black politician if he thought Barack Obama's church was racist because they had in their mission statement a focus on the black community and black people and he said yes. This drove home to me how distorted discussions about race and racism are - especially in the public arena and media - and that we need explain what racism is and what affirmative action is and why it is still needed over and over again. Professor Ian Haney Lopez from UC Berkeley, who writes about race relations and law, does this in his work and talked about this in his lecture - and he gave an exceptional talk on reactionary colorblindness and why/how affirmative action is being attacked through a history of colorblindness and ethnicity in law and public discourse. He drove the point home that - We are now in this colorblind moment (that supports white dominance) where anyone can be racist - because the public sphere does not talk about structural racism - and discussions about race and racism are absent unless it is about an individual or it is based on culture and ethnicity - which are used instead of race. Professor Lopez said we have to de-legitimize colorblindness, support affirmative action, explain what it is - and describe it as "social repair" not preference or privilege - and talk about racial hierarchy and explain racism as a structural issue. If you don't know his work, you should check it out - I think his talk was one of the best discussions of race and law I have ever heard.

racialized gendered language and why imus' apology don't matter
While I am surprised and happy that Imus got fired, I am disturbed at how the media continues to spin this scandal - the discussions about race and gender are seriously problematic, rarely engaging in the history of this language or structural & internalized racism (NPR did have some better coverage) and these women have had to prove that they are "good, professional women," meanwhile discussions about Imus revolved around his "goodness." We live in a moment where people are so focused on the individual character and debates about whether or not Imus is racist and if he is a good person (same shit that happened with Kramer) - as opposed to talking about the fact that WHAT he said is racist and the language he used is racialized and gendered - the fact that an apology from him will never deal with why he was so comfortable saying what he said in the first place - his race and class privilege - on the flippin radio/internet/public sphere/public airwaves. And that he can bust out the tired excuse that - well "they say it to each other" routine - is taking us back to all the debates over the n-word - and reveals the extent to which we can't talk about race and racism in a serious way that addresses structural racism or even racialized & gendered language that's very different than "making fun of people." And the fact that these women feel like they have to (or more than likely advised to) defend themselves against this language and explain that they are not what he said shows us how powerful and loaded these racialized/gendered stereotypes are - because in the media/film/music/popular culture/etc. black women are seen as hos (thinking about the legacy of slavery and the perception that black women can't be raped and automatically thought of as prostitutes - ex. duke lacrose case). These women have been paraded around on shows, press conferences, and so on, to prove they are respectable black women - in other words, not like the "real hos" out there. And I am tired of these accusations that "the black community" has to deal with the language of hip hop and rap - as if various black communities haven't been doing this work for DECADES... as if the largest consumers of hip hop aren't white... as if the producers of the music and the videos aren't mostly white... as if we're the only ones who sustain this language... as if it doesn't come out of the history of slavery and segregation... as if we aren't talking about these issues... BUT I do agree we need to deal with our own issues - we have to talk about this ideal of black respectability and deal with the difficulty of talking about sex and sexuality - especially black female sexuality. Perhaps having these conversations will help us to deal with the aftermath of the duke case - like asking the question, what happened because something happened to this woman - who has now been rendered liar, invisible, and unimportant. So das why I think Imus' apology don't matter - cause it does nothing to deal with these deep-seeded issues of race, gender, sexuality, and class - it just helps to brush them back under the carpet - making this scandal an individual thing that doesn't reflect larger issues.

we are livin in a scary moment - It is regressive, conservative, reactionary, individualistic, capitalist, white-dominated patriarchy, fundamentalist christian... and in it - we are dealin with new kinds of racism and sexism that exist through denial and claims of equality...

stayin in the struggle,
Angelique