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Beyoncé Makes Lemonade

February 15, 2018

Thanks to Alissa Simon, HMU Tutor, for today’s post.

“Beyoncé doesn’t release albums; she creates cultural events.” - Daphne A. Brooks

According to Wikipedia, Beyoncé is the most nominated female singer in the history of the Grammy Awards (and she has also won 22 of them). Furthermore, Wikipedia cites: “In 2014, she became the highest-paid black musician in history and was listed among Time's 100 most influential people in the world for a second year in a row. Forbes ranked her as the most powerful female in entertainment on their 2015 and 2017 lists, and in 2016, she occupied the sixth place for Time's Person of the Year." In 2016 she made an album entitled Lemonade. It is known as a concept album and accompanied a one hour film by the same name. In it she narrates, dances, includes clips of family, and has many guest artists. She slips between genres such as reggae, hip hop, country, gospel, and blues.

Very few of us will ever have the chance to touch the whole world at once. I use dialogue for a living, but I do so in small groups and small venues. This allows for nice, intimate discussions which ensures that everyone can participate. Musicians, on the other hand, broadcast a message to the world instantly, quickly, and passionately. They embrace technological change in a way that questions how we use language effectively, potently, masterfully. Music is certainly not new, but music has begun to embrace a number of ways to increase its potential.

Lemonade is an ambitious project which addresses race, gender, and love. In it, Beyoncé unapologetically defends herself, her experience, and her right to be a strong, proud African American woman. By extension, her work inspires other women in tough situations. More than inspiration, though, she reminds us that we can (and should) aim higher. Beyoncé sends the message through lyrics like those found in “Freedom” where she says she breaks chains all by herself.

The album is not meant to show her perfections or even to tell the world that her experience trumps anyone else’s. It seems more closely aligned with owning the full complexity of experience. Life is full of decisions, and she tells all women to make their own decisions but also to own the past, not disregard it. Daphne A. Brooks, critic and scholar, writes, “The album encourages black women, in particular, to examine the wholeness of their beings and the complexities of their identities.”

While some dismiss her work as diva-like behavior, journalist Arwa Mahdawi reminds us that that would be a mistake. Beyoncé runs a business and knows it. Mahdawi suggests that we cannot ignore Beyoncé’s intentional branding. In fact, branding yourself is often expected of male artists, but dismissed in women. Mahdawi writes: “It’s a mistake to call Beyoncé’s notorious attention to her image ‘diva’ behaviour; it’s businesswoman behaviour. Beyoncé understood that she couldn’t let Beyoncé-the-person encroach on Beyoncé-the-brand. So she stopped saying much, and rarely gave interviews. In 2013, she made waves by appearing on the cover of the September issue of Vogue without deigning to give the customary interview that went with it. Her silence made her voice even more powerful, and reinforced the mythology she was creating.” She also surrounds herself with strong women. In music videos, she often dances among a group of women in step, herself at the front but always in step. The group dynamic is important, as is realizing that Beyoncé is a tour de force.

Lemonade begins with her grandmother’s 90th birthday in which her grandmother says, “Life gave me lemons, and I made lemonade.” Throughout the rest of the film, Beyoncé gives us the literal and figurative recipe of lemonade. I love to see an album that poses tough questions. This project made me wonder in what ways I interact with or participate in the world onscreen. What are the right questions to be asking? What does it mean to be female, powerful, and ambitious? How do we reconcile not just the past and the present, but the future? How can we address race relations in a healthy, powerful, and positive way? And, am I living up to my potential?

While not all critics think highly of Beyoncé (see bel hooks on the subject), so many people identify with her or her music that it would be impossible to dismiss her work. While she is talented, people often do not succeed based upon talent alone. Beyoncé has something extra that many people want to access. Taking a deeper look at her work has been a very worthwhile endeavor. She is sending a message and I, for one, am curious as to whether we are all receiving the same message, or if her work resonates for many reasons.

Contemporary success must attach to some objective desire whose impulse stems from the past. Success combines past reality with future visions in a way that seems visionary, but also still locates us in the present. Beyoncé participates in the past as much as she does in the present and future. In a way, progress always involves a stasis - the transcendent moment arrives only from an understanding of the forces which give rise to it. Beyoncé participates in the present by giving us a sense of opportunity which she has collated from history, experience, emotion, and public response. And for a few moments, the world moves in rhythm with her vision, her words, and her ideas, which are also our own.

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Rankine's Citizen

February 8, 2019

Thanks to Alissa Simon, HMU Tutor, for today’s post.

“I feel like one of our American peculiarities which is not serving us is our amnesia around trauma.” - Claudia Rankine

Claudia Rankine has a long list of accolades: bestselling poet, essayist, playwright, MacArthur Fellow, and the list goes on. Recently, I read Claudia Rankine’s book Citizen: An American Lyric (which won the 2015 PEN book award). According to Merriam-Webster, a lyric can be just a song or musical composition, or it can express “direct usually intense personal emotion especially in a manner suggestive of song.” Two things strike me as important: first that lyrics carry intense emotion, and second, that they are musical, but not necessarily music. I think the latter is important to me because of the expressive voice throughout the book. Rankine’s voice has a musical quality of the chorus which repeats the main point again and again and again until we finally get it. This technique left me feeling weary, and because of it, I began to glimpse what it must be like to have experienced oppression. Moreover the lyric aims to fight back at one of the most frustrating aspects of racism: language.

Rankine writes about everyday life in this book. She writes about moments with trusted friends and also moments with complete strangers. Both scenarios often arrive at similar points: that she is seen within a particular frame of reference. Or more clearly, that she is who she is because other people have defined her and see her in a certain way. In this book, she felt the need to address both minor injustices along with blatant injustices. As she says, “Perhaps the most insidious and least understood form of segregation is that of the word.” This after a series of frames which demonstrate two soccer players insulting each other. Some insults strike too close to home, or have been lived with for too long. In the clips, the soccer player’s response is physical, because a single hateful phrase cut too close to the quick.

Rankine’s book investigates responses to hatred, but it also expresses anguish in moments of intimacy. Rankine writes, “Certain moments send adrenaline to the heart, dry out the tongue, and clog the lungs. Like thunder they drown you in sound, no, like lightning they strike you across the larynx….Haven’t you said this to a close friend who early in your friendship, when distracted, would call you by the name of her black housekeeper? You assumed you two were the only black people in her life. Eventually she stopped doing this, though she never acknowledged her slippage. And you never called her on it (why not?) and yet, you don’t forget.” In a recent interview, she claimed that these were the hardest lines to write in the book because they criticized a close friend, but they demonstrate the pervasive nature of difference. Again and again, she depicts moments in which people refuse to speak to someone who is different, who feel fear based solely on visual cues. In these moments, people forget decency, transparency, curiosity, or whatever it is that makes us human beings.

These everyday examples: the housekeeper, or dinner conversation, the bus seats and sports games add up. Repeated lashings give the reader a sense of what it must feel like to walk around wearing a visible stereotyped identity. However, the title of the book is what hits home the most to me. Discussions that I run often end up on topics such as what it means to be a citizen, a member of any community, what does it mean to have a home and how do you identify it. After reading these perfectly banal moments with the grainy subtext of oppression (or at the very least, disinterest), I have been continually pondering the idea of citizen. What does it mean to belong. How many people belong? Who is in my community? Do I know my community and if so, how do I recognize them?

Rankine began this project after September 11th, when she witnessed the elevation of a very real fear. She noticed fear and hate creeping into rhetoric. I suppose this book was always in the making, but perhaps that event spurred her onward. Near the end of Citizen, she writes:

“I they he she we you were too concluded yesterday to know whatever was done could also be done, was also done, was never done –

The worst injury is feeling you don’t belong so much

to you--”

I would benefit from a discussion of this work as I am sure there are many subtleties that I have yet to see. I suggest pairing Claudia Rankine’s book Citizen: An American Lyric with her short films titled “Situations” found on her website. http://claudiarankine.com/

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Political Speech in Julius Caesar

January 25, 2019

Thanks to Alissa Simon, HMU Tutor, for today’s post.

Most humans are inundated with political speech, the current pace of which seems unsustainable (or at least unhealthy to me). I think this has often been the case in other civilizations too. Shakespeare gives us a great example of political speech among chaos in Julius Caesar. Though there are many layers to this play, I want to focus on the speeches given by Marcus Antonius (Mark Antony) and Marcus Brutus (Brutus) directly following Caesar’s murder.

First, it is important to understand that Brutus is a statesman. He is of a noble and honorable family. He is well-educated, well-read, and well-spoken. His identity is closely linked to this nobility. Also, it is important to understand that Brutus likes Caesar in many respects. However, something within Brutus makes him distrust Caesar as a leader and popular figure. Shakespeare does not explicitly state what makes Brutus cautious about endorsing his friend. When Cassius questions Brutus as to whether or not he would choose Caesar for his king, Brutus replies only, “I would not, Cassius; yet I love him well” (I,ii,82) and then adds that he loves honor more than death (I,ii,89). Brutus’s character is founded on ideals of justice, honor, and government. Cassius, however, is more ambitious and plants the seeds of Caesar’s demise into Brutus’s head. Cassius’s brilliant, and ultimately convincing speech reads:

“Why, man, he doth bestride the narrow world

Like a Colossus, and we petty men

Walk under his huge legs and peep about

To find ourselves dishonourable graves.

Men at some time are masters of their fates:

The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars,

But in ourselves, that we are underlings.

Brutus and Caesar: what should be in that ‘Caesar’?

Why should that name be sounded more than yours?

Write them together, yours is as fair a name;

Sound them, it doth become the mouth as well;

Weigh them, it is as heavy; conjure with ‘em,

Brutus will start a spirit as soon as Caesar.

Now, in the names of all the gods at once,

Upon what meat doth this our Caesar feed

That he is grown so great? Age, thou art shamed!

Rome, thou hast lost the breed of noble bloods!” (I,ii,135-151)

Cassius knows that nobility, honor, and justice are the keys to convincing Brutus. Cassius reinforces fears that Rome is splintering and being taken over by unworthy and uneducated classes. The fact that Julius Caesar rose from poverty, used plain speech, and created programs for the poor is all slightly absurd to the elite. Cassius knows how much a name means to Brutus, and also how little it means to Caesar. Even though Brutus replies, “I am nothing jealous,” the seed has been planted. And I do believe Brutus, his mission is not out of jealousy or even straight ambition. Rather, I believe he truly abhors the idea of a fallen Rome, one in which anyone can rule, regardless of nobility and lineage. To me, Brutus acts as though he believes himself to be Rome’s savior.

Unfortunately, Brutus does not understand politics, the people, or the time. In Act III, at the moment when Brutus and the conspirators murder Caesar, Caesar faces his friend and murderer. He speaks the famous line: “Et tu, Brute! Then fall, Caesar!” (III,i,77). After Caesar’s death, chaos ensues. Antony decides to appeal to the conspirators and so he sends his servant to Brutus with the message that “Brutus is noble, wise, valiant and honest” (III,i,127). Of course, Brutus admits Antony and the two discuss how to calm the growing crowds. In this meeting, Antony commits two noteworthy acts. First, he asks to be killed along with Caesar. This theatrical display is meant to demonstrate loyalty. The conspirators will have no more blood on their hands, though. Instead, they ask Antony to join them in representing Rome. And quickly, perhaps too quickly, Antony agrees and asks to shake each bloody hand (III,ii). However, Antony is keenly aware of the precarious situation. He appeals to Brutus’s nobility and honor more than anything and then requests to speak at Caesar’s funeral. After agreeing to let Antony speak, Brutus thinks to give himself the upper hand by speaking first. And so it is decided that Brutus will first appeal to the crowd and then Antony may address the public in the way of a formal ceremony.

Brutus gives a perfectly serviceable speech. He speaks with candor and humility. He speaks of friendship and duty. He speaks reasonably. Antony, however, follows with a knockout speech. (Also, watch Damian Lewis perform Antony’s funeral speech. ) He utilizes poetic device, repetition, and emotion. He praises Brutus many times, but ends his speech: “O judgment! Thou are fled to brutish beasts,/ And men have lost their reason” (III,ii,109-10). “[B]rutish” is very nearly Brutus. In other words, those who used to represent the epitome of reason now make no sense. Clearly, Antony knows people whereas Brutus knows the law. But who is to be believed? Did Caesar offer all the money and favors to the poor in earnest? What part of Antony’s speech is theatrics and what part real?

I think it matters very little whether one finds this play more reflective of Shakespeare’s time or Roman times. Though 1,000 years separates Roman speeches from Shakespeare’s play, the characters play large roles still played out today. A number of sources (Plutarch included) have noted Antony’s eloquence and Brutus’s honor, but do they act virtuously? To me, the play demonstrates larger human truths with which we still wrestle (and likely always will): what is justice, virtue or nobility? Who demonstrates it and how are we to judge of honesty?

In hindsight, we also know that in the future, Antony’s passions and ambition will overcome his reason and good-will. These faults only grow larger with his rise to fame. So, we are left with a scenario where either Brutus pursues nobility to a fault or Antony overindulges at everyone’s expense. The irony is that good and bad elements were always present in their characters and in their political rhetoric, but it took time to discover which trait would dominate.

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From King to Rankine

January 18, 2019

Thanks to Alissa Simon, HMU Tutor, for today’s post.

Every Martin Luther King, Jr. Day, I enjoy rereading some of Dr. King’s remarkable works. As a culture, we are still coming to terms with his life, his death, and his very beautiful words. Personally, his words resonate with me in any number of ways. Foremost, perhaps, is the fact that he calls for honest (and perhaps painful) dialogue. The “Letter from Birmingham Jail,” for example, is a rational response to eight clergymen who called King’s activities “unwise and untimely.” In this letter, King writes that he cannot respond to all criticism, but he wants to address their particular concerns because he feels that they “are men of genuine good will” and that their “criticisms are sincerely set forth.” This, then, is a necessary prerequisite to any actual dialogue: the open-minded ability to weigh another person’s argument.

This same element of discussion is being embraced throughout America in a number of ways. I recently listened to an OnBeing podcast of a discussion between Claudia Rankine, the Frederick Iseman Professor of Poetry at Yale University and founder of The Racial Imaginary Institute, and Krista Tippett. My favorite moment of this discussion is perhaps also one of the more uncomfortable moments in which Krista Tippett takes for granted the idea that in the ‘70s or ‘80s American society had moved past race. Claudia Rankine interrupts her and says, “Don’t say ‘surely we were past this.’” She means to say that the more nuanced elements of racism linger in ways that outsiders can hardly imagine and so while some people saw progress, others were still seeing perpetuated injustices like disproportionate incarceration rates. The moment is slightly uncomfortable, but the result is a shared understanding, which to me is the greatest achievement of dialogue. Not all moments will be successful or transcendent, but these small moments work toward a greater good. The transcript of this section reads:

Ms. Tippett: Well, right. But I think there are reasons to feel that, to be nervous. And it’s interesting, because there aren’t that many people, even just given this conversation - there aren’t that many people like Eula [Biss], saying, let’s talk about whiteness. Let’s talk about whiteness. There was actually a moment in that conversation with her where - two white people talking about whiteness, and we both agreed that it was mortifying and embarrassing and messy. Part of it is, you feel like, surely, we were past this. We shouldn’t be having to have this conversation at this advanced age. She talked about how —

Ms. Rankine: Krista, don’t say that. Don’t say, “Surely we were past this.”

Ms. Tippett: I think that’s one reason people feel awkward, because we’re still getting over from this cathartic five years —

Ms. Rankine: No, but you know: mass incarceration — you know what’s happening.

Ms. Tippett: I know.

Ms. Rankine: So not “surely” — I mean, those things were always happening.

Ms. Tippett: They were, but I think people who grew up in the ’60s and ’70s and ’80s and ’90s were born into a world in which they were told that yes, sure, it wasn’t perfect yet, but we were inexorably moving past it. That’s an instinct. And now we’re having to unlearn and say, actually, we weren’t anywhere. We just made baby steps. That’s what I mean.

Ms. Rankine: OK, OK.

I appreciate Claudia Rankine’s persistence and care with speech, and also her patience to understand Krista Tippett’s response. I also appreciate Krista Tippett’s ability to explain what she meant and how she meant it. Subjects such as racism are personal and offensive and often instill hateful rhetoric. To me, this conversation demonstrates necessary elements of reason, patience, and open minds.

It is important, perhaps vital, to note the moments when people disagree. As a leader of conversations, I try to take advantage of those awkward moments, which is not always easy (or successful). The conversation between Rankine and Tippett reminded me, once more, of Dr. King’s words. More than anything, he is frustrated by the “appalling silence of good people.” He writes that “injustice must be exposed, with all the tension its exposure creates, to the light of human conscience and the air of national opinion before it can be cured.”

This conversation deals specifically with elements of race, but dialogue is a necessary aspect of all human relations. I find that the more we practice open-minded listening, the better we will become as a society.

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