Twilight

I just wanted to start by saying the the actress was absolutely amazing. She was so believeable that there were moments that I forgot that it was her acting. I just remember the movie ending and suddenly remebering that it was one lady who acted out this entire hour and a half film. There were times when I believed her accent and her posture. It was like she was really Rodney King’s Aunt or the asian woman. It made me think about the following questions that we touched upon in class: To what extent does one have to perform the other in order to understand the other? Can one never fully perform the other because one can never be the other?

I just imagined her sitting there studyign the trancripts, watching the videos, and trying to pick up their mannerisms. Everytime she stutterred a word or got really excited about what she was saying I just pictured the person she was portraying as having those mannerisms as well. I believe the th eperformance helps one th understnd te other to a certain extent. I still feel like one can never fully understand the other because they will never actualy be that person. I do believe however that it is possible to get extremely close to understanding the other.

Sandy

In response to the discussion we had in class yesterday (Tue, 5/1/07), I’d like to suggest that it’s ambiguous to what extent Sandy’s flight from Boston was due to justified fear of capture and to what extent it was due to her own dissatisfaction. That is, is Sandy’s passing intended to act or to become? The topic is central to the novel—and to the question of what passing in general is—and I won’t be able to discuss it very satisfactorily or come to a conclusion either way, but I’ll try to start.

We have conflicting reports about whether Sandy was truly in danger. According to Dot, there was never any danger, and Sandy was imagining it all along. According to Deck, there was no danger but the danger has passed. According to Ronnie and Cole, there was and still is danger. However, it seems (to me) that the more credible ones state that there was and is a real danger. Birdie dismisses Dot as “more spiritual than political” (p. 353), which is probably justified given that she went to India because she believed “America was poisonous” and because she sought to go “deeper than skin color” (p. 313). They could, perhaps, be seen as political statements, but there is a sense that they should not be taken as such. And Deck was involved in the black power movement, but he was not nearly as involved in militancy as Sandy. Indeed, from the very start he attacked her involvement and called her crazy; and he was an intellectual throughout the novel, never really an activist. As Professor Parham said in class, the FBI targeted everyone involved in black militancy, not just those involved in large movements, and they would have known about Sandy’s involvement, if for no other reason than that they once arrested a militant from Sandy’s house. Thus, it would have been justified for Sandy to flee Boston out of fear of retribution.

Still, there is reason to believe that there were other motives involved in the flight. Sandy loses 70 pounds between the time that she leaves Boston and the time she arrives in New Hampshire; it is rather unlikely that one would do so simply to avoid capture. (Birdie says somewhere, though I can’t find the quote, that the weight loss might be due to grief at losing Cole. But regardless, it is not simply “passing.”) Birdie points out that Sandy flirts frequently, perhaps as an act, but, as Birdie suggests, perhaps “becoming the other woman” (p. 144). Also, Sandy, when younger, probably suffered from low self-esteem due to her weight and her unattractiveness in the eyes of men. Is it not at least possible that she might have tried lost weight to become more attractive? Finally, Sandy’s relationship with Jim is, by all accounts, purely a result of Sandy’s loneliness. Cole repeatedly criticizes her mother for her attraction to Jim, saying that it made them likely to be discovered, and surely Sandy, had she been solely or even primarily concerned with secrecy, would have known this. Yet she continues—for herself.

Victor Varnado

I am attaching a link to an article in the Village Voice this week entitled “White Like Me” that is a series of excerpts and interviews from the personal life of Victor Varnado, an albino-black comedian. It brings up many fascinating issues of race and hybridity, but also cultural constructions of the “freak” and “monstrosity” and really makes one think about how these discourses are in many ways similar. It’s also interesting because it brings the issue of representation and the role of media in shaping self-perception and understanding to the forefront. Tell me guys what you think of the article.

http://www.villagevoice.com/nyclife/0717,westhoff,76434,15.html

Russell Simmons comes out against using curse words in Hip-Hop

I am posting a link to an article that talks more about Russell Simmon’s and Benjamin Chavis’s statement that offensive words, especially “bitch”, “ho” and “nigger,” have no place in Hip-Hop and should be removed. The interesting part is not just that Russell Simmons is a highly influential executive of a Hip-Hop label, but that both came out before in defense of freedom of expression, but now two weeks later have changed their position in light of talks with Al Sharpton and Jesse Jackson about the issue. In their statement, they referred to as “corporate social responsibility of the industry to voluntarily show respect to African Americans and other people of color, African American women and to all women in lyrics and images.” It is a complex issue, but it is interesting to see that the fallout from the Don Imus remarks is becoming so far-reaching. I think this can be viewed as potentially a very positive development regarding the using of hurtful language and imagery in music, what do you guys think?

The URL of the link is posted below:

http://news.yahoo.com/s/nm/20070423/music_nm/usa_hiphop_dc

Thoughts on Watermelon Man

It occurred to me after a moment’s consideration that some of the same criticisms that we’ve made of Black Like Me can apply to Watermelon Man. The movie’s conclusion implies that Jeff Gerber, a man raised with white privilege and opportunities, has assimilated successfully within a black community. Now, admittedly, Gerber’s making no attempt here to enlighten white people with the black experience, but I still think the movie might be presumptuous to claim that Gerber would make the switch–that is to say, he would “pass”–so easily. The movie presents the greater difficulty in Gerber’s attempts to remain white. Perhaps Van Peebles, the director, is trying to illuminate the exclusivity of white boundaries in relation to the inclusive boundaries of “otherness.” Maybe. I’m struggling, though, with Jeff Gerber’s success… what does it signify, exactly? He’s financially rewarded–bribed–to relinquish his claim to whiteness and leave his white neighborhood, and with that seed money he creates a successful insurance company using the knowledge and skills to which he had access as a white man.
There are too many ways of looking at this situation. On one level, by giving up his house, he’s giving in to literal geographic borders that establish where whites can live versus where blacks can live, which preserves the status quo. On the other hand, he does so largely out of disillusionment with the white community to which he had once belonged. What frustrates me more than anything, though, is the movie’s treatment of the Gerbers’ dissipated marriage: why does Jeff agree to renounce his claim to SEE his children simply because he’s black? Obviously he still wants to support them as a father (sending money, etc.), but does he think it’s better for the children not to be exposed to a black father? (I don’t see Althea’s shuttling the children to a different city as a valid excuse.) I suppose there’s the element of protection–the children will face less adversity if they’re not associated with a black father–but doesn’t that message reinforce the segregation in place already? (A lot of Gerber’s decisions seem to uphold that segregation, so I imagine that’s partly the point.) I find that all a little inconclusive, even unfinished. Althea promises that the children will never forget their father, but that suggests that they’re meant simultaneously to abandon him.

…

Oh, and one other thing: When I Wikipedia-ed Watermelon Man (just because), a couple of disturbing production facts caught my interest. First, the studio intended for the part of Jeff Gerber to be played by a white actor (such as Alan Arkin, my God) in blackface, and Van Peebles refused; second, a rumor holds that an alternate ending was supposed to be filmed, in which Jeff Gerber wakes up as a white man, to discover that it was all a dream. Again, Van Peebles wouldn’t hear of it.
Now I know Wikipedia’s an unreliable source, but even if it’s not true, the “what if” question is valid. I don’t have a coherent thought to offer, though, other than the fact that Van Peebles averted tragedy (or travesty) twice over.

Gerber: black pride or self-indulgence?

I found Watermelon Man somewhat ambivalent on the question of Gerber’s attitude toward his own blackness. On the one hand, there’s reason to think that he genuinely comes to embrace his new race. The film ends with Gerber training in some form of martial arts with a bunch of other blacks (sorry, I don’t know 1970’s history well enough to understand the significance of that training). He also opens up his own insurance firm, leaving behind Townsend’s racist segregationist policies (i.e. sending him specifically to solicit the business of African-Americans). He walks away from Erica after she expresses her ridiculously stereotyped perception of black sexuality — and her willingness to fulfill her promise to constantly have sex with him (surely an enticement?) is made clear by the fact that her breasts are exposed almost the entire time that Gerber is dressing (perhaps it was a 70’s thing; I hardly ever see anything like that anymore). These incidents seem to suggest that Gerber is embracing his new race and developing a certain amount of pride in his identity.

But at the same time I wonder whether this change is to be taken seriously. Around 56 minutes in, there is a scene where Gerber tries to enter a club but is denied entry because of race. Soon after, a mob surrounds the entrance and demands that Gerber be granted equal access to the club, and the rather grandiose chant “is this America?” is repeated several times. Surely the chant suggests that this scene is not to be taken seriously: rather, it seems nothing but a chance for Gerber to indulge his own self-importance. Similarly, the scene starting from 1:19:00, where the neighbors negotiate with the Gerbers to get them to move out, could on the one hand be construed as an expression of black power, and on the other hand as greedy manipulations. I favor the latter interpretation: there is nothing racial about Gerber’s language. His language is mocking and sarcastic, not supported by morality or racial equality. He simply says, “Now try 90. Unless you don’t mind the smell of…” to get more money of the neighbors. He is enjoying himself far too much for his action to be anything but self-indulgence — similar is his final encounter with Townsend, where he says “screw you” and “about your breath…” which, really, have no purpose but to insult. And I’m not sure what to make of the penultimate scene in the black club. How is the image of a black stripper submitting to black men anything other than another form of oppression (though I might be saying that from the perspective of 2007)?

Thus, I conclude that, to me at least, Watermelon Man’s ending is ambivalent in that it’s never really clear whether Gerber is using the “race card” to assist in his personal revenge, or whether he honestly embraces his race. Comments?

My initial reaction to Watermelon Man

So, when I started the movie, I was ready to jot down a few observational notes…but to be honest, I didn’t take down many notes (okay, none) in the beginning because I was just stupefied and my thought was, “This movie is ‘wrong’ on so many levels!”   Since I was watching this movie for academic purposes, I (eventually) found myself trying to analyze each scene?  Does the opening sequence–Jeff exercising and racing the bus–serve to establish that he’s a little different than others? 

It is interesting to note that Jeff doesn’t mind tanning…until he thinks that his tanning bed has malfunctioned and made him “too” dark; when he complains about his newly acquired dark complexion, it made me think of the phrase “everything but the burden”–it’s okay to sport a nice healthy tan as long as the end results aren’t that one could actually be mistaken for black and consequently, treated poorly (or worse than the other/Other).  It is clear that Jeff wants to distance himself from having a black identity (think of his phone call with the tanning bed manager and he never uses the adjective “black” to describe himself; instead, he chooses “tan” and “dark”).  Later in the film, he does say that he’s black (in the white doctor’s office), but he still doesn’t want to accept this identity completely. 

We also see that other characters begin to attach larger meanings to the biological, which blurs into the natural.  In other words, other characters begin to note “clues” that could have/should have notified them earlier of the possibility of Jeff’s “true” identity as a black person.  For example, his white doctor notes that his (Jeff’s) lips were always on the fuller side and after Jeff makes one of his endless sarcastic remarks, Althea states that she never did understand Negro humor (which refers to an opening scene at the breakfast table in which Althea isn’t amused by Jeff’s comments and he doesn’t seem to be on her wavelength, either).

Quite a number of other scenes stuck out to me, but I’d be writing all afternoon if I were to begin, but I can list a few of them:

• The way Jeff turns animal-like and attacks the delivery man when he shows up to drop off the new tanning apparatus; Althea picks up a chair and further treats him like an animal (commanding, “Down!” or something like that as if he were a dog/beast)
• Before turning black, Jeff treats his wife with little regard (I wouldn’t say he treats her as his equal) and after the previously described scene with the delivery man, the roles reverse, at least temporarily, because she chastises Jeff as though he’s a child… 
• Jeff accepted their neighbors’ offer of $100,000 to move out of the neighborhood for fear that the values of their homes would plummet.  What I found most interesting in this scene is that Althea is present, yet says nothing…it’s her home, too, but she remains silent and the men–4 white ones and 1 black one–participate in the negotiating… 
• There are others, but lastly, how/why did Jeff turn black overnight?  Isn’t this a bit odd?

I don’t want to suggest that the film did not portray some verisimilitude, (like Althea’s claim that she’s liberal and sympathetic to black plight, yet, when it came down to having a black man as her husband, she couldn’t handle it) but I found myself shaking my head a lot, especially after it was all over.  Perhaps in a way the film could serve as some form of social commentary as it shows a few aspects of racism, but what is the real message it sends to the audience(s)? 

BLM and the clip

So I was thinking about the clip we watched in class and Black Like Me and I couldnt help but leave class in somewhat of a bad mood. While reading Black Like Me it was hard to decribe how I felt. Ive had the thought at some point or another that it would be interesting for once to see what it would be like for a white person to live in the shoes of a black person…just to see some of the things we go through. But reading the book more and watching the clip it angered me to see how they acted when they were black, as if they understood everything because no matter what they will never be black and never understand our history, discrimination, etc. At the end of the day they can continue their lives as a white person.

Op-Ed Column

There’s an article in the Op-Ed section by Bob Herbert that addresses Don Imus and influence of the media.  Unfortunately I don’t have a subscription to the NYtimes or I could post a link here, but I thought people might be interested in looking at the papers in Val.

Fresh Prince Episode

So I was up late the other night watching reruns of the Fresh Prince of Bel Aire and there was one line that really struck me (well, okay it was a poem):

Roses are red.
Violets are blue.
Jazz and i are black. But carleton, what are you?

So this comment probably flew by my younger self when I watched it the first time, but this time over it seemed so pertinent to the class. When I heard it, I thought a lot about performance. What kind of person do we perform? What kind of identity does Will accuse Carelton of performing? One assumes Will calls Carleton out for not acting “black enough”. It turns out to be a complicated statement. What does black mean? We look at Jazz and Will and might think that being black means wearing baggy, brightly colored outfits instead of a pastel sweater and kahkis that Carleton has on. Or maybe we can hold on to the fact that Carleton states his love of poetry while Will disagrees. Does this mean that blackness has something to do with not liking poetry? Well, of course it has nothing to do with either of those things. But it’s interesting to think that Carleton and Will are both performing what they think they, as black teenagers, they should be.
Bringing this back to class I think about any of the characters we’ve seen pass for another race. Whether it’s Rena taking on a authoritative tone or John Griffin following the lead of the man who shines shoes, we can see that the passer is putting on some kind of act. However, in the act of passing we can also see that the person was always acting to some extent. Rena and Griffin were always performing how they thought a person of their race and gender should act. Because they can change so easily to act another role almost gives it away.