Michael Jackson (1958 - 2009)

Man, Michael Jackson passes at 50.

Well, folks far more knowledgeable on the subject than me are writing about the contributions and sagas of this larger than life pop icon. So I can't add much in those areas. But still, it's seems important to at least mention his passing, his significance in this space, a black studies blog.

I have to say that among other things Jackson's passing at the young age of 50 is particularly saddening for me. Sure, many folks of my generation cannot remember a time without having the influence of his music around in some form or another, yet really...50, nah, that's too young.

But back to the point...Michael Jackson and black studies. What an idea it is to consider that Michael Jackson was indeed a black artist--the very embodiment of longstanding continuations and wild innovations of African American expressive traditions.

You almost hesitate to speak of his enormous cross-over appeal. I mean, cross-over from what to what? Wasn't he always already out there and right here all along?

Traditionally, Black Studies projects have looked at the struggles and achievements of "serious" figures like Frederick Douglass and Harriet Tubman, DuBois and Hurston, Malcolm and Martin. So what would it mean to look toward Michael Jackson?

And then which version of the "King of Pop" would we look at? I've been intrigued while watching the public memories how people seem to be remembering different Michael Jacksons. Some remember the little boy Michael of the Jackson 5; some remember the Thriller days Jackson; some remember the latter day one. All the versions seem quite valid, especially in the minds of the folks remembering.

Anyway...there's much to consider, much to remember.

The New York Booklet

So here's the cover of our Black Studies Writing New York booklet. As usual, we depended on the design talents of our dynamic duo, Marci and Tristan. They didn't disappoint.

The booklet, which we'll try to post excerpts of soon, contains an assortment of reflections on our time in New York. But looking back on the contents, I'm realizing that the booklet might also serve as a blueprint of sorts on how we might proceed with future projects.

If you'd like one of the booklets, drop me a line, and as long as we have some left, we'll send you one.

More on Whitehead Reviews

As mentioned before here, Colson Whitehead's recent novel Sag Harbor received an extraordinary number of reviews, a relatively rare occurrence for African American fiction. So it's worth noting and perhaps celebrating that a black author would receive so much attention.

But then, we're compelled to ask about how Whitehead's book, in this case, is being reviewed.

After covering approximately 50 reviews of Sag Harbor in various publications before reading the book, I was unaware of how central Whitehead was making race to his overall narrative. The majority of reviewers tended to focus on the apparent universal appeal of Whitehead's novel. That perhaps makes sense given their audiences and venues.

However, I'm nearly done reading Sag Harbor, and I have become unsettled with how little reviewers addressed the degrees to which Whitehead discussed black culture and ideas throughout his novel. Highlighting the universal in Whitehead's work arguably ensures that his book will be picked up by a larger number of readers. Cool. That's what's gained.

But what's lost and at whose expense when seemingly well-intentioned reviewers downplay race and under-appreciate the extents to which African American cultural practices and experience appear in fiction? Also, how and perhaps more importantly where do those of us interested in "black studies" intervene in conversations about contemporary African American literary art?

I'll finish the book soon and start trying to address these questions. In the meantime, if you have thoughts on the subject feel free to drop me a line.

Banks and Accusations of Racial Discrimination

So often when people think about racial discrimination, images of the Ku Klux Klan terrorizing black people, insults related to language and stereotypes, or individual black men shot by the police come immediately to mind. However, those issues could be only the tip of the iceberg so to speak, and larger, more pervasive acts of racial discrimination might likely manifest in different ways.

Michael Powell reports in his New York Times article Bank Accused of Pushing Mortgage Deals on Blacks that Baltimore city officials have filed suit against Wells Fargo because loan officers for the company allegedly targeted African Americans for high interest subprime mortgages. “These loans” apparently “tipped hundreds of homeowners into foreclosure and cost the city tens of millions of dollars in taxes and city services.”

Affidavits from former Wells Fargo loan officers reveal that for at least a decade the company seems to have been “systematically singling out” working-class African Americans and giving them higher-interest loans than white Americans with similar income and credit histories.

To support its claims, Baltimore city officials released data showing that “more than half the properties subject to foreclosure on a Wells Fargo loan from 2005 to 2008 now stand vacant. And 71 percent of those are in predominantly black neighborhoods.”

In her Baltimore Sun article on the developments, Tricia Bishop notes that one former loan officer for the company explained that “Wells Fargo targeted black communities for bad loans by focusing on African-American churches, using black employees as its public face, and using software to translate marketing materials into various languages, including something called “African American.”

As one of the former loan officers noted in the affidavits, Wells Fargo often developed relationships with black church leaders because they were thought to have “a lot of influence and could convince congregants to take out subprime loans.”

Overall, Wells Fargo and individual loan officers stood to make substantial financial gains by assigning high-interest loans to working-class African Americans. And, those substantial financial gains may have been a basis for actively targeting that particular demographic.

So far, spokespersons for Wells Fargo have denied any wrongdoing on the company’s part but have not responded to the specific claims raised in the affidavits. As they mount a defense they might state that the former loan officers were a select few but not part of a larger coordinated effort.

We’ll likely hear more from Wells Fargo and the Baltimore plaintiffs if the trial progresses. In the meantime, those affidavits give us views of what systematic acts of racial discrimination with far-reaching effects might look like.

Understanding the EBR Collection

Years ago, I agreed with many scholars and other observers about the particular significance of Eugene Redmond’s contributions to the study of African American poetry. Most folks felt (and rightly so) that Redmond’s book Drumvoices: The Mission of Afro-American Poetry, a Critical History (1976) was his most notable achievement in the study of black verse. Redmond’s in-depth treatment of such a wide range of African American poets covering so many decades in the book is really remarkable.

But what about the consistent, alternative coverage of poets and various other artists that he’s provided since the publication of Drumvoices in 1976 up until now? How might the results of his tireless documentary work shift our views of his contributions?

Over the last thirty or so years, Redmond has taken more than 150,000 photographs of creative artists and supporters of the arts. He recently donated his materials to SIUE’s library, and once the Eugene B. Redmond (EBR) Collection is catalogued, organized, and made readily available to the public, it’s my contention that we’ll have to greatly expand our understanding of Redmond’s contributions to the study of African American poets.

With Drumvoices, Redmond provided an extensive literary history of black poetry. With his photography, he has produced one of the most tremendous efforts by a black writer to document the social, artistic, and political activities of poets, novelists, musicians, dancers, scholars, and filmmakers during the late 20th and early 21st centuries.

Now, it will certainly take some years to get the materials in the collection fully catalogued, but we’ll eventually have the opportunity to witness one of the most extraordinary visual records of American and African American literary and artistic activity.

(Redmond photographing Amiri Baraka at SIUE, 2005).

Redmond's agreement to donate his materials to SIUE constitutes one of the university’s, and more generally, the region’s biggest victories. Those elite, private universities with the seemingly bottomless pocketbooks usually acquire the most coveted collections. But not this time.

In addition to the extensive photographing Redmond did during his travels across the country and in West Africa, what makes the collection especially important for the region relates to its outstanding documentation of local cultural activity. Sure, the collection features thousands of photographs of widely known poets such as Maya Angelou, Amiri Baraka, Jayne Cortez, Sonia Sanchez, Haki Madhubuti, Margaret Walker, and Gwendolyn Brooks, for instance, when they visited the region. Yet, the EBR Collection contains thousands of photographs and hundreds of flyers documenting years and years of readings and cultural gatherings in St. Louis, East St. Louis, Edwardsville, and the surrounding area.

If you’ve met Eugene Redmond, you know that he’s a fun and lively dude. But just a glance over the enormous body of materials comprising the EBR Collection reveals that he’s taken visual documentation of literary and cultural activity quite seriously. It’s actually a lively seriousness. I’m looking forward to how we’ll apply that lively seriousness to our approaches making the collection available to folks in the region and beyond.





Related content: Eugene B. Redmond and the EBR Collection

Adrian Matejka's Mixology

Before those iPods, before downloading all the music to computers, and even before CDs, we dealt in cassette players. Folks made mix-tapes. The true believers among us had loads and loads of tapes with labels like “slow songs,” “jazz,” “r & b,” “funk,” and too many “rap” ones to count. All those hours of dubbing, recording, selecting, organizing, labeling, and listening were essential for building a really serious collection.

It’s clear now more than ever that my colleague Adrian Matejka was one of those true believers. Somewhere in his basement, I imagine, he has a box full of homemade mix-tapes.

A couple of days ago, I attended a book release party for Adrian’s volume Mixology at the St. Louis Regional Arts Commission. Mixology is a thought-provoking collection of poems where themes of mixing—musically, racially, culturally, etcetera-lly—persist throughout the work. Adrian’s poems address a wide assortment of subjects, including Public Enemy, Fela Kuti, Spike Lee, Bob Kaufman, Affirmative Action, and basketball.

The allusions to this song and that one, the remixes of those historical narratives and these, and the careful selection of particular musical and literary references in Adrian’s book had me thinking that he’s certainly an old school mix-tape producer who does the poetry thing for a day job.

The book release party for Mixology was a lively affair with a large group of folks from St. Louis and Edwardsville, as well as poets Allison Joseph and Jon Tribble, who made the drive over from Carbondale.


During the event, Adrian read selections from his book, and memorably, for the last one, his daughter Marley joined him at the mic and assisted in presenting the poem.

Mixology was chosen by poet Kevin Young as a 2008 winner of the National Poetry Series (NPS). As a NPS recipient, Adrian’s book has links with previous winners such as Tyehimba Jess, Terrance Hayes, and Patricia Smith. It’s also possible to situate Adrian’s work alongside folks like Thomas Sayers Ellis and Major Jackson, two other fairly accomplished poets in his extended circle.

But aside from various collections, Mixology stands on its own in many ways as a testament to Adrian’s distinct poetic voice and as evidence of his mix-tape lineage.

(Adrian signing book for poet Allison Joseph)