Vusumzi Nkomo
Frank Wilderson III, in an interview with Saidiya Hartman, speaks of the un-reliability of the white ‘ally’ positionality as an “[un]stable category”. Of course Frank gestures towards (dis)proving the (im)possibility of the ‘white-black alliance’ relation because, he argues, there exists no commonality, that is to say, no analogy, between the two structural positionalities. He adds, with finality, “ masters and slaves . . . are never allies.” What I’m more drawn towards is what he refers to as “ modalities of empathy”, which, I believe, is an enabling factor in how white liberal-leftist “allies” navigate an otherwise politically charged terrain, either as musicians, activists, cultural workers/educators, or even as Moonchild.
Put differently, one’s activism is activated by one’s ability to feel empathy and thus/consequently “Blackness inspires White emancipatory dreams” (Wilderson III, 2010). In James Baldwin’s 1961 essay titled “The Black Boy Looks at the White Boy”, the limitations of this white empathy hit us hard in the face. “[The white ally] will face in [a Black person’s] life”, writes Baldwin, “only what he is willing to face in his”, for as long as s/he is able to say “Me, too”. It seems like there’s no way out, good grief! Wilderson anticipates and augments this cul de sac: “How does one, knowing what one knows, sit through anything?”
On the 28th of March I found myself seated in a room filled to the brim with journalists//members of the media as we anxiously awaited U.S Jazz trio ‘Moonchild’. After a brief while, a petite white woman with long brunette hair, clad carelessly in a black hoodie and a black T, sandwiched between two white men, waltz in and are ushered by an irritatingly problematic white man (good grief!) who acted as the facilitator of the press conference. The trio sat in front of ‘us’, made themselves calmly comfortable, and the stage was set for us to harm them with questions as deep as the sea. I chose the easier and more obvious question, related to Amber’s T, brandished with a white sans serif white typeface: “Your T-shirt has ‘Black Lives Matter’ branded on it. Of course that carries profound political connotations.” (She kept on nodding profusely as I relayed my preamble- read thesis). I asked what were her thoughts on that and the apparent politics of the State-sanctioned brutalisation of Black/ened bodies, or something like that. Her response left me numb, numb, I tell you, to say the least.
Her response went something like this: her recognition of her/their white privilege allow(s/ed) her/them to use what she/they have and contribute towards positive change. (Liberals who suddenly want to play liberatory politics are tiring). Wilderson III elsewhere argues that whites “posit the presence of something they call "white skin privilege,” and the possibility of "giving that up," as their gesture of being in solidarity with blacks.” (Wilderson III, 2003). But how does this affect the art? What do we do when one’s assumed political identity is founded and stands on quite shaky ground? Amber: what sort of change? How? Where and for whom, and by who? What is to be done? Positive? How? A violent stream of questions came rushing through my head and I resolved that I’d rather watch the guitarist Reza Khota’s quartet, with drummer Jonno Sweetman, bassist Shane Cooper and reedman Buddy Wells.
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1. Frank Wilderson and Saidiya Hartman. 2003. Position of the unthought. Sourced here: https://sites.tufts.edu/english173/files/2017/01/Saidiya-Hartman-Interview-with-Frank-Wilderson-The-Position-of-the-Unthought.pdf
2. Wilderson, F. 2010. Red White and Black: Black Cinema and the Structure of U.S. Antagonisms. Duke University Press.
3. James Baldwin. 1961. The Black Boy Looks at the White Boy. Source: https://classic.esquire.com/article/1961/5/1/the-black-boy-looks-at-the-white-boy-norman-mailer
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