Being Black on a College Campus

    For our last project we wore a noticeable corporeal marker. We walked around and recorded any reactions we had. I had a hard time with my marker but one of the things that I ended up wearing was a mask that says “Racist People Suck” . When I first saw the mask at the store I didn't think anything of it. I was like “I want that. duh yeah they do, some people may like it” But I never thought about anything negative that may come along with me wearing it. The first time I wore the mask out it was to a hockey game with my roommate. I wore it on my way to the arena no problem, but as soon as I got inside I saw someone read my mask and it dawned on me that not everyone is going to be okay with it, which seems stupid because of course there are people are the racists..that suck. But in my head Ohio University is a safe space and that wasn't something I needed to worry about. But I remembered the Make America Great Again and Trump 2020 flags, I remembered the Abort Black Babies signs, the nights at Red Brick where I heard white boys throwing around the N word in a multitude of ways and I remembered the small discriminatory things said to me during my time here. And suddenly I didn't feel safe, but I didn't take the mask off just yet. Me and my roommate made our way to our seats and while I was a little anxious because I was aware more people read it, it wasn't enough for me to take it off. But then I heard the words I dread to hear. “Please stand for our National Anthem”. And while I don't believe in the National Anthem I don't mind listening to it and I don't judge others for saying it, so that's not why I dread it. I dread the National Anthem because I know that any second now someone is going to give me death glare because while everyone else there is standing proud, hand over heart, I’m sitting down awkwardly staring at the ground. I believe in my stance on the National Anthem so much that I don't think I could ever be peer pressured to stand. But what I did feel pressured to do was take the mask off and switch to the extra standard blue mask I had in my pocket after I heard mumbles of the “black girl that’s sitting” and seeing fingers obviously pointed my way. I went to a graduation for the Marines during Trump’s presidency and didn't stand up and was a little scared but was otherwise fine. So why did I feel so anxious and like I shouldnt wear it here on my mostly liberal college campus? When I got home that night I thought about it and talked to my roommate about it because it really upset me. 

    We came to the conclusion that my anxiety came less from a place of fear or being uncomfortable and more from feeling like my safe space was being violated. I’ve talked before about how much this campus means to me and how I consider it my home. I’ve always felt free to be myself and express myself in any way and without that much judgement. But wearing a mask with a semi-politically statement on it that I knew could incite anger and confrontation made me scared to be myself and express my beliefs. In class we talk about the importance of safety in an environment and how that changes the way that we see ourselves and how we are perceived by others. It occurred to me while doing the corporeal marker project that just by being black on campus that created a sense of “unsafeness” because of the current climate of our world.So naturally I remembered our discussions in class about the article Walking While Black by Garnette Cadogan(which is a whole post in itself) but most importantly. Spatial Justice and Spatial Claims. Spatial claims are the right “to be and become”. “To use spatial claims also include rights to be safe in space regardless of gender, race, sexual- orientation, and other aspects of identity” (pg.6). Wearing the mask reminded me about how at times I feel like I shouldn't be in for example the Marine graduation, Athens or on campus or in a certain place because of the color of my skin and my beliefs. 

      In this post I talked about a very small amount of my experiences as a black student on a predominantly white campus. And thankfully I haven't had anything that went beyond and uncomfortable scary confrontation with a random stranger. But there are many people who have experienced much worse. Below I linked a video that interviews individuals who have faced racial bias on a college campus, and discusses ways that people can recognize bias in themselves in certain situations and how to further navigate them. Thanks for reading/watching :) 

Colleges and Universities Have a Racial Profiling Problem

Cited: 

Cadogan, Garnette. 2016. “Walking While Black.” Literary Hub, July 8, 2016.

Being Queer in Public Space

We've been talking a lot about public space throughout the class, and last week we really honed in on the implications of public space and how it affects different groups. For example, in Mitchell's article, the author argued that public space legitimizes and delegitimizes the public that inhabits the given public space. Mitchell focused mostly on the homeless, and how they are seen as an involuntary public, thus inept to be considered by definition, "legitimate citizens" (p. 118). The author explains, though homeless people are almost always in public spaces, they are rarely considered part of the public.

This made me think about the public as a cisheteronormative space, and how often queer and gender non-conforming individuals have to adjust their mannerisms or performance of identity in public space to not be the target of slurs, violence, stares, or other uncomfortable situations. I thought about how queer folks are often delegitimized in society, let alone in their experiences in public space. I found a great article that talks about these experiences of LGBTQIAP+ individuals' in their first times holding hands in public; some of the excerpts from the informants are endearing and overcoming, but others demonstrate perfectly the danger that queer folks tip-toe around in public.

For example, one lesbian respondent states, "I was 21 in Lincoln, Neb. It was 1996. In a moment of affection, I grabbed my girlfriend’s hand and was promptly threatened by an angry young man who fantasized in great detail about blowing my head off with a shotgun" (Phillip, 2018).

Another informant recalls, "...we really try to refrain from touching too much and rarely kiss in public. Not to say we aren't affectionate in public, but we stay very conscious of what is too much and what might offend people. Less than a year into my relationship with the woman I am now married to, we were walking into a Walmart holding hands. We were talking to each other and paying no mind to anyone else. A man was coming out of the store with his daughter (probably 3 to 4 years old) and made a face at us and then said, very loudly, 'That's disgusting'" (Phillip, 2018).

In my own personal experience, I was closeted in high school when I was dating my ex-girlfriend, and we never touched or stood too close to one another in public. We didn't want to call attention to ourselves, we were uncomfortable and scared, and had to press pause on our affection whenever we were out in public. This is a mild experience. Black and Brown queer individuals face racialised, intersectional discrimination as opposed to white queer folks, and I am privileged as a white, cis-presenting genderqueer individual in my experiences in public as gay.

This privilege is incredibly evident in this breathtaking spoken-word poem I have found on Youtube. It is titled, "To the Transphobic Cis White Gay Men at Pride." The speaker explains, "Did you know that pride was birthed from a [Black] woman with a penis? But most of us still can't call 9-1-1 when we are assaulted; when we are called a tr*nny n***** in the streets. When we are followed home with catcalls and fear lodged in our throats--I wonder, do you still think about the death toll when you come? [...] How there was never a flag to stop us from being murdered?"

I found this poem wildly powerful. I have linked both the Phillip article and the poem below. I hope both sources spark some thought or insight. Thanks all.

Sources:

https://www.nytimes.com/2018/06/21/reader-center/pride-month-gay-queer-expressions.html

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KnXhH5yWoG8&ab_channel=ButtonPoetry

Homelessness and Halloween: Taking a trip back to 2013's HallOUween

https://mcch.net/2017/10/17/homelessness-not-costume-mcch/

Wealth, to Poverty, to Antique Shopping: The Story of Gentrification in San Telmo

The barrio of San Telmo is an icon of Buenos Aires. It has seen intense changes throughout its history, being the oldest burrow of the city. It is home to iconic parts of Argentine culture, such as tango, the fileteado painting style, and Sunday antique fairs. It is where great writers like Julio Cortázar and Jorge Luis Borges would write for inspiration. 

A tango couple performing during the
Sunday Feria on Plaza Dorrego

 On a walk through its narrow streets, visitors have the chance to visit its iconic coventillos. Originally mansions, many wealthy families chose to migrant to greener pastures in La Pampa province. Thus, these unique buildings were left abandoned. 

A coventillo in the late 19th Century

During the late 19th and early 20th centuries, millions of Spanish and Italian immigrants came to Argentina’s shores. In a unique decision, specific rooms of these mansions housed immigrant families, turning the estates into apartments (coventillos). Still, during the past thirty years, San Telmo has slowly been experiencing its third significant change, and its modern challenge comes with the word gentrification. The conventillo style of living is no more. One can enter these historical buildings, such as Casa de los Ezeiza, and find a different function: boutiques, antique shops, cafes, and bed & breakfasts.  

Inside Casa de la Ezeiza
(Aka Casa Defensa)

El Mercado de San Telmo

As a person who has spent a lot of time in Buenos Aires and specifically San Telmo, I noticed the locals' concerns. On the outside, San Telmo is booming with business, but on the inside, locals are afraid that the amount of attention it receives will make it impossible to live in. It appears that San Telmo's economy focuses on the short-term stay of tourists, and with few commodities for
those who reside there. For example, in the emblematic market area, one could find over 20 butcheries filled with world-renowned Argentine beef inside. Now there are less than three, and these areas are now antique stores. The famous Sunday antique market in Plaza Dorrego has also bothered locals. The overpopulated streets have made it unbearable for many, making them decide to leave and sell their inherited coventillos to multi-million-dollar hotels.

A typical Sunday through Calle Defensa in San Telmo

From my personal experience, porteños love preserving and sharing their heritage, especially those from San Telmo. I remember speaking to a local fileteado painter about this issue in 2018. The problem to him is that the plan for San Telmo is not stable. It is pushing out the people that started the sought-after culture in the first place.

Fileteado paintings, a unique style started by Italian Immigrants

 He and other San Telmo natives do not mind foreigners living or visiting San Telmo, places are going to inevitably change, after all. The issue is that the community is not involved in the changes. The fears are similar to the documentary “Flag Wars”, telling the story of LGBTQ members moving into a historically black neighborhood in Columbus, Ohio. In the documentary, local leaders of the Black Community feared how outsiders would outprice residents, and change the rich culture that was created there. 

The story of San Telmo leads to a question that still needs to be answered, how can a historical space remain authentic to its cultural heritage, while allowing outside influence? One thing is for sure, the local community needs heavy involvement.  

Bar Dorrego, a symbol of San Telmo

Sources and more information on San Telmo Gentrification: 

https://wp.nyu.edu/artandpoliticsinthecity/2015/08/28/san-telmo-les-history-culture/

https://www.theguardian.com/cities/2016/jan/13/no-choice-leave-displacement-tales-long-term-gentrification-six-cities

https://www.telam.com.ar/notas/201705/188874-los-nativos-de-san-telmo-en-alerta-por-el-exceso-de-turistas-y-negocios.html

 Capoeira, public space, and identities

The other day one of my closest friends posted a video of her playing capoeira on the Paris metro. For those of you who are not familiar with this practice, capoeira is an Afro-Brazilian art form that combines body movement, martial arts, and music. The oral history of capoeira tells us that this was a practice developed by enslaved people in Brazil to defend themselves against the enslavers and resist oppression. Like many other practices of African and Black ancestry, capoeira was marginalized and even penalized for many years. Nonetheless, through social and political processes, capoeira became a symbol of Brazil, and years later it was spread throughout the world. Through globalization and transnational practice, capoeira has also suffered a commodification process, which, for some capoeira masters and practitioners, has implied a detachment from the roots and meanings of the practice. However, this translocal process has also implied that capoeira is being experienced and perceived as a practice of resistance, empowerment, and identity.

Even though my friend’s capoeira performance on the Paris metro is not the first that I have seen -or done- in ‘unusual places’, I think this is a very good example of how capoeira, and other marginalized practices, are useful to think about how we experience places and our bodies. When we are using public transport or when we are in a public place, we might feel sometimes constricted. We are supposed to seat on the bus or the metro and exercise or move in a studio or a gym. However, even in places where we are supposed to move, we find restrictions. For instance, it is difficult for me to find a place in Ping Recreation Center to train or move. Many open spaces are restricted for group use, so I have had to use the hallway innumerous times to practice. Sometimes I do practice in outdoor spaces. However, the weather does not always allow this. Thus, I have had to constantly look for new places to train and move. I am constantly negotiating with the use of these spaces to overcome limitations and movement restrictions.

I need to move, to practice capoeira. I do not do this just because I love it. I do this because I am working on capoeira. I am a graduate student at the Latin American Studies program. I have a Political Science background, but I am also a capoeirista. Actually, capoeira has now become the focus of my research. This once marginalized practice has opened many doors for me in terms of education, funding, and work. Likewise, it has opened physical doors for me. I taught a capoeira workshop with the OU Movement student organization, and after that, I have been able to use the dance studios at Putnam Hall to train. I was also invited to teach and perform in dance conferences and festivals next spring. In short, my body experience has allowed me to overcome spatial restrictions and has opened new opportunities for me in terms of social mobility.

Nicola de Martini Ugolotti and Eileen Moyer’s article ‘If I climb a wall of ten meters’: capoeira, parkour and the politics of public space among (post) migrant youth in Turin, Italy also addresses these experiences. They conducted ethnographic research in Turin, Italy, about the experiences of migrant youth who face the incertitude to abandon the country because of their migratory status. In short, they argue that this marginalized community uses their bodies and practices to reappropriate public spaces and challenge “dominant visions about what constitutes the public, how it should be used and by whom.” (2016, p. 188).

Finally, the video I posted here of myself practicing capoeira in front of the Alumni Gateway at College Green is a performance of empowerment and identity. I am wearing one of my OU t-shirts and moving with capoeira in an iconic OU place. This can relate to the ideas we discussed on how our bodies are places where we create identity and a sense of belonging, and, at the same time, I am reframing my understanding of the use of public space. I hope you find this post useful to think about these concepts related to personal experiences.

Work Cited: De Martini Ugolotti, N., & Moyer, E. (2016). ‘If I climb a wall of ten meters’: capoeira, parkour and the politics of public space among (post) migrant youth in Turin, Italy. Patterns of Prejudice. 50(2), 188-206, http://dx.doi.org/10.1080/0031322X.2016.1164435.