The Little Black Book by Little Black Book

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2011

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ISSUE

CO-EDITORS: ANTUAN JOHNSON, ‘13 AMAKA OKUNJI, ‘13 LAYOUT EDITORS: AURIEL GALLIMORE, ‘13 MARVIN HARRIS, ‘12 RUANI RIBE, ‘12

“...society portrays the

illusion that everything is equal and success is determined by how hard a person has worked...”

BUSINESS MANAGER JOIVONNAH CHILDS, ‘13 UMOJA REPRESENTATIVE CYDNEY GILLON, ‘14 LOGO SEAN LAUGHLIN WRITERS: ADERINOLA ADEJARE, ‘13 EMILY GOSHEY, ‘13 CHRISTINA HARDISON, ‘15 BRIANA HENRY, ‘13 ANTUAN JOHNSON, ‘13 TAYLOR MCLENDON, ‘15 NANETTE NUNU, ‘14 AMAKA OKUNJI, ‘13 CLARISSA PALMER ‘14 RUANI RIBE, ‘12

CONTRIBUTORS: GREGORY ALMONORD, ‘14 SAMIRA ALSTON, ‘13 CORTNEY CHARLESTON, ‘12 DR. LYNDON K. GILL MULU HABTEMARIAM, ‘12 NANA-YAA MISA, ‘12 GABRIELLE PATTERSON, ‘15 COVER: ADERINOLA ADEJARE, ‘13 GEORGE HARDY, ‘12 MARVIN HARRIS, ‘12 RUTHIE HUBBARD, ‘12 DEBRA OKAFOR, ‘12

“I have never held hands beneath the stars.”

“Born a woman, for girls exist not but for a minute”

Feature

Student Leaders

Essays

The Muslims Next Door

Sexual Racism

The “Fist-Bump”:

The Obstacles They Have to Overcome

Race and Gender in the Obamas’ 2008 Campaign Trail 10

Poetry

Holding Hands Beneath The Stars

What Shall I Do?

Square Thoughts

You Call It Tradition (Umkhuba)

To the Boy with the Infinite Playlist

Featured Artwork

Giraffes at Sunset

Flight

Kai

We Carry The Same Burden

Interviews

Faculty Spotlight: Dr. Lyndon K. Gill

Mr. Quaker: Mulu Habtemariam

Miss Independent: Nana-Yaa Misa

Artist Spotlight: Cortney Charleston

Contents

Student

Leaders

Pictured from left to right: Marvin Harris, Ruthie Hubbard, Aderinola Adejare, George Hardy, Debra Okafor

The Little Black Book asked leaders of the black community at Penn, “What has been the greatest reward as a leader in the Penn community?”

George Hardy Class of 2012

Major: Gender, Sexuality, and Women’s Studies Activities: Black Student League, Onyx Senior Honor Society, Big Brothers Big Sister of America, MotorCity Urban Summer Enrichment. “The greatest reward of being a leader on Penn's campus is having the chance to grow and develop as an individual. Becoming involved with the Black Student League as a freshmen allowed me the opportunity to gain knowledge, experience, and mentorship by some of the most influential men and women on Penn's campus at the time.” 4

The Little Black Book | Fall 2011

Debra Okafor Class of 2012

Major: Health and Societies, Disease and Society Concentration Activities: New Spirit of Penn Gospel Choir, Minority Association of Pre-Health Students, Onyx Senior Honor Society “The greatest reward for me has been the opportunity to continue a legacy at Penn through the organizations that I have helped lead and to know that I have been able to leave my mark here in some form. Also, I love that I have the chance to help underclassmen and help make their freshman experience special.”

Marvin Harris Class of 2012

Major: Architecture Activities: Onyx Senior Honor Society, The Little Black Book, The Vision, Ase Academy “The greatest reward as a leader has simply been the ability to act as a positive example for African-American achievement here on campus.”

Ruthie Hubbard Class of 2012

Major: Communications and Marketing Activities: Sister Sister, Black Wharton Undergraduate Association, Big Brothers Big Sister of America, Onyx Senior Honor Society “As a leader in the Penn community, I feel that the greatest gift you can give a peer is the feeling of empowerment. This can be demonstrated in a variety of ways such as helping people find the confidence to state un-popular opinions in a Sister Sister discussion or present themselves in the best possible way in a career fair.”

Aderinola Adejare Class of 2013

Major: Sociology - Health & Medicine and African Studies Activities: Penn African Student Association, African-American Arts Alliance, Ase Academy “I love meeting new people, making new friends, and establishing fruitful connections. This has been one of the greatest rewards as a leader in the Penn community. I am able to interact with a diverse set of people, learn from their experiences, and in turn use those lessons, interactions, and experiences to grow not only personally, but also to increase the progress of my organizations.” The Little Black Book | Fall 2011

The

Muslims Next Door

By Emily Goshey, ‘13

For many Americans, news reports displaying Palestinian men screaming “Allahu Akbar!” are their primary exposure to Muslims. They may encounter a woman wearing a headscarf on occasion and perhaps they have a cousin who has a few Muslim children in his fifth grade math class, but with less than one percent of Americans selfidentifying as Muslim, it is far more likely that the average American has formed his or her impression of Muslims from the six-o-clock news. Even as an Islamic Studies major, exposure to Islam usually means studying specific groups of ethnically Arab or South Asian Muslims. American Islamic culture is rare if not entirely absent from the classroom discussion. African-Americans represent the exception to this general lack of exposure to American Muslims. Urban African-American communities have seen large-scale conversions of their men and women to various forms of Islam since the 1920s. From the Moorish Science Temple to the Nation of Islam in the earlier years to mainstream Sunni Islam (AlIslam) and Salafism in more recent times, the Muslim communities in the United States have attracted far more converts from African-American descent than any other ethnic group. In addition, their primary exposure to Islam comes through fellow AfricanAmericans who practice Islam and not through immigrants or foreign communities. This ethnically-specific exposure to Islam has created a fascinating cultural exchange between Muslims and African-Americans. For most Americans, Muslims represent a fringe community; however, Islam has such deep roots in the African6

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American community that even non-Muslim African-Americans have started to demonstrate the extent to which Islam has influenced their culture. For instance, Islamic names such as Jamal (Arabic: beauty) and Aaliyah (Arabic: elevated, elite) have become common names not only among African-American Muslims, but also among African-Americans of various religious affiliations. Neither NFL player Jamal Curtis nor the late R&B star Aaliyah were Muslim, yet no one has questioned why they carry Islamic names. Their Arabic/Islamic names would have seemed far more out of place had they been Caucasian (how many Caucasian families name their sons Jamal?), but the practice of giving Arabic names to children is so mainstream within the African-American community that the American public does not associate certain common names with Islam. An African-American Muslim friend of mine even laughed about having once overheard an African-American parent calling out to his child, “Come here, Malik! You don’t want to buy that hat; that’s a Muslim hat,” completely unaware that just a few decades ago, the name Malik (Arabic: king or ruler) was almost exclusively a ‘Muslim name.’ Certain Arabic expressions have even found a place within African-American colloquialisms. For example, young African-American men in cities across the Northeast commonly use the word “aki” to refer to one another. This term comes from the Arabic word, akhi, which means ‘my brother.’ Even within rap, a genre of music closely associated with the African-American identity, discussions of encounters with Islam appear frequently. For instance, Tupac Shakur’s hit single “I

Ain’t Mad at Cha” contains the following lyrics: Collect calls to the till, sayin’ how ya changed Oh you a Muslim now, no more dope game Heard you might be comin’ home, just got bail Wanna go to the Mosque, don’t wanna chase tail It seems I lost my little homie he’s a changed man Hit the pen and now no sinnin’ is the game plan When I talk about money all you see is the struggle When I tell you I’m livin’ large you tell me it’s trouble.

Tupac’s personal story of witnessing a friend embrace Islam is far from unusual. In fact, so many young African-American men convert to Islam in prisons that the bad-gangster-turnedpious-Muslim has become a stereotype. The influence of Islam upon AfricanAmerican culture extends beyond the realm of words and into the world of appearances. This phenomenon is especially prevalent here in Philadelphia. The combination of a shaved head and a long beard has, for centuries, been a symbol of Islamic piety. Keeping a long beard, though never an exclusively Islamic symbol, has had associations with Islam for over 1400 years because it is one way for Muslims to follow the tradition of the Prophet Mohammed. In addition, when a man undertakes the Islamic pilgrimage to Mecca, he must shave his head. In recent years, African-American Muslims have been such a visible group in Philadelphia that their fashion trends, including their Islamic haircuts, have influenced the rest of the community. An African-American man with a shaved head and a long beard walking down Market Street might be Muslim, but often is not. With so many African-American Muslim converts in the United States, it is easy to understand why non-Muslim African-Americans have begun to absorb names, colloquialisms, and even hairstyles that are culturally Islamic. Whenever there is enough exposure to a culture, elements of that culture eventually influence the rest of society, and African-American exposure to Islamic culture has been profound for almost a century. One would be hard pressed to find an African-American individual in Philadelphia who has no Muslim friends or family.

In essence, Islam is a part of everyday life for African-Americans in Philadelphia and in many cities throughout the United States. Though the majority of Americans think of Arabs in the Middle East when they think of Muslims, African-Americans probably think of their neighbors, their friends, and often their own family members. In our era of globalization and heightened interaction between America and the Islamic world, a basic understanding of Islam is becoming essential. It is often the tendency of American media sources to look to the Middle East or Middle Eastern immigrants as sources of information on Islam and Islamic identity. This means that these sources tend to overlook the largest Muslim community in the nation, which is probably also the most capable of communicating with their fellow Americans about what Islam truly is. If Americans are to truly gain an understanding of Islam as a global religion and Islamic societies worldwide, we should start by learning about the Muslims in our own country – not just immigrants, but those who were born and raised American and contribute to new American cultural trends. Understanding Arab Muslims in Damascus or Baghdad is essential to a better understanding of global Islam, but we will be much more likely to gain a balanced and accurate perception of this world faith if we work to understand our African-American Muslim neighbors right here in the City of Brotherly Love.

The Little Black Book | Fall 2011

Sexual Racism

By Amaka Okunji,‘13

The relationship between sexuality and race today and in much of post-colonial history was based on Eurocentric, heterosexual culture constructs. Not only was there a hierarchy within sexual orientation (with heterosexuality as the norm and all other orientations as the ‘other’) but also within sexuality1 and sexual anatomy2. The differences and deviant bodies within these entities, seen from the perspectives of Western Europeans, were often deemed abnormal and stigmatized. More specifically, people within the African diaspora, were victims of these methods of sexual racism3. A hypersexual and hyper-heterosexual Black identity developed, consequently, through the objectification and exploitation of Black bodies. Fausto-Sterling stated that, “the fabrication of an Africanist persona was reflexive; an extraordinary meditation on the self; a powerful exploration of the fears and desires that reside in the writer’s conscious.” I agreed that it had been a pattern, both in exploration and colonization, to reflexively detach, objectify, and dehumanize an exotic person or civilization solely because of their foreign nature. In a more literal sense, the female body was often used as this terrain to be explore unabashed. Fauso-Sterling even compared the female body with land and stated that, “newly discovered lands were personified as female, and it seemed unsurprising that the women of these nations became the locus of scientific inquiry.” This was true with the manner of scientific study conducted on Sarah Bartmann. During that time period, these scientists as well as most of French civilization had adopted the idea that members of the African diaspora were subordinate and destined to remain at the lower rungs of society. This was evident in the classifications of the Bushmen, the Hottentot, the clear distinction between them and Egyptians, and the evolutionary comparisons between these people and advance primates. Yet, I was surprised to find that one of the tools used to instill these ideologies was the objectification, exploitation and analysis of Sarah’s sexuality and sexual anatomy. When comparing genitalia, “scholars used various forms of sexual anatomy—breasts, the presence of a hymen, the structure of the vaginal canal, and the placement of the urethral opening—to distinguish females from animals.”4 The thorough examination of her anatomy and nude exhibitions to crowds, created a new definition for her sexuality that was distinct from Europeans. It was a definition that deemed her inferior not only because of the color of her skin, or her placement in society, but also because her sexual anatomy was different and therefore, “abnormal, rather than as a part of a wider range of ‘normal’ human variation.”5 Her buttocks were round and her vaginal labia was elongated. These seemingly harmless differences, paired with the fact she was of African descent, 1. Here, sexuality is defined as an identity that is linked with explicit sexual behaviours, suggestions, inferences or sexual aggression 2. Here, sexual anatomy is defined as sexual genitalia and secondary sex characteristics. 3. By racism, here, I mean any ideology, act or belief that aims to undermine people of the African diaspora from social advancement. 4. Terry, Jennifer, and Jacqueline Urla. “Gender, Race and a Nation.” In Deviant bodies critical perspectives on difference in science and popular culture. Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1995. 212. 5. Ibid., 223

created a causal relationship and misconception that all members of the African diaspora were hypersexual and that hyper-sexuality was a common trait of this cultural group. Like Fausto-Sterling, I agree that though, “Bartmann’s bodily differences were constructed using social and scientific paradigms available at that time,” there were modern consequences to these conclusions. I believe that with these influences, the Black identity and body has been tainted by the relationship between sexuality and race because the body now took on new definitions that spoke for the Black identity as a whole. Body parts such as ‘booty’ were not only terms with sexual and promiscuous associations, but also terms that were blatantly associated with African-American people and culture. Ironically, in this context, it took on its literal definition as a “valuable prize, award, or gain that cannot be given away- it must be taken”6 Hill Collins believed that both African-American women and men played roles within this term in its usage and, “in this scenario, Black women became reduced to sexual spoils of war, with Black men defining masculinity in terms of their prowess in conquering the booty.”7 These roles were detrimental to Black women because they encouraged a hypersexual definition of femininity. They painted a picture of a savage, aggressive woman that needed, constantly accepted and anticipated sex. These women were called ‘sluts,’ ‘bitches,’ ‘whores,’ and promiscuous,’ because their bodies, which now spoke for their identities, illustrated that message. To take back ones autonomy, and adopt a less sexualized image, they were seen as being stereotypical ‘strong Black women’ and lost their femininity. These roles were also detrimental to Black men because they encouraged a hyper-heterosexual definition of masculinity. Like women, Black men were objectified with isolated anatomic features such as the penis and a muscular, athletic frame. Instead of being interpreted as mere characteristics, as with Bartmann, they were translated into violent and primitive dispositions. This objectification also subjected them to exploitation in athletics such as basketball, football or boxing. Hill Collins stated that they were, “depicted primarily as bodies ruled by brute strength and natural instincts, characteristics that allegedly fostered deviant behaviors of promiscuity and violence. The buck, brute, the rapist, and similar controlling images routinely applied to African-American men all worked to deny Black men the work of the mind that routinely translated into wealth and power.” I agreed that this image not only limited the Black image, but also perpetuated stereotypes. This image, I also believed, contributed to racial profiling by police and women, the high incarceration rate amongst African-American men, and the unrealistic goals of being a successful rapper or baller of young black boys. Black men, especially, were stuck in a double bind. On one side, in order to maintain their masculinity, they were called ‘thugs,’ players,’ ‘hoodlums,’ ‘violent,’ and ‘dangerous’. This came at a cost of incapability of advancing in society by gaining a job, social status or respect. On the other hand, to adopt a more docile, sophisticated, and less promiscuous façade meant to be emasculated. He was now called a ‘punk,’ ‘sissy,’ always plays the ‘sidekick,’ or was assumed to be homosexual. I agree with Hill Collins, that this new racism saw the ‘socially appropriate’ black men as disproportionally weak and ‘socially appropriate’ Black women as disproportionally strong. In order to fight this sexual racism, I believe that it is important to realize the distinction between race and sexuality, if not to severe the relationship completely. We need to understand that sexual racism is just as destructive as political, economic, or academic racism. And by understanding the development of this damaging relationship and the influence by these black bodies, we can change our mindsets, reject the stereotypes and take back the identities that they once had. Though this Africanist persona “requires hard work NOT to see,” by understanding it, we can learn to see the person that this persona misrepresents.

6. Collins, Patricia. “Booty Call.” In Black sexual politics: African Americans, gender, and the new racism. New York: Routledge, 2004. 150 7. Ibid., 151.

The Little Black Book | Fall 2011

The

“Fist-Bump”: Race and Gender in the Obamas’ 2008 Campaign Trail On November 4, 2008, people all over the United States rejoiced as Barack Obama was announced President and an era of change was ushered in. Indeed, the Obamas’ race was, and still is, a popular and widely discussed aspect of the 2008 presidential election. Having never seen a black Democratic nominee or a black woman come so close to gaining the title of First Lady, America closely watched and scrutinized the Obamas’ every move. On June 3, 2008 at a rally in St. Paul Minnesota, Barack and Michelle Obama “fist-pounded” one another, causing a media storm. Called a “fist bump of hope” (McShane), the “fist bump heard ‘round the world” (qtd. in Sklar), and even “a terrorist fist jab” (“ACTION: The Obamas’ affectionate “fist bump” is no “terrorist fist jab”) a country accustomed to kisses and hugs on the political stage became obsessed with trying to interpret this gesture. What is interesting about the fist bump is its origins in African-American street culture among men. In this way, it symbolizes a moment where race, class, and gender intersect. This intersection was a point of serious debate and careful strategizing for the Obamas while on the campaign 10

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By Ruani Ribe, ‘12 trail. In order to appeal to an entire nation of voters, Barack and Michelle Obama had to carefully construct their public personas as they involve race, gender, and their respective political offices. The need to understand and interpret what the “fistbump” signifies and to move past society’s ills as they relate to race through a “post-racial” moment only highlights how deeply embedded our stereotypes and expectations concerning race, class, gender, and the offices of President and First Lady are. Here lies the inherent risk in hinging the alleviation of these ills on the election of a black President. Much of the emphasis on race during the days leading up to the election dealt with the prospect of electing America’s first black president, but also discussed the extent to which Barack Obama could be considered black, especially in relation to his wife, Michelle Obama. Her visible African-American ancestry makes her the symbol of a “perceived ‘racial’ challenge, [which] only heightens, multiplies, and magnifies the antagonism toward her” (Horne and Horne-Wells 126). In other words, some say her dark skin tone, in comparison to the lighter skin

color of her husband, has caused her to become the site of many of America’s displaced racial anxieties. Here implicitly lies the issue of “colorism”, or colorbased discrimination that suggests lighter skin is preferable to darker skin (Hunter 2), which in no way pits the Obamas as equals. Historically, “whiteness is believed to represent civility, intelligence, and beauty, and in contrast blackness and brownness are seen as representing primitiveness, ignorance, and ugliness” (Hunter 49). In today’s society, one may no longer be as close-minded as to ascribe primitiveness or ignorance to skin color, but today’s colorism does conflate blackness with ugliness, and dark skin still carries connotations of a sense of fear and danger that stem from these earlier ascriptions. This fear might be magnified by anxieties over the Obamas’ ability to represent America as a whole over the black community which their race ties them to. While it is clear that Barack Obama is not white, his lighter skin places him on the whiter end of this color spectrum, thus one, especially one eager to see the onset of a “post-racial” society, might readily attribute civility, intelligence, and beauty, if we are to think of beauty as possessing some level of social capital and increased likelihood of access to resources and upward mobility (Hunter 71), to Obama rather than the full weight of the connotations of the dark skin on the other end of the spectrum. To add to this, it is widely known that Obama is the son of a white woman and a Kenyan black man. In this way, Obama can be seen as occupying a middle ground between dominant whites and oppressed racial minorities (Hunter 116) choosing to distance himself from race by downplaying his own race and avoiding racial issues whenever possible (Cooper 651-652). However, this middle-ground is further complicated considering he is descended from an immigrant father, which places him outside the “legacy of slavery and Jim Crow” and outside the history of racial oppression as it is related to constructions of blackness in America (Hollinger 1035). For those who see him as representative of black progress in America, this could be problematic and may contribute to views of Obama as “less black”. In this sense, the white majority can rest assured that Barack Obama does not fully identify with the black

community of America, as a part of the anxiety over the Obamas’ race concerned their ability to represent America as a country over a biased focus which would champion the specific issues of blacks. The construction of Obama’s race avoids outright appeals to both whites and blacks and in this way, he gives off a sense of racelessness and quells fears of appearing “race-loyal” (Copper 653) or “too black”. Michelle Obama’s darker skin tone, on the other hand, may have made her a more likely candidate for this sort of bias in the eyes of the public. Margaret Hunter notes that “many AfricanAmericans consider light-skinned members of the community to be less identified with other blacks, and less interested and knowledgeable about black culture” (Hunter 104). This idea then suggests that darker-skinned members of the community are more likely to identify with blacks and more likely to be concerned with the black community. Taken together, one might conclude that Michelle Obama’s dark skin caused people to view her less favorably, on the parts of both the general historical perceptions of darker skin in America, and also the perception that as a “more black,” or darker-skinned, person she is more likely to place loyalty to her own race over her loyalty to American citizens as a whole. Standing before an enormous crowd of her husband’s supporters years later on June 3, 2008, there is no question that her current class status somewhat distances Michelle Obama from her working-class childhood. But it is also this new class status that has made her the prime target of attacks labeling her “as an unpatriotic angry black woman nursing racial grievances despite her successful life story” (McGinley 722). This comment points to one area where calling our society “post-racial” becomes problematic: in that these critics inextricably tie race to class and social status. Citing Michelle Obama’s “successful life story” as a reason to refrain from continuing to find fault with the treatment of race in America suggests that her own life is proof that anyone from any racial or socio-economic background can rise to her level, and that race did not, and does not continue to act as an obstacle in the pursuit of this level of success. Interestingly then, she gets “labeled uppity” The Little Black Book | Fall 2011

(Williams 834) by critics, as if she should remain forever humbled for having been allowed to achieve the American Dream. Barack Obama faces similar criticism, despite his own middle-class upbringing. Though his “Meet the President” biography seems to do a little more than necessary to emphasize his modest roots, it does make clear that he does not come from the same privileged background as many of his predecessors. It points out that he was raised by a single mother and his grandparents who didn’t have much money but brought him up with “values from the Kansas heartland” where they grew up (“Meet the President”). Still, he has been called an elitist and his aides have worried that “his intellect can be mistaken for condescension and that his composure can seem like detachment” (Saslow). After all, his upbringing, at least the way it is described in this biography, is in stark contrast to the Columbia, Princeton, and Harvard educations he received later in life. Both Obama’s education and humble background were critical to presenting himself as what Frank Rudy Cooper calls the “Good Black Man”. His intellect makes a certain degree of fairness and level-headedness attributable to him, and his composure lends itself to combatting the temperamental nature that is easily attributable to Cooper’s “Bad Black Man.” In essence, Barack and Michelle Obama’s education levels, lifestyles, and comportment are assessed with relation to their race or are used strategically to avoid fulfilling stereotypes or fears of what could potentially come from a black President and First Lady. The focus of these sorts of discussions may be on class, but race is present, even if it is implicitly, exposing the contradiction of our want to see our President and First Lady representative of a particular black narrative and struggle, yet with the education and experience to be fit for these roles, which have been traditionally defined by the white, upper-class. For President Barack Obama, this means finding middle ground between appearing fit for the strong, powerful, and masculine role of President of the United States while avoiding stereotypes of hyper-masculine, angry, aggressive black man and also that of the “Black Buddy”, a “safe, but nonthreatening black identity”, that is “physically black 12

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yet lacking a racial identity” (Collins 168). In other words, masculinity is interpreted in very different ways where race is concerned, both in presentation of one’s self and in the reception of that self. The American presidency is usually framed through “experience, toughness, feistiness, stubbornness, [and] grit” (Cooper 650) in the vein of traditional masculinity, however, while these characteristics are admired in the American [white] presidency, they evoke a certain level of fear when attached to black men. Cooper argues that Obama’s race in conjunction with fulfilling the typical masculine characteristics of the American presidency would cast him as the angry, “Bad Black Man. In order to avoid this stereotype, and in turn, avoid losing voters, Barack Obama had to feminize many aspects of his public persona. In this sense, his “restraint, calm demeanor, collaborative style, willingness to speak with enemies, and finely honed language” (Cooper 650) helped to distance him from the “Bad Black Man” images associated with people such as Black Nationalists or Al Sharpton in that all of these people’s politics are exclusive, race-affirming and condemning towards whites. In feminizing himself in order to construct a black masculinity that was palatable to the American masses, he risked appearing not manly enough for the Presidency, yet Cooper notes that as a black man, “Obama had more room to negotiate a partly feminized masculinity.” Further, lest critics cast his feminine characteristics as evidence of homosexuality1, he had his marriage and picturesque family to thwart those claims. Still, as his feminization tactics are largely attempts to distance himself from race, he risks fulfilling other stereotypes, specifically of what Patricia Hill Collins calls the “Black Buddy,” one who’s blackness is only present externally, but not on a behavioral or cultural level (Collins 168) and therefore, appearing as an insufficient representative of blacks. In deemphasizing his masculinity, Obama is “stripped of the seemingly dangerous parts of Blackness, 1. I do not mean to suggest that homosexuality is a negative attribute, but that as a presidential candidate, this accusation could have alienated potential voters who find fault with this lifestyle.

leaving the useful parts of difference to satisfy the tastes of a multicultural America” (Collins 168). If this is what people view as post-racial about Obama, one should question whether it is race we are trying to move beyond or if it is the differences caused by separate racial identities and cultures. The black vote was heavily skewed in Obama’s favor, but appearing “in conformity with dominant, White sensibilities” and too detached from black culture could have cast him as an insufficient representative of blacks and as using race to his advantage. To digress slightly, it is interesting to consider Barack Obama’s campaign involvement with popular culture in trying to understand why blacks did not perceive him as a “Black Buddy” of sorts. As both blacks and whites may attribute “authentic” representations of black culture to the over representation of images of blackness in popular culture that stem from stereotypical images of working-class blacks. Maybe then, Barack Obama’s level or engagement with popular culture during his campaign placed him, to some extent, on the level of these perceivably “authentic” blacks. Additionally, it may have been doubly advantageous in that it made him more prominent in the minds of Americans while acting to place some distance between himself and the elitism and stuffiness of dominant [white] political culture. We might also understand the “fist-pound” gesture as being representative of black culture and popular culture simultaneously, much like his gesture during a speech in Raleigh, North Carolina, which alluded to Jay-Z’s “brushing dirt off your shoulder” 2. Michelle Obama is not exempt from appearing unfit for the role of First Lady as a black woman. The stereotype of the angry black woman, or what Patricia Hill Collins calls the “‘bitch’”, pits black women as “aggressive, loud, rude, and pushy” (Collins 123) and “is designed to defeminize and demonize them”(Collins 123), both of which would be quite tactful for critics who wish to show Michelle Obama as incompatible with the First Lady role. 2. Made popular in 2003 by Jay-Z’s song “Dirt Off Your Shoulders” from The Black Album.

Even the more positively connoted “Bitch with a capital ‘B’”, “super-tough, super-strong women who are often celebrated” (Collins 124) that has been associated with Michelle Obama is problematic. That “she was considered too outspoken and too critical of her husband, and perhaps not as domesticated as many of the public would like” (McGinley 722) serves to contribute to fears that she is capable of her own, independent agenda and further, to emasculate an already feminized President. In the face of criticism, fears mounted that she could ruin “her husband’s chances for presidency, tainting him as ‘too black’” (McGinley 723). In conformance with the traditional role of First Lady, which “personifies domesticity and traditional womanhood”, who is “regarded as a good wife and mother” and in more recent history, is credited with pursuing some sort of social cause, as long as it is compatible with the President’s policies (Watson and Eksterowicz 366), Michelle Obama adopted a more “feminine” image as the election drew nearer and began to place emphasis on her own struggle to balance work and family and her goal to help American women do the same (De Nies). Now, Michelle Obama is probably most well-known for her fashion sense, which is uniquely affordable and accessible, perhaps to combat the attribution of materialism associated with black women (Collins 126), and has received considerable press on how she structures family time, chose a school for her children, and created a home in the White house (McGinley 723).While this might be seen by some as retrogressive (Williams 842) especially succeeding such active First Ladies as Hilary Clinton, Michelle Obama’s race affords her less freedom to portray herself as active and independent minded, since most stereotypes masculinize black women as the anti-thesis of the feminine “lady”, a status that then becomes attainable only by white women (Williams 841-842). While Michelle Obama began to fit the fashionable First Lady mold that we have come to expect because of past First Ladies like Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis, her controversial image faded into the background. The iconic “fist-bump”, on the other hand, sparked conversation because it was The Little Black Book | Fall 2011

different—even as America stands for inclusivity and embracing difference, the media coverage alone is evidence that no one knew what to do with this seemingly out of place gesture. It was analyzed and dissected in exactly the same way that the Obamas’ camp knew they would be picked apart on the basis of their race. None of this is to say that the Obamas meant to downplay or exploit any aspect of their identities, but in their careful projections of their identities as they relate to race, they also had to figure in class and gender. If the image of post-racial is constructed by altering perceptions of various other things, all that this is evidence of is a certain amount of fluidity in each of these constructs, but certainly not a society that is beyond race, or any other markers of difference. Not even Obama himself is post-racial. His attempts at remaining in-between black and white are only effective because of the stereotypes and rigid notions we have of gender and race. When gender, race and class are no longer the basis for determining who is fit and not fit for roles like the President and First Lady, then we might be on our way to being post-racial. We may be past de facto racism in the US, but the days leading up to the election show evidence that colorism still exists. Furthermore, the attention to both Barack and Michelle Obama’s backgrounds demonstrate that class is tied to certain levels of authenticity concerning race, and finally, the negotiation of their images between various gendered black stereotypes to ensure public approval reveals that gender biases are deeply entrenched in perceptions of race, as well. For right now, calling this point in American history post-racial completely ignores the large role that both class and gender played in this election and downplays the many inequalities and disadvantages that still exist there, especially when they are combined with race. “ACTION: The Obamas’ Affectionate “fist Bump” Is No “terrorist Fist Jab”” Media Matters. Media Matters for American, 9 June 2008. Web. 13 Dec. 2010. <http://mediamatters.org/researc h/200806090006>. Argetsinger, Amy, and Roxanne Roberts. “The Fist Couple: Giving a Big Bump to Authenticity.” The Washington Post. The Washington Post Company, 5 June 2008. Web. 13 Dec. 2010. <http://www. washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2008/06/04/AR2 008060404521.html>.

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Armstrong, Nancy, and Melissa Wagner. Field Guide to Gestures: How to Identify and Interpret Virtually Every Gesture Known to Man. Philadelphia: Quirk, 2003. Print. Collins, Patricia Hill. “Booty Call: Sex, Violence, and Images of Black Masculinity.” Black Sexual Politics. Routledge. 149-180. Print Collins, Patricia Hill. “Get Your Freak On: Sex, Babies, And Images of Black Femininity.” Black Sexual Politics. Routledge. 119-47. Print. Cooper, Frank R. “Our First Unisex President?: Black Masculinity and Obama’s Feminine Side.” Suffolk University Law School Faculty Publications (2009): 633-61. NELLCO Legal Scholarship Repository. Web. 10 Nov. 2010. De Nies, Yunji. “Michelle Obama Talks About Balancing Work and Family.” ABC News. ABC News, 11 Feb. 2009. Web. 13 Dec. 2010. <http://blogs.abcnews.com/politicalpunch/2009/02/mic helleobam-2.html>. Hollinger, David A. “Obama, The Instability of Color Lines, Adn the Promise of a Postethnic Future.” Callaloo 31.4: 1033-037. JSTOR. Web. 10 Nov. 2010. Horne, Gerald, and Malaika Horne-Wells. “First Lady in Black: Michelle Obama and the Crisis of Race and Gender.” Barack Obama and African American Empowerment: the Rise of Black America’s New Leadership. New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2009. 123-32. Print. Hunter, Margaret L. Race, Gender, and the Politics of Skin Tone. New York: Routledge, 2005.Print. McGinley, Ann C. “Hillary Clinton, Sarah Palin, and Michelle Obama: Performing Gender, Race, and Class on the Campaign Trail.” Denver University Law Review (2009): 709-25. 11 June. 2009. Web. 9 Dec. 2010. McShane, Larry. “Barack and Michelle Obama’s ‘fist Bump of Hope’ Shows Them Silly in Love.” Daily News. NY Daily News, 6 June 2008. Web. 13 Dec. 2010. < http://www.nydailynews.com/news/ politics/2008/06/05/2008-06-05_barack_and_michelle_obamas_fist_ bump_of_.html#ixzz182RhBhnX>. “Meet the President” Organizing for America. Democratic National Campaign. Web. 13 Dec.2010. <http://www.barackobama.com/learn/ meet_barack.php>. Saslow, Eli. “Despite His Roots, Obama Struggles to Show He’s Connected to Middle Class.” The Washington Post. The Washington Post Company, 3 Feb. 2010. Web. 13 Dec. 2010. <http://www.washingtonpost. com/wp-dyn/content/article/2010/02/02/ AR2010020202644 .html>. Sklar, Rachel. “Obama Fist-Bump Rocks The Nation!” The Huffington Post. The Huffington Post, 6 June 2008. Web. 13 Dec. 2010. <http:// www.huffingtonpost.com/2008/06/06/obama-fist-bumprocks-the_n_105490.html>. Trebay, Guy. “She Dresses to Win.” The New York Times. The New York Times Company, 8 June 2008. Web. 13 Dec. 2010. <http://www. nytimes.com/2008/06/08/fashion/08michelle.html?_r=2>. Watson, Robert P., and Anthony J. Eksterowicz, eds. The Presidential Companion. Second ed. Columbia: University of South Carolina, 2006. Print. White, John Kenneth. Barack Obama’s America: How New Conceptions of Race, Family, and Religion Ended the Reagan Era. Ann Arbor: University of Michigan, 2009. Print. Williams, Verna L. “The First (Black) Lady.” Denver University Law Review (2009): 833-50. 18 Mar. 2009. Web. 9 Dec. 2010.

The Obstacles they have to

Overcome

By Clarissa Palmer,‘14

In history, both Black men and women have been oppressed. Black people were kept as property; they were not allowed to own anything. Black people were seen as objects and not people. As time went on, slavery became nonexistent and Black people gained civil rights, gradually. White women were always seen as people but they were still considered to be subordinate to White men. However, White women had the right to own things and gained autonomy before Black people, yet their right to vote came after that of a Black man’s. You can say that all of these things are of the past, but racism and sexism still exists today and Black women have to overcome both of these obstacles. It has been proven that male workers tend to be paid more than female workers even if they are performing the same job and that a White person will get a job over a Black person. So a Black woman has to endure lower pay to a male counterpart if she has a job and if she doesn’t, hope that a White person doesn’t go for the same job that she is going for. You may disagree, but society portrays the illusion that everything is equal and success is determined by how hard a person has worked for it, but the reality of life is that there is cultural and sexual hegemony. There are many Black female stereotypes. I believe that they are best portrayed in three categories: Mammy, Jezebel, and Sapphire. Mammy is the Aunt Jemima Black woman. She is large, has a mother earth figure, and has no sex appeal. She is happy with her life of faithful service to White people. She smiles and laughs, maybe too much. She has a good heart but she is not particularly bright or even all that trustworthy. In the 1960s, the matriarch stereotype took her place, which in turn gave rise to the welfare queen in the 1970s. Jezebel, named after an evil queen in the

Bible, is a loose woman who wants sex all the time. Yet at the same time she uses sex to draw men in to get what she wants. Sometimes it is money and sometimes it is to destroy them. Hip-hop videos and Halle Berry in “Monster’s Ball” push this image of Black women. Sapphire, named after a character in “Amos ‘n’ Andy,” always seems to have her hands on her hips while she is running her mouth – putting down her man, making everything into a fight, never taking anything lying down. She is an overbearing, hard and undesirable woman who drives men away and winds up alone. Think of Tichina Arnold’s character Pam in “Martin.” Michelle Obama comes dangerously close to being read this way. Black females are looked down upon as poor, dumb, overbearing, undesirable women whom no one wants to deal with. People even try to make the First Lady into a ‘stereotypical’ Black woman. I believe that after reading the descriptions above, you probably have categorized a Black woman you know into at least one of these categories. So the question at hand seems to be: how can Black women break free of stereotypes, history, and their continued oppression to become successful, validated, and recognized members in society? The ones that emerge will definitely be called different and/or weird because they don’t act like a ‘typical’ Black woman, but really there is no ‘typical’ feature of any race. Everyone is different with their own gifts/talents. Celebrate yourself and what you have to offer without trying to conform to what society wants you to be.

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Poetry Holding Hands Beneath The Stars By Taylor McLendon, â&#x20AC;&#x2DC;15

I have never held hands beneath the stars. I have never felt fingers caress my knuckles While stars winked at me. The pressure of palms in prayers of longing, The pain of the release, praise of security, These feelings are foreign. I have never seen moonlight grace brown skin, Neither his nor mine, neither in this life nor the last, But I imagine it is to live for. I am more or less in the daylight, Sun beating on shoulder blades like Congos, Under which I am absorbing letters. Or in the midst of those who are. The turn of the page like a waltz. Or an embrace, or these things of which Iâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;ve no knowledge. The closest Iâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;ll come as of now is between those covers. The bindings and ink enclose my mind with possibility. Till experience meets awareness

The Little Black Book | Fall 2011

What Shall I Do? By Nanette NuNu, ‘14

What obstacles am I facing? Am I doubly damned because I am a Black woman? Should I wait till I get pregnant and drop out of school like some of my counterparts have done? Should I wait till I'm in a relationship with a no-good thug from the wrong side of the tracks? Should I be permanently damaged because there was no daddy around when I was growing up? Be angry at every man that enters and exits my life? Quit while I'm ahead, live the life that history has prescribed for me? What open doors lie before me? Should I go to college and make a future for myself? Should I appreciate the hard work of my single mother? Holding down three jobs at every moment of my life that I can remember? Should I embrace my American culture but even more so embrace and relish in my African culture? Realizing that everything that makes me different, makes me beautiful? Should I understand that I need to put myself first, protect myself from all the wrong decisions that could ruin my life? Is it good to realize everything that I can be? Should I revel in the fact that any obstacle that stands before me can be broken down?

Square Thoughts By Briana Henry, ‘13

It always happens in the shower, If the lights are off, the water’s hot And everything around me is calm, Like mist clings to the early morning, I will condense onto the blue-green tiles And expose myself as something soft. My very own confession booth, This place is thick with mental space, These shrouded walls, forever silent, Keep the balance between now and then, But the door hinges are always loose, And I am never fully present.

The Little Black Book | Fall 2011

You Call It Tradition (Umkhuba)

By Aderinola Adejare, â&#x20AC;&#x2DC;13 I sit between the crossroads, The whispers of my ancestors, Amatongo, blowing in the wind, The cries of modernity getting louder. Engulfing the air I breathe. Umjaho! Umjaho! Umjaho! I run to the mountains seeking the familiarity of my grandmother's touch. The beauty in her eyes, the colors of the beads that decorate her arms and head, The patterns of her hair, I yearn for the melody in her voice. I run for I am Zulu. My heart, my soul, rooted in the soil of KwaZulu-Natal. I run for my heart beats to the rhythm of a Xhosa drum. Seeking a vaccine for modernity, I find my sanctuary in the Eastern Cape. I am twelve, though age matters not. Infused with the song of womanhood, ngicula Born a woman, for girls exist not but for a minute; A minute to laugh and play, A minute long enough to be missed, as the inevitable approaches. I am twelve, though age matters not. I clean each day, waking up at the crack of dawn to wash, To cook, and take care of my siblings, ngenza. My back made of steel as I carry my brother on my back, A bucket of water on my head, As I walk through the market, Armed with the speech of a forty year old woman; I bargain for my meal for the day. I am twelve, though age matters not. I dance with the spirits of my ancestors, Arms flapping in the winds, My claps like a thousand thunders, My feet causing the earth to shake. I move like a tsunami, Swaying my hips left to right, My talent I was born with, infused with from birth By my ancestors who look and smile as I Move as they moved, and sing as they sung, My squeals pleasing to their ears, My voice reaching the ends of the earth, I remain cemented to the ground my ancestors toiled, Singing the songs my grandmother sung. I walk as they walked, eat what they ate. I am Zulu, I am Xhosa. Umbingelelo, welcome to my homeland. 18

The Little Black Book | Fall 2011

To the Boy with the Infinite Playlist By Christina Hardison, ‘15 Stop

You come and go like the tides Be still... For a moment Turn down your iPod and listen to our laughter Isn't it like music? The way our voices tick like a metronome. In sync until we Rewind We must have struck the wrong chord The way the notes fall flat and The quiet creeps over Silence Never sounds as discordant as the Pause Between lovers Maybe we're just on different scales Just two confused masses of brass and wood Searching for harmony amidst the clamor If so then Fast Forward Let’s pretend like we never exchanged notes In the first place How foolish Was I to think this would be more than cacophony You’re too full of air, You’d get lost in my strings So please, Return to your music player! Place your headphones back in their proper positions Forget me Press Play

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Featured

Artwork

Giraffes at Sunset

By Gabrielle Patterson, â&#x20AC;&#x2DC;15

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Flight

By Gabrielle Patterson, â&#x20AC;&#x2DC;15

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Kai

By Samira Alston, â&#x20AC;&#x2DC;13

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We Carry The Same Burden By Gregory Almonord, â&#x20AC;&#x2DC;14

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Faculty Spotlight:

Dr. Lyndon K. Gill

Dr. Lyndon K. Gill taught Black Queer Studies (ANTH 150) this fall at Penn. Dr. Gill grew up in both the Caribbean and the United States, and much of his work has been shaped by his cross-cultural experiences. He graduated from Stanford with a B.A. in African and AfricanAmerican Studies. In 2007, he received a Fulbright Fellowship to investigate queer cultural production in Trinidad and Tobago. He received his Ph.D. in African-American Studies and Anthropology from Harvard University. I had the pleasure of sitting down with him and discussing his course, his background, and his thoughts on the Black diaspora.

By Antuan Johnson, â&#x20AC;&#x2DC;13

LBB: What brought you to Penn and what made you decide to teach Black Queer Studies? LG: Debra Thomas and John Jackson, two amazing scholars in anthropology among other disciplines, have created [opportunities] for post-doctorates and visiting professorships. Itâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s an amazing opportunity to work with folks who are really at the forefront of doing work in all the disciplines they touch. I had the opportunity to meet with Debra and some other folks and through communication with her and explaining my work, I was awarded this two year post-doc. This Black Queer Studies course is a course that I always wanted to take. It is a culmination of, without me even knowing, all the work I was doing for my own intellectual edification when thinking about queer blackness in a variety of places and locations. Both within the U.S. and outside of the U.S., these were issues that I had to work through to write my dissertation, but also things that I had to work through in order to exist, in order to be my Black, Queer, Caribbean self. LBB: In the course there is an emphasis on the interdisciplinary nature of a project like Black Queer Studies; what is your perspective on Queer Studies and Africana Studies in the U.S., what sort of divides exist between them and what do you think can bring them together? 24

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LG: While I think it’s important not to overlook conflict and division that may seem to keep Queer studies and African-American studies a part, it’s important to emphasize how they’ve always been connected. For example, the relevance of race to the early development of queer theory and LGBT studies. For LGBT Studies, Black, Latino, Asian, and Native-American folks, were all a part of creating the movement out of which LGBT studies comes, and so they are foundational to LGBT Studies. Now whether or not LGBT studies, as taught, recognizes this as always the academy is behind on what people are doing in the world. People in the world realize that there were Black folks a part of ACT UP, queer folks of color helped organize Stonewall. Queers of color can be written out and they can be left out, but that doesn’t mean they haven’t been a part of the discourse. I think it’s important to emphasize how integral and integrated those things are. A similar thing happened to African-American studies in the United States. African-American studies can sometimes, depending on the way it’s told, feel confined to the United States, but you can’t deny the fact that these folks who were involved in the sit-ins in the 1960s, who made it possible for the discipline to exist included folks and students from all over. Therefore, the Black diaspora, has been a part the activist movements that opened the space for African-American studies from the very beginning. I feel like it sets up a false dichotomy to say Queer studies and Africana studies are separate entities that need to find a middle ground. The middle ground, the bridge, is people; the people have been a part of both movements. LBB: You have done a lot of research on the African Queer Caribbean diaspora; what is the importance of the connection between the United States and Caribbean? LG: The emergence of the modern western world, as it exists, happened on large part through enslavement and exploitation in the U.S. but also in the Caribbean. The relationship between the US, Europe, Africa, and the Caribbean is one that is literally tied together in history. The Caribbean looks the way it does because of the slave trade and also because of indentureship. There is this close relationship between U.S. culture and Caribbean culture and that influence goes both ways. LBB: The course also focuses on Black Queer Art as a potential means for Liberation; some of the artists read include Audre Lorde, Marlon Riggs, and Essex Hemphill, how have these artists shaped the course, and what do you hope students take away from it? LG: Artistry is fundamental to Black Queer Studies; the study has evolved because we have these artists who think about ways in which to transform the world we live in. This course pushes students to look at art and think about the possibility for a painting to do the kind of philosophical work that Kant can do, or the possibility for a film to do the kind of theoretical work that Foucault can do and recognize that there are Black queer theorists who may not always be recognized as theorists because the way they go about theorizing. So, for example, Marlon Riggs is kind of theorist, Audre Lorde is a kind of theorist and a poet, Dionne Brand is a kind of theorist and a novelist. These kinds of theorists have been key to thinking through the relationship between art and the academy. I wanted students to understand that artistry was fundamental to the organization to this thing called “Black Queer Studies”, and even outside of what Black Queer Folks make, for them to consider other artistry that might help them think differently about themselves and the world, and how they operate in the world.

The Little Black Book | Fall 2011

Mr. Quaker:

Mulu Habtemariam By Antuan Johnson, ‘13

The Little Black Book selected College senior, Mulu Habtemariam, as Mr. Quaker for fall ‘11. As one of the Co-Directors of SPEC-TRUM, Habtemariam helps organize and plan extraordinary events for the student body at Penn. This past fall, SPEC-TRUM helped bring Theophilus London, Meek Mill, and Kendrick Lamar to campus. We sat down with him and discussed his experiences at Penn and his role in planning some of the largest events on campus. LBB: In retrospect, what made you decide on Penn? MH: My mentor in high school recommended that I apply to Penn my senior year. He told me that the school was politically active and in an urban community, which was something that I wanted. I came to visit during Multicultural Scholars Weekend, and after meeting potential incoming freshmen and some upperclassmen, I felt like Penn was a place for me and that I would fit in. I felt like it was an opportunity for me to explore and meet people who otherwise, I would never cross paths with. I’m happy with the decision and I feel blessed to be here; I’ve had a great time at Penn. 26

The Little Black Book | Fall 2011

LBB: Why did you decide to major in Communications? MH: I came to Penn and I didn’t know what I wanted to do, I explored a lot my freshman and sophomore years. In the spring semester of my sophomore year, I took an intro to communications course that I really liked. I was genuinely interested in what I was learning, and I ended up realizing over time that communications related to a lot of my interests and skills in film and music. LBB: How did you become involved with SPEC-TRUM and what has your experience been like as co-director of the organization? MH: I joined SPEC-TRUM the fall of my freshman year. I thought event planning sounded like a good opportunity to collaborate with others and enjoy doing it. I co-chaired for the marketing committee. We trekked all along campus advertising for events, and went to other universities like Temple and Drexel, which was cool because I got a chance to get out of the Penn bubble while marketing for the shows. In the spring of my sophomore year, opportunities came up for leadership roles as seniors graduated. I applied and luckily I was selected to be one of three co-directors. “-TRUM” stands for To Represent Undergraduate Minorities, thus it’s our responsibility to meet the interests and needs of undergraduate minorities on campus through the events that we plan which can vary from concerts and comedy shows, to even parties. But in addition to that, we also provide financial support and planning assistance to minority groups who seek co-sponsorship for their own events. This is great because as a director you have groups coming to seek funding for their events, and you get to support their development. LBB: Who are some of your favorite artists that you’ve helped bring to Penn? MH: I’m honestly a fan of everyone that we’ve brought to Penn. I’m a big fan of Whiz Khalif, we brought him last fall, and the year before that we brought Mike Posner and Big Sean. This past spring we brought J. Cole and Diplo. LBB: How do you feel your race has impacted your college experience? MH: There’s a pressure to work so much harder than others. But I’ve welcomed it and I’m comfortable with who I am as a person. My race has influenced my entire existence at Penn in regards to the groups that I’m involved in. I’m a drummer and vocalist in African Rhythms; I’m involved with the theatre group AfricanAmerican Arts Alliance, I‘m an Ase academy mentor. When I came to college I wanted to find these spaces where not only I could give back to people who were like me but also learn from people who were like me, and I couldn’t really get that in my classes sometimes, so I depended on students groups and extracurriculars to seek that experience. LBB: What are your plans for after you graduate? MH: In the long run, I want to return to school but after I graduate, getting a media related job would be ideal. Specifically advertising or something that involves creativity, images of people of color in that field are sometimes misguided. I feel like having people of color in those images can help a lot. The Little Black Book | Fall 2011

Miss Independent:

Nana-Yaa Misa By Amaka Okunji,‘13

The Little Black Book selected NanaYaa Misa, president of African Rhythms and co-founder of M.A.P.S. as Miss Independent for fall ‘ll. We had the opportunity to ask her about her family’s cultural contributions to her college experience, future goals, and advice to future students at Penn.

LBB: What would you say would be your biggest contribution to campus life? NM: I do have to admit that African Rhythms is my biggest contribution to Penn and at the same time, I feel like African Rhythms has been the biggest contribution to me. It has provided so many amazing opportunities. Though it is a huge time commitment and I’ve been in it for about four years, it’s amazing and the people are amazing and they are like my family. There is so much rhythm, so much energy and so much spirit. It’s a lot more than a stress reliever; it adds some “umph” to my life. LBB: I know that you are of African descent and that you are pre-med and there are a lot of stereotypes about that association, and I wanted to know if that has had any effect on you. NM: I actually grew up in a very different background and my parents have never been that way; so much so that I was even complaining to my mom and saying, “Why can’t you be like other African parents and push me to do something!” during my freshmen year. I am grateful that they have raised me, but my parents have been very laid back in terms of what I want to do, what will make me happy, and what’s feasible. I was pre-med when I got to Penn and I wasn’t sure why, but when I went on, my love for it grew as I grew as a student. From there, I discovered that I was interested in health, especially because of my experience in Ghana; I decided on 28

The Little Black Book | Fall 2011

a Health and Societies major. LBB: I was also wondering what your goals were, did you want to go straight to med school or take a year off, or something else? NM: I’ve always wanted to take a year off to relax and live, but I realized that as you get closer to that point, you have to find a job and I have to say that it is intimidating and overwhelming and though I still don’t know what I want to do, I really want to travel. Though I’m scared to travel and to step out of my box, I really want to. I’m thinking about Botswana or Senegal, especially because I have found a love of Senegal because some of the dances that we do in African Rhythms are from there. At the same time, I want to branch out of Africa and I am thinking about places in South America and Europe. LBB: So you mentioned that you grew up in Ghana, tell me about that and the experience of coming to the United States? NM: I lived there for twelve years and came to the United States in eighth grade. I went to school in Bethesda and I lived in Silver Spring. However, I finished 6th grade in South Africa. I feel like the biggest cultural shock was communicating with adults. I was raised to give extreme respect to adults so much so that I had a fear of communicating with people that I classified as ‘adults’. So it was really surprising because in 8th grade, not only were people communicating with the teachers, some were rude and talked back. It was good and bad because it allows students to talk to the teachers about ideas and points but also allows them to be disrespectful. Even to this day, I have a little trouble with it. Another culture shock was how ‘free’ everyone was and I remember that my mom would always find a reason for us not to go out or why something was dangerous. I even remember that she didn’t want us to learn how to drive! To this day, I don’t know how but I do want to learn eventually. LBB: What else do you do on campus? NM: My friends and I started M.A.P.S. (Minority Association Pre-Health Students) during my sophomore year of college. We wanted to start a group where minority students could come together collectively for resources and advice. It is a chapter of an already established national organization. I am also a part of Onyx Senior Honor Society. LBB: What advice would you give young black women, who aspire to enroll or are enrolled at Penn? NM: When I came to Penn, initially, I was intimidated at first because I was a minority who didn’t come in with the privileged background that many have here. It was a long time before I learned that I was here and that I deserved it. I learned that I am not only here as a Black woman, but also as a student, an individual and an intellectual. I advise other upper and underclassman to definitely own your experience, acknowledge and appreciate your background, yet remember that you are a part of a larger community.

The Little Black Book | Fall 2011

Artist Spotlight:

Cortney Charleston By Antuan Johnson, ‘13

College senior, Cortney Charleston, is well known as a member of The Excelano Project, the University of Pennsylvania’s “first, only, and flyest spoken word group.” Charleston’s poetry is personal, intelligent, and thought-provoking. He is also the new President of EP. The Little Black Book had the chance to interview Charleston about his experience at Penn, his creative process, his reasons for joining the Excelano Project, and his plans for writing in the future. LBB: When did your interest in poetry and writing begin?

CC: I always had a curious interest in writing. I don’t understand where it came from exactly, but there was something about the process that I just enjoyed. Beginning in middle school and throughout high school, I went through phases where I would try to write essays on social issues.

Photo taken by Ayasha Guerin

LBB: How did you get involved with the Excelano Project?

The Little Black Book | Fall 2011

CC: I was always into hip-hop, so once I encountered spoken word here at Penn, it opened me up to it and I really wanted to try it. Before I had this stereotypical impression of Spoken Word in my head because of the people who rhyme all the time, but are not really saying anything; some poets are performative for the sake of being extra. I used to question the artistic merit behind it. I saw EP’s ‘Dreams of a Ridiculous Man’ in the spring semester of my freshmen year and I was like “Yo, this is dope.” Not only what they were doing, how they were doing it, but what they were talking about. I had always been looking for a way to express my wider thoughts about society in a creative way; it led me to

believe that I could do that. LBB: Who are some of your favorite writers, poets, and artists? CC: In terms of becoming a better poet and finding my own voice I found a lot of inspiration from Tupac Shakur and Lupe Fiasco. It’s funny but I legitimately believe that being a Lupe Fiasco fan has made me a much better writer. I also love Gwendolyn Brooks, Charles Bukowski, Lorca, Neruda, Borges, Langston Hughes, Maya Angelou, and Nikki Giovanni. LBB: What is the best poem you have written? CC: I think the best poem I’ve written is “Dead Leaves,” which is about my brother and my relationship with him. I wrote it in response to his suicide attempt, which was one of the last big emotional issues that I had. I wrote that poem in response to it and I think because of it’s content that it’s my best poem. I’ve performed that poem in a couple of different venues now and people always like it and think it’s beautiful, and it’s great to hear that because for me that was kind of my way of dealing with it all. LBB: What do you find most inspires you to write? CC: What really inspires me is when I notice that differential between the ideal and the reality. I believe that space is what inspires me to write because I feel like when I write I can get closer to that ideal and it’s something that can outlast myself. I write, but I never know where these poems will end up. Maybe when I’m gone nobody will see them but maybe after I’m gone somebody will. I feel like it’s that one way for me to kind of outlast my physical life and encourage people to keep pushing for that ideal and those core values that I think regardless of your faith, race, gender, or sexual orientation that human beings naturally value and desire. I’m trying to get the best out of what it means to be human, and so that’s what inspires me the most. LBB: What is your creative process? CC: It depends on what I’m writing, I try to come up with a concept, once I have a concept that I like, I throw on my headphones and put on whatever I’m feeling at the moment. Lately it’s been J. Cole, but I went through long stretches where it was Lupe, Nas, or Tupac. I love writing to hip-hop specifically because when I’m listening to it, I’m bopping my head and this rhythm gets internalized, it brings out a good side of me, it lets me dig deeper into my word. If I get stuck I’ll stop writing and come back to it later, later might be a day away, a few days, or a week. If it feels like I’m forcing it then I stop because the language doesn’t seem as dynamic and I feel like I lose some of the emotion if I’m trying to force it. LBB: What are your plans for the future? Will you continue to write and in what capacity do you see yourself involved with spoken word? CC: I think long term, in terms of career; I would love to get into corporate philanthropy. I’m really interested in taking on roles where I can expand my social impact. In terms of writing, I hope writing is something that I take with me. Whether or not I’ll be a frequent performer is up in the air, I would love to one day take everything that I’ve written and publish it. I think I’ll still very much be a writer as long as I have things to write about, so I think it’s going to stick with me for life. The Little Black Book | Fall 2011