Great POTUS photo.

[Martin Red]

We don't BIFURCATE blackness here, Martin. That's the one positive of the wretched accident of chattel slavery, followed by our forced survival of abandonment after emancipation. When all of us were lumped in and grouped together as slaves/coloreds/negros/blacks, any ideals related to tribes/regional identity were erased. We weren't able to leverage pride from where we would have hailed because no one had that information. I don't know how it works in the UK, where perhaps Nigerians feel separate and apart from, say, Carribeans. In the USA, we's black. Black at birth or black by choice, no matter. From where in the world one's black skin may have originated is a technicality.

Granted, there are so many subcultures within overall black American culture that taking anyone as just black is a huge error and indiginity, but these are things that black folks know about ourselves that non-black folks don't. Sure, we take into account who is, say, Creole or how much native American another person can trace in their family tree. We take score on who has what ratio of which European peoples in them, but the Irish in me never gets in the way of the British in my black neighbors next door. The Irish in me also finds commonality with my Boston Irish friends here in L.A. Can't say they find commonality with the black in me, however we do enjoy the differences.

To folks looking from the outside in, where the only measure of status is which colony you come from, sure - y'all may look at President Obama as a half-Nigerian born and raised by Irish blooded Americans. That's how you've all been trained to see your fellow colonized subjects. You come up in here with all that half-This and quarter-that, know what we say?

"Who that nigga think he foolin'?"

It's a crude form of unity, perhaps. It's still unity.

Thanks Danny, that does make sense. Apologies for my directness, as you know dancing around a subject isn't my thing, and I know skirting isn't for you either.

I was un-tactfully looking at his lineage, just saying what I see. Who was limited to their location on a bus, in America from his recent past, and i'de say no one ?, maybe i'm wrong , his dad was an african in africa and his mom was a white women in America. Then there's the class thing, poor people are usually the ones on buses, middle- upper drive cars and are driven.

In regards to UK, i'de say the issue that rises to the top more often that not is class, for centuries. Btw, Any leader that wishes for national healthcare is a good egg in my opinion.

[LOKEE]

who am i?

"the first step backward being the electing of the first black president BECAUSE it awakened the deep seeded resentment and hatred of a people by a people who thought this day would never come"

the above was my first post. was that not clear enough?

With respect, TAD, post-WW2 African American communities recognized that buses produced a space at the intersection of exclusionary oppression and marketplace exploitation. That is to say, that the bus was a space that had to be shared due to it being the primary means by which the working-class went to work. African American riders recognized this and actively used the intersection to stage what Robin Kelley has called "small war zones." His description of the Birmingham transit system is instructive: "The commoditized nature of public transportation, the growing number of black and white working-class passengers, and the highly charged political atmosphere caused by [WW2] turned buses and street cars into theaters in the sense of small war zones as well. They provided microcosms of race, class, and gender conflict that raged in other social spaces through out the city (i.e., sidewalks, parks, and streets) but otherwise rare found a place in the public record. . ."

Kelley's research reveals that these war zones found a variety of actors, but of primary importance were three: returning soldiers, young men and working-women. For brevity's sake, I'll just quote a few lines from each:

Soldiers: "In a world where clothes carried a great deal of social meaning and were often signifiers of power (or the lack thereof), black men in uniform saw themselves as representing a higher authority and, therefore, felt empowered to act on principle. More importantly, their uniforms signified a clear, active opposition to fascism and Aryan supremacy, which is precisely what African American's experienced in the South as far as black soldiers were concerned. Occasionally, black servicemen tried to turn individual acts of resistance into collective battles, by drawing other passengers or military personnel into the fray."

Young Men: "We must not exaggerate the extent to which resistance on buses were initiated by black servicemen. Most young men who contested the power of operators to confine blacks to inadequate spaces, which challenged racist remarks and gestures, or who engaged in outrageous acts of rebellion as a means of 'testing the limits' of Jim Crow had more in common with the zoot suiters of LA or Detroit than the upright soldiers who tended to be more acceptable role models. There are clear differences between the two. The soldiers clothes and style signified an antifascist, pro-democratic message. By contrast, the language and culture of the 'hipster' represented a privileging of ethnic identity and masculinity and a rejection of subservience. Young black males created fast-paced, improvisational language which sharply contrasted with the passive stereotype of the stuttering, tongue tied Sambo. In a world where whites commonly addressed them as 'boy,' zoot suiters made a fetish of calling each other 'man." The zoot suiters constructed an identity in which their gendered and racial meanings were inseparable; opposition to racist oppression was mediated through masculinity."

Working Women: "The large number of incidents involving black women also challenge the myth that most opposition to Birmingham's segregated transit system was waged by black male soldiers. In fact, although the available records are incomplete, it seems that black women outnumbered black men in number of incidents of resistance on buses on street cars. [Kelley assigns this number to the fact that "black working women . . . generally rode public transportation more often than men] Unlike the popular image of Rosa Park's quiet resistance, most black women's opposition tended to be profane and militant."

Setting the site: "Open black resistance on Birmingham's public transit system conveyed a sense of dramatic opposition to Jim Crow, before an audience, in a powerful way.But discursive strategies, an apparently more evasive form of resistance, carried dramatic appeal as well. No Matter how well drivers, conductors, and signs kept bodies separated, black voices could always flow easily into the section designated for whites, serving as a constant reminder that racially divided public spaces was contested terrain. Black passengers were routinely ejected and occasionally arrested, for making too much noise, which in many cases turned out to be harsh words directed at a conductor or passenger, or a monologue about racism in general. . . The voices themselves, especially the loud and profane, literally penetrated and occupied white spaces. Moreover, the act of cursing, for which only black passengers were arrested, elicited police intervention, not because of the state maintained stricxt moral standards. . . . but, rather, because it represented a serious transgression of the racial boundaries. . . Some might argue that these hundreds of everyday acts of resistance. . . amounted to very little since they were primarily individual, isolated events which almost always ended in defeat. But such an argument misses the uniquely dramaturgical quality of social intercourse within the interior spaces of public conveyances. Whenever passengers were present, no act of defiance was isolated, nor were acts of defiance isolating experiences. On the contrary, because African American passengers shared a collective memory of how they were treated [DG, per usual, gets us here in much less words] on a daily basis, both within and without the 'moving theaters,' an act of resistance or repression sometimes drew other passengers into the fray, thus escalating into collective action, and always impressed itself on other passengers memories."


In light of Kelley's reading, I want to suggest that it is possible to read the picture as a staging that functions as a modern-day janus, looking simultaneously into the past and the future. It re-stages--signifies on--Rosa Parks to show us--all of us--how far we have come and how far we have to go. It is a response to the "deep-seated" feelings that you identify. In other words, his election did not so much "awaken" racism; it merely disrupted unchecked white privilege. Those feelings were always already present and in ample evidence before Obama's election. The prison population; racial profiling; voter fraud; school districts; the dismantling of cultural studies programs all evidence a similar message. What has changed is that Obama presents a threat to that privilege, and those who could formerly hide behind the institution now must defend its walls.

[ngeso]

Who was limited to their location on a bus, in America from his recent past, and i'de say no one ?, maybe i'm wrong , his dad was an african in africa and his mom was a white women in America.

Martin, collective memory tells you that everyone was on that bus, or would have been on that bus if situations had prevailed. Obama would have been on that bus.

[bomb cola]

who am i?

You're the guy who thinks the election of Barack Obama as President of the United States of America was a step backward for Black America.

[mhd]

Setting the site: "Open black resistance on Birmingham's public transit system conveyed a sense of dramatic opposition to Jim Crow, before an audience, in a powerful way.But discursive strategies, an apparently more evasive form of resistance, carried dramatic appeal as well. No Matter how well drivers, conductors, and signs kept bodies separated, black voices could always flow easily into the section designated for whites, serving as a constant reminder that racially divided public spaces was contested terrain. Black passengers were routinely ejected and occasionally arrested, for making too much noise, which in many cases turned out to be harsh words directed at a conductor or passenger, or a monologue about racism in general. . . The voices themselves, especially the loud and profane, literally penetrated and occupied white spaces. Moreover, the act of cursing, for which only black passengers were arrested, elicited police intervention, not because of the state maintained stricxt moral standards. . . . but, rather, because it represented a serious transgression of the racial boundaries. . . Some might argue that these hundreds of everyday acts of resistance. . . amounted to very little since they were primarily individual, isolated events which almost always ended in defeat. But such an argument misses the uniquely dramaturgical quality of social intercourse within the interior spaces of public conveyances. Whenever passengers were present, no act of defiance was isolated, nor were acts of defiance isolating experiences. On the contrary, because African American passengers shared a collective memory of how they were treated [DG, per usual, gets us here in much less words] on a daily basis, both within and without the 'moving theaters,' an act of resistance or repression sometimes drew other passengers into the fray, thus escalating into collective action, and always impressed itself on other passengers memories."


.

this is brilliant, i can almost hear anna deveare smith voicing the different roles ala "Fires in the Mirror"

[mhd]

... Obama presents a threat to that privilege, and those who could formerly hide behind the institution now must defend its walls.

How? with a photo? Anybody?

[LOKEE]

How? with a photo? Anybody?

MHD, my last post was not to suggest that a photo produces a threat, but, rather, that the "deep-seated" racism TAD identified as coming into being with Obama's election has always existed. What he sees as an awakening, I see as merely a reaction to the current moment--a reaction to the perceived threat a Black President signifies for those invested in not merely white privilege but, to be blunt because I am sick today, white-power.

As to the "power" of a photo, I'm halfway with you. It's not enough. But then what is? More importantly, that photo recreates the theater constituted by the Civil Rights Era and offers a space where it is possible--though never guaranteed--to exorcize the sanitized histories that too often cover-up the complications and complexities of the era. It allows for a critical retelling, away from the current history that positions Parks and King on the side of angels and Malcolm and the Panthers (to use the best known) on the side of hate. It allows for us to track the genealogical spectrum and show the political differences between Civil Rights leaders and Nationalists were as much an answer to the moment in which they were enacted as they were a difference in object and method. So, yes, Parks is a hero beyond reproach, but her 'quiet dignity' belonged to, was part of, a much broader method that included what Kelley calls the "loud and profane." In a country where the appropriateness of volume is too often determined by one's skin color, the lauding of quiet protest speaks volumes. I'd suggest that even framing silence as the location of dignity is problematic. To understand Parks' dignity as an ability to stay quiet is to miss her willingness to endure the violence and hatred of white riders and drivers so to effect change. And this photo allows us to get at the ways in which even the celebration of liberation can be put in service to a silencing.

To be sure, these narratives are always present, with or without a photo. What the photo provides is the opportunity to confront those histories whose focus on good/bad, violent/non-violent, right/wrong elide the complexities of the period--of any period. Is that enough? No, but it is something available right now.

[Daniel, Grand Duke of Stony Island]

Our man LOKEE is startlingly brilliant, is he not?

[ngeso]

Our man LOKEE is startlingly brilliant, is he not?

Surely you've not noticed only now?

[mhd]

MHD, my last post was not to suggest that a photo produces a threat, but, rather, that the "deep-seated" racism TAD identified as coming into being with Obama's election has always existed. What he sees as an awakening, I see as merely a reaction to the current moment--a reaction to the perceived threat a Black President signifies for those invested in not merely white privilege but, to be blunt because I am sick today, white-power.

As to the "power" of a photo, I'm halfway with you. It's not enough. But then what is? More importantly, that photo recreates the theater constituted by the Civil Rights Era and offers a space where it is possible--though never guaranteed--to exorcize the sanitized histories that too often cover-up the complications and complexities of the era. It allows for a critical retelling, away from the current history that positions Parks and King on the side of angels and Malcolm and the Panthers (to use the best known) on the side of hate. It allows for us to track the genealogical spectrum and show the political differences between Civil Rights leaders and Nationalists were as much an answer to the moment in which they were enacted as they were a difference in object and method. So, yes, Parks is a hero beyond reproach, but her 'quiet dignity' belonged to, was part of, a much broader method that included what Kelley calls the "loud and profane." In a country where the appropriateness of volume is too often determined by one's skin color, the lauding of quiet protest speaks volumes. I'd suggest that even framing silence as the location of dignity is problematic. To understand Parks' dignity as an ability to stay quiet is to miss her willingness to endure the violence and hatred of white riders and drivers so to effect change. And this photo allows us to get at the ways in which even the celebration of liberation can be put in service to a silencing.

To be sure, these narratives are always present, with or without a photo. What the photo provides is the opportunity to confront those histories whose focus on good/bad, violent/non-violent, right/wrong elide the complexities of the period--of any period. Is that enough? No, but it is something available right now.

i just don't think it helps at all, what is the point of power, what is the point of triumphant struggle if cats are satisfied, filled with joy at looking backwards at juxtaposing a black male president as a female teacher with her solitary quiet dignity? Not a good image. Not the image you want to see of a cat that has to prepare himself for the ultimate battle: re-election. Obama seems to be contemplating, "what was rosa feeling"? i can tell you that there are enemies within and without contemplating his defeat and putting us back in our place in the back of the bus, obama already sitting there makes it all to convenient for their imagination

[Daniel, Grand Duke of Stony Island]

Surely you've not noticed only now?

I've thought so since the first missive.


And don't call me Shirley.

[LOKEE]

Our man LOKEE is startlingly brilliant, is he not?

you've not noticed only now?

I'm humbled given how much I have learned from you guys.

[LOKEE]

i just don't think it helps at all, what is the point of power, what is the point of triumphant struggle if cats are satisfied, filled with joy at looking backwards at juxtaposing a black male president as a female teacher with her solitary quiet dignity? Not a good image. Not the image you want to see of a cat that has to prepare himself for the ultimate battle: re-election. Obama seems to be contemplating, "what was rosa feeling"? i can tell you that there are enemies within and without contemplating his defeat and putting us back in our place in the back of the bus, obama already sitting there makes it all to convenient for their imagination

MHD, thanks for the response. It's a lot to digest, so forgive me the floating responses that follow.

In light of the sobering reality that you present, I want to make clear that I am not suggesting that the picture provides an inherent power; rather, it, as with all photographs, obliges viewers to attach a narrative to it. And it is in this obligation that the opportunity to challenge the joyful, satisfied narrative emerges. We're doing that here and now.

I think we both agree that image--both in the photographic and character sense--is important. Where I diverge from you, I suspect, is in where and how meaning emerges. I would suggest that it is always in the narratives that articulate the picture. It is in our stories, both shared and individual, that a photograph takes on meaning. These stories--these histories--are always up for debate. They are always shifting, even and especially at moments in which they seem to have been calcified by time and 'fact.' And it is only when a new photo is taken--in both the literal and figurative sense--that we are given the opportunity to disrupt the embedded, reductive narrative. This photo--and all photos, to varying degrees of success--act as a platform upon which racist narratives can be challenged.

You mentioned Anna Deveare Smith a few posts up, and I can't help but be reminded of Twilight: Los Angeles, her mid-90s piece that explores various reactions to the Rodney King trial and the riots which followed. In it, she confronts the little known fact that jurors reported not being able to hear King's screams while he was beaten. All they could apprehend was his image, and it took King's aunt mentioning her pain in hearing King scream to alert many to the fact that more than an image existed. What does that sort of deafness say about our country? To my reading--by proxy of Deveare's text--the racist, reductive narratives attached to the black male body speak for and over the individual. This is problematic, and, worse, it is endemic. To use one current example, we can see it in the ways in which the Trayvon William's tragedy was read through a hoodie--and not his recorded screams. Image is important, but more important are the ways in which we narrate them--the ways in which we not only see them but also listen to them.

That is not to say that the picture in question is equivalent to the situations I mention. Obama sitting in a seat opposite from where Rosa Parks was photographed is, no doubt, different from both King and William's situations. The stakes are higher, and the photo is complicated by the facts that you bring up, and I can assuredly say that I have started this paragraph three times because your points are well taken. And, yet, I still arrive at the fact that the photograph offers us an opportunity for unseating the current narrative that forecloses the possibility of variety and agency. To some degree, such possibility precisely rests within the differences between Parks and Obama.

It is precisely in the ways that the picture differs from the famous Parks' photograph that the opportunity for critique is rich. Amiri Baraka uses the phrase "the changing-same" to speak about the Black tradition/experience and the way it is simultaneously collective and unique to the individual. While the phrase is vague--and purposely so--I think it offers us an interesting way to read the photograph. Obama's image is, at once, vastly different from Parks' image in all the ways you mention and, at the same time, aware of the ways in which even as President his opponents can't seem to hear over his body. As such, he's not so much at the back of the bus as he is articulating--in the sense of a truck to trailer--the past and the present. This articulation doesn't render him powerless; it merely demands a new narrative. And it does this by presenting a situation which, upon first glance, appears either absurd or sad--depending on where your politics lie. More directly, the president would never have to sit at the back of the bus, and, yet, there he is. The photo demands we ask why.

Finally, I tread lightly regarding the enemies of which you speak, if only because I know your work places you in a position to know the realities better than me. But I have to wonder whether this photograph becomes the pin, as you propose, that blasts Obama to the back of the bus. Those sentiments--that desire--seems to exist before and after this picture. That narrative seems to exist before and after this photo as well. As such--and, of course, correct me if I'm reading this wrong--I can't help but return to my initial point; what we have is an opportunity to demand that the new narrative complicates the current one; that it gives voice, that it sees the black body in possession of agency, and, most importantly, that it does away with the more subtle forms of racism which understands blackness--as opposed to racism--as a cause or determinant of limitation.

[Daniel, Grand Duke of Stony Island]

It's very simple, y'all.

It's election season. Obama sat where Rosa Parks sat because he can.

Mitt Romney can't sit there, can he? Where can ol' Mitt sit where a photo of him would have more relevance? Where will Marco Rubio sit? And wherever he sits, he'll be sitting for a photo after POTUS sat. The current president sat in the place where the ascension of a black American to the presidency began. Afterward, he rose from the same spot where brave folks like Rosa Parks rose and said, "Fuck this noise!"

It's genius. It's what black voters want to see leading to an election. It works on both visceral and intellectual levels. It's telling black folks, "Join me in protecting our ascension."

Forest for the trees, y'all. It ain't a photo. It's an IMAGE. It's a DEVICE. Romney and Rubio have to talk all around the world to come anywhere near the impact this photo will have on the election. This was meant for big city black folks and those who may not be black but appreciate a black POTUS who can uphold his history. Frickin' Axelrod keepin' the wheels movin'.

So yeah...it ain't all that hard to see. It's a little more sugar and ice in the blue Kool-Aid. "Oh yeah...the first black president losing reelection would be a huge social setback. Guess I do have a reason to go to the polls." We can relax a bit.

[Armento]

I need to find 10 minutes and put have my inner Colin Powell take a nap

[ngeso]

I need to find 10 minutes and put have my inner Colin Powell take a nap

And put down the food.

[Armento]

And put down the food.

i'll get back to you on the thing you asked too. woman's formulating ideas.

[ngeso]

i'll get back to you on the thing you asked too. woman's formulating ideas.

Ack!

[TAD]

With respect, TAD, post-WW2 African American communities recognized that buses produced a space at the intersection of exclusionary oppression and marketplace exploitation. That is to say, that the bus was a space that had to be shared due to it being the primary means by which the working-class went to work. African American riders recognized this and actively used the intersection to stage what Robin Kelley has called "small war zones." His description of the Birmingham transit system is instructive: "The commoditized nature of public transportation, the growing number of black and white working-class passengers, and the highly charged political atmosphere caused by [WW2] turned buses and street cars into theaters in the sense of small war zones as well. They provided microcosms of race, class, and gender conflict that raged in other social spaces through out the city (i.e., sidewalks, parks, and streets) but otherwise rare found a place in the public record. . ."

Kelley's research reveals that these war zones found a variety of actors, but of primary importance were three: returning soldiers, young men and working-women. For brevity's sake, I'll just quote a few lines from each:

Soldiers: "In a world where clothes carried a great deal of social meaning and were often signifiers of power (or the lack thereof), black men in uniform saw themselves as representing a higher authority and, therefore, felt empowered to act on principle. More importantly, their uniforms signified a clear, active opposition to fascism and Aryan supremacy, which is precisely what African American's experienced in the South as far as black soldiers were concerned. Occasionally, black servicemen tried to turn individual acts of resistance into collective battles, by drawing other passengers or military personnel into the fray."

Young Men: "We must not exaggerate the extent to which resistance on buses were initiated by black servicemen. Most young men who contested the power of operators to confine blacks to inadequate spaces, which challenged racist remarks and gestures, or who engaged in outrageous acts of rebellion as a means of 'testing the limits' of Jim Crow had more in common with the zoot suiters of LA or Detroit than the upright soldiers who tended to be more acceptable role models. There are clear differences between the two. The soldiers clothes and style signified an antifascist, pro-democratic message. By contrast, the language and culture of the 'hipster' represented a privileging of ethnic identity and masculinity and a rejection of subservience. Young black males created fast-paced, improvisational language which sharply contrasted with the passive stereotype of the stuttering, tongue tied Sambo. In a world where whites commonly addressed them as 'boy,' zoot suiters made a fetish of calling each other 'man." The zoot suiters constructed an identity in which their gendered and racial meanings were inseparable; opposition to racist oppression was mediated through masculinity."

Working Women: "The large number of incidents involving black women also challenge the myth that most opposition to Birmingham's segregated transit system was waged by black male soldiers. In fact, although the available records are incomplete, it seems that black women outnumbered black men in number of incidents of resistance on buses on street cars. [Kelley assigns this number to the fact that "black working women . . . generally rode public transportation more often than men] Unlike the popular image of Rosa Park's quiet resistance, most black women's opposition tended to be profane and militant."

Setting the site: "Open black resistance on Birmingham's public transit system conveyed a sense of dramatic opposition to Jim Crow, before an audience, in a powerful way.But discursive strategies, an apparently more evasive form of resistance, carried dramatic appeal as well. No Matter how well drivers, conductors, and signs kept bodies separated, black voices could always flow easily into the section designated for whites, serving as a constant reminder that racially divided public spaces was contested terrain. Black passengers were routinely ejected and occasionally arrested, for making too much noise, which in many cases turned out to be harsh words directed at a conductor or passenger, or a monologue about racism in general. . . The voices themselves, especially the loud and profane, literally penetrated and occupied white spaces. Moreover, the act of cursing, for which only black passengers were arrested, elicited police intervention, not because of the state maintained stricxt moral standards. . . . but, rather, because it represented a serious transgression of the racial boundaries. . . Some might argue that these hundreds of everyday acts of resistance. . . amounted to very little since they were primarily individual, isolated events which almost always ended in defeat. But such an argument misses the uniquely dramaturgical quality of social intercourse within the interior spaces of public conveyances. Whenever passengers were present, no act of defiance was isolated, nor were acts of defiance isolating experiences. On the contrary, because African American passengers shared a collective memory of how they were treated [DG, per usual, gets us here in much less words] on a daily basis, both within and without the 'moving theaters,' an act of resistance or repression sometimes drew other passengers into the fray, thus escalating into collective action, and always impressed itself on other passengers memories."


In light of Kelley's reading, I want to suggest that it is possible to read the picture as a staging that functions as a modern-day janus, looking simultaneously into the past and the future. It re-stages--signifies on--Rosa Parks to show us--all of us--how far we have come and how far we have to go. It is a response to the "deep-seated" feelings that you identify. In other words, his election did not so much "awaken" racism; it merely disrupted unchecked white privilege. Those feelings were always already present and in ample evidence before Obama's election. The prison population; racial profiling; voter fraud; school districts; the dismantling of cultural studies programs all evidence a similar message. What has changed is that Obama presents a threat to that privilege, and those who could formerly hide behind the institution now must defend its walls.

thank you LOKEE for not throwing me under the bus.

forgive me but it took me a month to finish reading your response. lol!

i apologize for not being more clear, sometimes someone else`s words can reflect what another person is trying to say. my use of the word awakening was misleading. im no complete stranger to american history, both past and present and certainly less of a stranger to the continued efforts of economic slavery and white privilege. a disruption in that unchecked white privilege, as you put it, speaks more toward what i was trying to convey.

thank you, it was a great read!!

[TAD]

You're the guy who thinks the election of Barack Obama as President of the United States of America was a step backward for Black America.

you seem to have a thing for me. are you gay? are you frustrated with your life so much so that you feel compelled to step in and put me in my place instead of respectful dialogue? do you put down your children, nephews, nieces. you know internet personalities are not that far off from the real world. it speaks to your character. not to mention being the lap dog of some of the more vocal proponents on the page, you consistently feel the need to step in with your snide remarks to perhaps feel like one of the boys.

if you think you can walk a mile in my shoes, i`ll tip my hat off to you. until then take a hike, you`re like a pesky insect.