Transcending Blackness
8th February 2016 · 0 Comments
By Edmund W. Lewis
Editor
It’s mind-boggling to me that here we are nearly two-decades deep into the 21st century and more than 150 years removed from the signing of the Emancipation Proclamation and there are still Black folks in the entertainment industry looking for white validation.
The whole flare-up about the failure of the 2016 Oscars award committee to nominate any people of African descent has me seeing Black. Jet Black.
Talk about worrying’ ‘bout the wrong thang.
Some of the folks in Hollywood who look like us actually think that if they somehow managed to be acknowledged and/or celebrated by the all-white membership of the Academy Awards, everyone would be in love with them like they had an Oscar Meyer wiener. Negroes, please…
But that’s where we are in America, somewhere between “clueless” Stacy Dash telling an audience on Eurocentric and ultraconservative FOX television network that if Blacks want to be a part of the American people they should do away with white-owned Black Entertainment Television and actor Will Smith advising actress Vivica Fox to be “colorless” if she wants to achieve longevity in the entertainment industry.
That’s both a symptom of how lost and confused we are and part of the reason we are so lost and confused.
Then there’s actress Jada Pinkett Smith, who channeled hip-hop activist Sista Souljah in urging Black America to skip the Oscars since her husband’s latest film, Concussion, was not nominated in any categories at this year’s Oscars. Really, Jada?
That’s the same Jada Pinkett Smith who was reportedly caught up in Hollywood’s matrix of hedonism and excess while keeping up with the (TomKat) Cruises of that warped world and allowing her children to act like they lost their ever-loving minds. Not exactly what one might expect from a sista-queen from Baltimore who grew up with Tupac Shakur and showed so much promise during her early yeas in the industry.
To his credit, Will Smith had enough sense to distance himself from his wife’s rants about White Hollywood’s exclusionary practices. He knew better than to bite the hand that has been feeding him since he left West Philly.
I am embarrassed about how much time and energy was wasted debating whether comedian/actor Chris Rock should have backed away from his scheduled performance as host of the Oscars. Who cares?
Do you really think the same folks that refused to nominate any performances by people of African descent would lose any sleep if Chris Rock would have backed out of his deal or if Black people turned off their “idiot boxes”?
Most than likely, Black folks would have found something equally insulting to people of African descent and mind-numbing to watch on television. Like one of those “Oh-no-you-didn’t” reality TV shows or one of those sitcoms dripping with stereotypical images of Black people and white actors and actresses slinging Black vernacular for a few laughs.
As the world prepared to watch what will likely become a major television event last week, one line from the racially charged series stands out: “I’m not Black, I’m O.J.”
That one line, as tragic and ironic as it is, underscores the mindset of far too many people of African descent not only in Hollywood and professional sports, but in high-earning positions throughout Corporate America as well.
Despite the myriad of hints about how White America as a whole feels about Black people, particularly in the wake of the many unarmed killings of Black people over the past few years and the unprecedented disrespect shown for President Barack Obama, there is still this pressing desire among far too many of us to be loved, accepted and validated by White America, this unrelenting effort to transcend Blackness.
After everything we have been through in this strange land, we are still running away from who we are. We are running away from anything even vaguely related to the Black experience even as the rest of the world pays attention to our every utterance, artistic expression, sensibility and dance move. If we don’t value who we are and what we create by simply being our authentic, African selves, those outside of our community make it clear that they are more than willing to take all that immaculate Blackness, swag and ingenuity off our hands.
Oh, how I long for the days of Black filmmakers like Oscar Micheaux and Gordon Parks and the pride and dignity of Black folks who took seriously their responsibility to represent the rest of us when they took center stage.
There is nothing more empowering and gratifying than to revisit Black films made during the days of segregation when Black folks knew who they were and whose they were. When Black folks grew their own food on farms and understood that land ownership meant political and economic power. When Black people supported their own businesses and Black entrepreneurs could be counted on to provide communities of color with quality goods and services. When Black churches took seriously their role in the struggle and moved heaven and earth to ensure that Black children were provided with every opportunity to be successful, productive members of the community.
When Black leaders, statesmen, journalists, artists, filmmakers and everyday Black people realized that Black Images Matter and did not allow anyone outside of the Black community to tell us who we were or determine our self-worth.
I even long for the early days of hip hop when Black recording artists displayed their knowledge of self and sense of Black pride in their lyrics and lifestyle. When Public Enemy hype man Flavor Flav said “Who gives a f%ck about a goddam Grammy” and A Tribe Called Quest’s Phife Dawg let the world know that he “never let a statue tell me how nice I am.”
That seems like a million years ago.
In a sense it was.
While those days were beset with their own challenges and roadblocks, they were better days because many of us knew and understood that all we had was us.
Nowadays, far too many of us are caught up in an ever-growing ball of confusion, self-absorption and instant gratification. Many of us can’t even see beyond our own wants and needs and waste precious time and energy in efforts to be loved and accepted by the larger society.
The solution is actually quite simple: We need to get back to being us.
We need to get back to being who the Creator made us to be and rediscover who we are. We need to get back to the kind of revolutionary love that sustained us as we faced uncertain futures in slave fortresses along the coast of West Africa and in the bellies of slave-trading vessels.
We need to get back to appreciating and celebrating the many gifts the Creator bestowed upon us and respecting the instructions of our ancient Kemetic (Egyptian) Ancestors to “know thyself.” To know ourselves is to love and respect ourselves. Loving ourselves is not only the greatest love of all — it is a major step along the path to fulfilling our divine missions as descendants of a proud people crafted in the image of the Creator.
This article originally published in the February 8, 2016 print edition of The Louisiana Weekly newspaper.
