used to me. Black, confident, cocky; my name, not yours; my religion, not yours; my goals, my own; get used to me.” He refused to be afraid, and this toughness had reverberations to this day, despite his later "depoliticization" and other complexities (http://www.thenation.com/article/i-just-wanted-to-be-free-the-radical-reverberations-of-muhammad-ali/). He defied stereotypes of what Black athletes were like as well as what it meant to be Muslim.
What does it mean, though, that his politics are largely unremembered today, especially by White communities? This is something I see forcefully in the legacies of Black men, notably Michael Jackson and, more recently, Prince. People of my generation knew MJ, yes, but it was difficult for us to understand how revolutionary he had been for Black folk in music, especially in the wake of the 1993 sex abuse allegations, which certainly should not be swept under the rug. And Prince--although he was remembered by many as a sort of post-racial pop star who broke "boundaries" (whatever that genericness means), he was political. He was Black and political and queer and revolutionary, and he empowered others to follow (http://www.thefader.com/2016/04/22/prince-black-politics). He advocated feminism and helped women of color succeed in the industry (http://themuse.jezebel.com/prince-spent-his-life-elevating-and-mentoring-women-1772479454).
There are many others, many people of color who have written about these issues better and with more frequency, but I want this post to be a call to go and read their work. Educate ourselves on these legacies--and, more importantly, the legacies of famous women of color, and those still living. The politics of these people matter, as do their lives, and they must not be simplified or whitewashed when they enter the cultural (American) canon.
No comments:
Post a Comment
Note: only a member of this blog may post a comment.