The houses that slavery built

There is a thing happening now that is confusing to me. Perhaps you can help me understand it. The Barbados National Trust is a local charity concerned with "the preservation of places of historic and architectural interest or of natural beauty and ecological importance". One of their programmes in an open house initiative, in which the public is invited to view not only historical homes, but also "newer, luxurious Bajan-Style villas". You pay some money, enter the property, engage in due amounts of oohing and aahing, and there. You've had your open house experience.

It has seemed to me over the years that most of the people who attended the open houses were tourists, along with those locals and expatriates with a particular interest in architecture or museums. But there seems to be an effort afoot this year (I can't say with any surety that the effort is peculiar to 2010, but I am just noticing it in the campaign's publicity) to encourage more locals - your, ahem, average Barbadians - to participate. The CBC Evening news ran a segment this week showcasing the first open house of the season, and this is where I'm going to fail you on the details, because I don't recall the location, and I don't have a clip or article to show you. I have nothing, in fact. You essentially have to take my word - paraphrased as it is - that this is what happened:

Dr. Karl Watson, a UWI historian and local champion of historical and environmental preservation, was in attendance at the event, as expected, and as the camera panned around to show who the guests were, was giving his thoughts on the importance of open houses and the like. He was pleased with the turnout, and the fact that there seemed to be more locals there, because Black Barbadians should take an interest in seeing the homes that their ancestors had built. Sounds harmless enough, although Dr. Watson being a White man does tend to nuance his telling Black Barbadians in which parts of their heritage they should take an interest. But let's accept this and move on.

The reporter on the story also heard from the owner/resident of the property - also a White man, this time of non-Barbadian provenance - who was chuffed that people had taken the opportunity to come out and see his home, because when he first moved (t)here he had spoken to the people in the village from time to time, and they had said no, they'd never been inside, and had no idea what it looked like, a fact by which he seemed surprised.

Right then, so this is what the invitation translates to: I, as a descendant of slaves, should be interested in paying for the privilege of being allowed inside the homes built from the toil of my enslaved ancestors, in order to observe the inordinate wealth in which slave owners lived at that time (especially as compared with slaves, who literally owned nothing, including themselves), and in which White owners of these properties continue to live today. Yeah. Thanks.

Now I might be wrong about a fact or two. Perhaps in the interest of getting more locals in, they waived fees for those coming from the surrounding areas. I don't know if that's true. It would make sense if they had, and if it's true, feel free to correct me. But it doesn't change what is wrong with some of the absurd statements I heard in that newscast. Barbadians are famous for our reluctance to have anything to do with the history of slavery (incidentally, Dr. Watson is also making absurd statements in the article linked here, although I'd like to think the cluelessness is a result of something lost in the journey from the newsroom. Barbadians don't want to cut sugarcane because they see it as a relic of slavery? I can't think where they would get that notion). And I have my own thoughts on that - on the idea that engaging in any discourse that recalls the horrors of slavery is necessarily an undesirable thing - but I understand it. A few have tried to widen that discourse, to demonstrate that it might actually be a useful and empowering one, but the jury's still out on that. So I get that there's a need - as far as some of us are concerned - to stimulate Barbadians' engagement in learning about our heritage. But here's what I don't get: a group of privileged, often White, sometimes non-Barbadian, sometimes non-descendants of slaves telling me in what parts of my heritage and consciousness-raising I should engage as a Black Barbadian. And worse, encouraging me to do so in an environment that reinforces the racial and economic hierarchy that existed in the time of slavery. I'm meant to mill about a rich, White man's property - one that was built by slaves - as said rich, White man looks on - and then go home feeling honoured to have been allowed?

I say all that in the first person because there were Black Barbadians there, who said on camera that they live nearby, and had been curious about the place, so they took the opportunity to go in and see what was what. One woman, when asked her impressions, basically said (I'm paraphrasing again) that the stuff inside didn't seem all that ornate and she was expecting more expensive things, but overall it was nice, which made me chuckle.

I am not against the work of the National Trust in preserving and showcasing historic sites. I think it's a great thing. But here's the thing: when the only commentary you have to make on race relations in Barbados - both old and new - involves telling me how to experience the history of slavery on your terms, in an immediate environment not unlike the actual environment at that time, where the property built by Black slaves was occupied and enjoyed by the wealthy White, and you do not see or acknowledge what is problematic about that picture, then that's where I have a problem.

I was speaking to my friend about it last night, and I told her "I am going to call that man - Dr. Watson - on the telephone." And she agreed that I should. So I will. I'll let you know how that turns out.

Whose flesh?

This post at Shakesville reminds me of a conversation I recently had with a friend regarding the flesh-coloured crayon in the Crayola box. (Wikipedia tells me that Crayola changed their 'Flesh' to 'Peach' in 1962, but I was born almost 2 decades later, and there was definitely a 'Flesh' in my box. Man, the Caribbean really did get the oldest, broken-down sh!t as imports.) So my friend and I were talking about our confusion as children over the Flesh colour in the box. She never bothered with it, she said, because Flesh was an odd name anyway. It's true. Even leaving the shade of the thing aside, who wants to use a colour called Flesh? It's like colouring with Meat. Or Carcass.

I, on the other hand, thought that by Flesh they meant tissue: the deeper layers of the skin. It was because whenever someone got a really bad gash on the playground, we'd all ooh and aah over the fact that you could see beyond the top layer of skin and blood, down to the flesh! That was what we called it, and that was an indication that this was a Very Severe Wound, and the sufferer might die, or at least miss an afternoon of school while he got 10 stitches. Thing is, that 'flesh', the bit of ickiness that was exposed with a bad laceration (which was probably fat, or something equally tame), was very nearly the colour of Crayola's Flesh crayon. So I, as a 5-yr-old, thought the crayon manufacturers oddly precise and a bit morbid (what 5-yr-old was hanging out drawing pictures of gaping wounds?), but didn't really think much else of it.

That was until teachers and camp counsellors started insisting that we use the Flesh crayon to colour in the skin of the people we drew, at which time I had to point out that the people I was drawing were not that colour; they were brown, like me; and, actually, like the teacher.

"No. That's the one you use to colour people. See? It says 'flesh', meaning skin."

In the interest of getting on with my masterpiece, I was willing to make a concession:

"Ok, well Maria (the light-skinned Black girl) can use it then. For her people."

"No. It's for all people. That brown is too dark. The people you see in pictures aren't that colour."

Indeed. This was part of the problem. I eventually got out my Ken and Judy book, and showed this woman that actually, a couple of the people you saw in pictures were that colour. I could have shown her a mirror. That would have worked just as well. Or perhaps not, since I'm assuming she had one at home but still hadn't managed to figure out what shade her skin was.

But the Flesh Dilemma was of course not limited to Crayola. As most people of colour know, Flesh means White flesh, and this notion was reflected in many of the products around us. No one I knew could wear Flesh panty-hose. My mother's shade was Cedar Brown, and if you were any darker than that, you had to settle for this kind of off-black thing that made you look as if you had just been rescued from a house fire. Going bra shopping with my mother, I noticed that bras came in black, white and flesh. The idea of brown as a neutral is strictly a 21st century concept, at least in my world, and one that has in some places not yet caught on. I know this because I overheard a woman describing her New Year's outfit recently. She was close to my complexion, and mentioned that she had worn flesh-coloured shoes "so nothing would clash". Flesh? Her friend asked. Yes, like this, she said, and pointed to a taupe wall.

They're not just crayons. Some of the messages we internalize as children, about our identities and the very visibility and validity of our person, never go away.

Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.

Today is Martin Luther King Jr. Day, and I wanted to post some excerpts from my favourite sermon of his, The Drum Major Instinct, delivered on February 4th 1968. I'm not religious, but the speech isn't just about humility among Christians; it's about the dangers of classism and racism, of institutionalized privilege, and holds an important message for us all. You can also listen at the link.

"This morning I would like to use as a subject from which to preach: "The Drum Major Instinct." "The Drum Major Instinct." And our text for the morning is taken from a very familiar passage in the tenth chapter as recorded by Saint Mark. Beginning with the thirty-fifth verse of that chapter

[...] Jesus goes on toward the end of that passage to say, "But so shall it not be among you: but whosoever will be great among you, shall be your servant: and whosoever of you will be the chiefest, shall be servant of all."

The setting is clear. James and John are making a specific request of the master. They had dreamed, as most of the Hebrews dreamed, of a coming king of Israel who would set Jerusalem free and establish his kingdom on Mount Zion, and in righteousness rule the world. And they thought of Jesus as this kind of king. And they were thinking of that day when Jesus would reign supreme as this new king of Israel. And they were saying, "Now when you establish your kingdom, let one of us sit on the right hand and the other on the left hand of your throne."

Now very quickly, we would automatically condemn James and John, and we would say they were selfish. Why would they make such a selfish request? But before we condemn them too quickly, let us look calmly and honestly at ourselves, and we will discover that we too have those same basic desires for recognition, for importance. That same desire for attention, that same desire to be first.

[...] And there is deep down within all of us an instinct. It's a kind of drum major instinct—a desire to be out front, a desire to lead the parade, a desire to be first. And it is something that runs the whole gamut of life.

[...][L]et us see that we all have the drum major instinct. We all want to be important, to surpass others, to achieve distinction, to lead the parade.

[...] And you know, we begin early to ask life to put us first. Our first cry as a baby was a bid for attention. And all through childhood the drum major impulse or instinct is a major obsession.

[...] Now in adult life, we still have it, and we really never get by it. We like to do something good. And you know, we like to be praised for it. Now if you don't believe that, you just go on living life, and you will discover very soon that you like to be praised. Everybody likes it, as a matter of fact. And somehow this warm glow we feel when we are praised or when our name is in print is something of the vitamin A to our ego. Nobody is unhappy when they are praised, even if they know they don't deserve it and even if they don't believe it. The only unhappy people about praise is when that praise is going too much toward somebody else. (That’s right) But everybody likes to be praised because of this real drum major instinct.

Now the presence of the drum major instinct is why so many people are "joiners." You know, there are some people who just join everything. And it's really a quest for attention and recognition and importance. And they get names that give them that impression. So you get your groups, and they become the "Grand Patron," and the little fellow who is henpecked at home needs a chance to be the "Most Worthy of the Most Worthy" of something. It is the drum major impulse and longing that runs the gamut of human life. And so we see it everywhere, this quest for recognition. And we join things, overjoin really, that we think that we will find that recognition in.

Now the presence of this instinct explains why we are so often taken by advertisers. You know, those gentlemen of massive verbal persuasion. And they have a way of saying things to you that kind of gets you into buying. In order to be a man of distinction, you must drink this whiskey. In order to make your neighbors envious, you must drive this type of car. (Make it plain) In order to be lovely to love you must wear this kind of lipstick or this kind of perfume. And you know, before you know it, you're just buying that stuff. (Yes) That's the way the advertisers do it.

I got a letter the other day, and it was a new magazine coming out. And it opened up, "Dear Dr. King: As you know, you are on many mailing lists. And you are categorized as highly intelligent, progressive, a lover of the arts and the sciences, and I know you will want to read what I have to say." Of course I did. After you said all of that and explained me so exactly, of course I wanted to read it. [laughter]

[...] There comes a time that the drum major instinct can become destructive. (Make it plain) And that's where I want to move now. I want to move to the point of saying that if this instinct is not harnessed, it becomes a very dangerous, pernicious instinct.

[...] It causes you to lie about who you know sometimes. (Amen, Make it plain) There are some people who are influence peddlers. And in their attempt to deal with the drum major instinct, they have to try to identify with the so-called big-name people. (Yeah, Make it plain) And if you're not careful, they will make you think they know somebody that they don't really know. (Amen) They know them well, they sip tea with them, and they this-and-that. That happens to people.

[...] Now the other problem is, when you don't harness the drum major instinct—this uncontrolled aspect of it—is that it leads to snobbish exclusivism. It leads to snobbish exclusivism. (Make it plain) And you know, this is the danger of social clubs and fraternities—I'm in a fraternity; I'm in two or three—for sororities and all of these, I'm not talking against them. I'm saying it's the danger. The danger is that they can become forces of classism and exclusivism where somehow you get a degree of satisfaction because you are in something exclusive. And that's fulfilling something, you know—that I'm in this fraternity, and it's the best fraternity in the world, and everybody can't get in this fraternity. So it ends up, you know, a very exclusive kind of thing.

[...] The drum major instinct can lead to exclusivism in one's thinking and can lead one to feel that because he has some training, he's a little better than that person who doesn't have it. Or because he has some economic security, that he's a little better than that person who doesn't have it. And that's the uncontrolled, perverted use of the drum major instinct.

Now the other thing is, that it leads to tragic—and we've seen it happen so often—tragic race prejudice. Many who have written about this problem—Lillian Smith used to say it beautifully in some of her books. And she would say it to the point of getting men and women to see the source of the problem. Do you know that a lot of the race problem grows out of the drum major instinct? A need that some people have to feel superior. A need that some people have to feel that they are first, and to feel that their white skin ordained them to be first. (Make it plain, today, ‘cause I’m against it, so help me God) And they have said over and over again in ways that we see with our own eyes. In fact, not too long ago, a man down in Mississippi said that God was a charter member of the White Citizens Council. And so God being the charter member means that everybody who's in that has a kind of divinity, a kind of superiority. And think of what has happened in history as a result of this perverted use of the drum major instinct. It has led to the most tragic prejudice, the most tragic expressions of man's inhumanity to man.

The other day I was saying, I always try to do a little converting when I'm in jail. And when we were in jail in Birmingham the other day, the white wardens and all enjoyed coming around the cell to talk about the race problem. And they were showing us where we were so wrong demonstrating. And they were showing us where segregation was so right. And they were showing us where intermarriage was so wrong. So I would get to preaching, and we would get to talking—calmly, because they wanted to talk about it. And then we got down one day to the point—that was the second or third day—to talk about where they lived, and how much they were earning. And when those brothers told me what they were earning, I said, "Now, you know what? You ought to be marching with us. [laughter] You're just as poor as Negroes." And I said, "You are put in the position of supporting your oppressor, because through prejudice and blindness, you fail to see that the same forces that oppress Negroes in American society oppress poor white people. (Yes) And all you are living on is the satisfaction of your skin being white, and the drum major instinct of thinking that you are somebody big because you are white. And you're so poor you can't send your children to school. You ought to be out here marching with every one of us every time we have a march."

Now that's a fact. That the poor white has been put into this position, where through blindness and prejudice, (Make it plain) he is forced to support his oppressors. And the only thing he has going for him is the false feeling that he’s superior because his skin is white—and can't hardly eat and make his ends meet week in and week out. (Amen)

And not only does this thing go into the racial struggle, it goes into the struggle between nations. And I would submit to you this morning that what is wrong in the world today is that the nations of the world are engaged in a bitter, colossal contest for supremacy.

[...] But this is why we are drifting. And we are drifting there because nations are caught up with the drum major instinct. "I must be first." "I must be supreme." "Our nation must rule the world." (Preach it) And I am sad to say that the nation in which we live is the supreme culprit. And I'm going to continue to say it to America, because I love this country too much to see the drift that it has taken.

[...] If you want to be important—wonderful. If you want to be recognized—wonderful. If you want to be great—wonderful. But recognize that he who is greatest among you shall be your servant. (Amen) That's a new definition of greatness.

And this morning, the thing that I like about it: by giving that definition of greatness, it means that everybody can be great, (Everybody) because everybody can serve. (Amen) You don't have to have a college degree to serve. (All right) You don't have to make your subject and your verb agree to serve. You don't have to know about Plato and Aristotle to serve. You don't have to know Einstein's theory of relativity to serve. You don't have to know the second theory of thermodynamics in physics to serve. (Amen) You only need a heart full of grace, (Yes, sir, Amen) a soul generated by love. (Yes) And you can be that servant.

[...] Every now and then I guess we all think realistically (Yes, sir) about that day when we will be victimized with what is life's final common denominator—that something that we call death. We all think about it. And every now and then I think about my own death and I think about my own funeral. And I don't think of it in a morbid sense. And every now and then I ask myself, "What is it that I would want said?" And I leave the word to you this morning.

If any of you are around when I have to meet my day, I don’t want a long funeral. And if you get somebody to deliver the eulogy, tell them not to talk too long. (Yes) And every now and then I wonder what I want them to say. Tell them not to mention that I have a Nobel Peace Prize—that isn’t important. Tell them not to mention that I have three or four hundred other awards—that’s not important. Tell them not to mention where I went to school. (Yes)

I'd like somebody to mention that day that Martin Luther King, Jr., tried to give his life serving others. (Yes)

I'd like for somebody to say that day that Martin Luther King, Jr., tried to love somebody.

I want you to say that day that I tried to be right on the war question. (Amen)

I want you to be able to say that day that I did try to feed the hungry. (Yes)

And I want you to be able to say that day that I did try in my life to clothe those who were naked. (Yes)

I want you to say on that day that I did try in my life to visit those who were in prison. (Lord)

I want you to say that I tried to love and serve humanity. (Yes)

Yes, if you want to say that I was a drum major, say that I was a drum major for justice. (Amen) Say that I was a drum major for peace. (Yes) I was a drum major for righteousness. And all of the other shallow things will not matter. (Yes) I won't have any money to leave behind. I won't have the fine and luxurious things of life to leave behind. But I just want to leave a committed life behind. (Amen)

And that's all I want to say.

Nobody does racist like KFC

KFC claims that its ad showing a white Australian 'calming' a crowd of apparently scary West Indies cricket team fans by timidly offering them a bucket of chicken is certainly not racist, and that the criticism it has attracted is just the result of a cultural misunderstanding and misinterpretation by "a segment of people in the US".

Here's the ad:



And here's what KFC had to say:

"It is a light-hearted reference to the West Indian cricket team," the statement read.

"The ad was reproduced online in the US without KFC's permission, where we are told a culturally-based stereotype exists, leading to the incorrect assertion of racism.

"We unequivocally condemn discrimination of any type and have a proud history as one of the world's leading employers for diversity."

So the ad was not supposed to be viewed by Americans, but presumably only by racist Australians? Here's a question: was it supposed to be viewed by West Indians? Because I'm one, and I'm a cricket fan. And I'm pissed off. Hope that helps.

True, there isn't the same stereotype in the Caribbean - as there is in the US - that black people like fried chicken. But 1) the entire world and parts of Saturn are aware of the "black people like fried chicken" stereotype. You create an ad featuring groups of Black people that you're portraying as unruly and perhaps threatening (hence the white guy cowering in the middle); it doesn't matter that the people aren't wearing red, white and blue. They are Black people. That is going to offend Black Americans, and quite possibly Black people elsewhere.

2) Even in the absence of the fried chicken stereotype, that ad is offensive. Black people (Caribbean or otherwise) can apparently not be identified with, or spoken to with actual words (most of the West Indies team and their fans speak English as a first language, by the way). So they must be offered food. Cheap, unhealthy food offered by a White man in order to achieve some self-serving ends. That does not sound familiar at all.

3)Alright, so non-cricket-watching Americans don't get it. There's a rivalry, see, that has existed for decades, between the Australian and West Indies cricket teams. And here's an Aussie fan stuck in the middle of the West Indies section. However will he escape? Well, for starters, he could be shot eating some of the chicken himself. Two extra seconds of filming that may have saved KFC a lot of embarrassment. That way, the message could have been "See? Crappy fried food brings us together!" Rather than "Want to calm the natives? Offer them some heart disease chicken!" He actually utters the words "too easy" after the chicken has presumably worked its voodoo.

The overwhelming argument in support of the ad and attacking the stoopid Americans who dare to get offended is as follows: it was aired at a cricket match between Australia and the West Indies, so you won't get it because you don't get the Australian cricket culture. Well, there's another culture to consider here, which is kind of the point. And had I been at that cricket match when that ad was aired, I would have had some issues.

A new look at our Chinese connection

On Thursday, China marked six decades of Communist rule with an enormous, highly-choreographed parade displaying its military might and seeming to celebrate - with its strict formations and careful selection of local spectators - rigid conformity among its people. At least that's how it struck me when I turned my TV on to our one local channel and saw the parade, which was being televised here. In Barbados. On the one local channel.

Granted I was a bit woozy with sleep when I turned on the television. Still languishing in my cable-free existence, I don't watch much TV these days. But every now and then, Channel 8 will broadcast some show offering information that I probably wouldn't otherwise have accessed. A few weeks ago, there was one explaining and seeking solutions for our problems with coastal erosion and the coral reefs that we've managed to destroy, and more recently, a great series of interviews with experts and activists working to reduce the spread of HIV/AIDS in Barbados. So I tuned in on Thursday night in the hopes that I might see something illuminating, and I suppose that's what I got, in so far as the broadcast of the celebrations caused me to realize just how much our 'diplomatic involvement' with China seems to be growing, and to simultaneously ponder what in sky-blue tarnation Prime Minister Thompson and his Cabinet are brewing over there in the Ministry of Foreign Affairs.

Now, Barbados has engaged in diplomatic relations with China since the 1970s, and the two countries have a well established history of bilateral economic cooperation as well as cultural exchanges. Chinese economic funding of capital projects here has been accompanied by the country's provision of its own workforce on such projects, and over time, the appearance of Chinese temporary migrant workers has increased. The population of more permanent migrants has also seemed to grow steadily, but still represents a miniscule proportion of our population. In recent months, the Thompson administration has placed huge emphasis on its efforts to increase the proportion of economic assistance that comes from China. In fact, it appears to be government's key economic strategy for containing the deficit while continuing to grow the economy through the funding of capital projects. Less transparent, however, has been the other part of the equation: what are the conditionalities, if any, upon which this economic assistance is contingent? Is this aid tied to any development indicators? To the reciprocity of economic goodwill via, for example, absorption of an increased Chinese labour force? In short, what does China stand to gain from giving us all this money?

We're not sure, but in the meantime, the current administration has embarked upon some kind of "Embrace China" campaign, in which Thursday's parade was prefaced by the exhortations of the PM to watch the proceedings, proceedings which were clearly meant to convince anyone watching of China's greatness as a socialist nation that has avoided the economic ruin plaguing other countries, and also of the fact that they have large guns, and know how to use them. The spectacle was, frankly, disturbing. And as we saw the odd proximity of flag-bearing children to tanks and rocket launchers and the giant portrait of Chairman Mao floating imperiously across Tiananmen Square, one wondered why the Barbados government was so invested in having us observe, invested enough to send us a special message to watch on television, just as China's President Hu Jintao had sent a message to its citizens. Why China would want its own citizens to watch is not difficult to fathom: as China's economic power and prospecting grow abroad, so too does the backlash against its presence and policies, and with it, the relative insecurity of its people living in the countries on whom it has set its mercantilist sights. Over 3000 Chinese tourists were hurriedly evacuated from Thailand during civil unrest in November last year. And from the coast of Somalia to Papua New Guinea and even nearer home in Xinjiang and Tibet, China has been actively engaged in using military force to suppress uprisings in order, ostensibly, to protect its assets and people. So Thursday's parade was meant to convince not so much its Western competitors as its own people both at home abroad of the government's capacity to protect and its general wonderfulness concerning the country's development. I'd imagine that if a government is really successful, it wouldn't take hours of marching and weapons displays for its citizens to be convinced, but we know that China has never been one for the soft touch when it comes to influencing what its people 'believe'.

But I'm still not sure why even they would care about how 270 000 people on a little rock in the Caribbean Sea perceive them. As it stands, the handful of Chinese living here are not under threat from much of anything, except perhaps idiotic calypso songs, (which when you consider how idiotic might actually be something of an incentive to increase cultural awareness). But apart from that, why insist on broadcasting such an intimidating show of Chinese strength in li'l ole Barbados? Especially without any context or introduction? I have to confess that even as a non-alarmist who has some understanding of Chinese economic and foreign policy, even I was starting to get nervous about possible appropriation of our entire country by the Chinese government. I found myself thinking for a brief, silly moment, "Holy crap...David Thompson done gone and sold the whole of Barbados to the Chinese in exchange for a couple schools and some gymnastics lessons." One imagines (and dearly hopes) that nothing quite so sinister is afoot here, and that this broadcast was nothing more than a type of popularity campaign on which the Barbados government has promised to embark in exchange for oodles of Chinese cash. But this doesn't make the whole thing any less irritating. In fact, it probably makes it more so. And here's why:

The following night, as I looked at the little Channel 8 programming list they air before the 7:00 news, I noticed that slotted in at around 8:30 was some show vaguely called "Chinese Culture". So I tuned in to find a programme featuring a very small-voiced, female narrator describing the virtues of Chinese farming practices, healing techniques, gastronomy and who knows what else. It was a naive little crash course in the tourist's China, looked like it was recorded in the 80s, and didn't say much of anything. By the next night, when an identical show appeared in the lineup, I was starting to get simultaneously confused and annoyed. The series struck me as a silly little propaganda campaign (ack! there's that word) meant to convince us that there's nothing wrong with having China foot our capital projects bill (someone doth protest too much) because they're really cool people who know how to shoot guns and do acupuncture. And once I had again convinced myself that the Prime Minister had not in fact sold us off as a new Chinese colony, I began to feel insulted by this ridiculously superficial and misleading 'education campaign'.

First of all: don't try to handle me. (I've always wanted to say that, preferably while sitting across a boardroom table from Bill Gates or Condoleeza Rice, but this will do.) Don't handpick little soundbytes about horticulture and food preparation and sell them to me as a representation of modern-day China. Not only does it obscure far more important aspects of the historical making of the People's Republic of China as a nation and the way its society functions today, but honestly, it's just a weak, lazy attempt at cultural integration. If I were China, I would ask for my money back.

Second, if people truly have concerns about our dependence on development aid from China, they are more likely to do with the country's human rights record: the Chinese government's restrictions on free speech and the media, independent organizing and religious freedom continue apace. Lack of due judicial process operates alongside the torture and ill-treatment of prisoners, and the country's one-child, family planning policy represents more violations of human dignity and reproductive rights than can be discussed here. After Iran and Saudi Arabia, China executes the most people per capita in the word, including for crimes like tax evasion. (Although if you kill your girlfriend, you're straight; especially if you promise to pay for her. You break it, you buy it, dude.)

This is not to say that diplomatic relations have to be severed in order to take an ideological stand against the undesirable parts of a country's system of governance. In fact, it's often more effective to engage than to dissociate. That is, when you're the U.S or UK or any country larger than an area rug. When you're Barbados, you don't roll up into China and say "you know what, we'd love to take your millions but we're concerned about the status of the Uighurs in Tibet, so let's start that dialogue." No. You say "Ooh millions! Thankees!" Because no one cares. You have nothing to offer and no one cares what you have to say. Your two possible courses of action are: take the money/don't take the money. And while there might be room for negotiation on less important points, China is not taking advice from David Thompson on its human rights record.

So the PM takes the money: there are arguments for and against that. This we acknowledge. But don't insult us by launching a media campaign pretending that China is all economic success and beautiful (-ly controlled) weather, and engaging in your own brand of revisionist/selective education. It's maddening. And stupid. Clearly the PM is not going to grab China's money and then run home to engage in long, televised debates about the death penalty or the war in Tibet. But neither should he gloss it all over with mindless little 'culture shows' as if we can't read, or have no international social conscience. It only makes me angry, and want to further question not only the content of any new bilateral agreements with China, but the general foreign policy skill of Barbados's current administration. Which suggests to me that whatever the PM's goal may have been, the whole thing backfired a little.

Serena has a(n expensive) moment

I was just about to post my entry about Melanie Oudin and ask why the small, blonde White tennis player has to be dubbed America's sweetheart when the Williams sisters fit most of the underdog profile ascribed to Oudin, except of course they are decidedly neither small, blonde nor White. So of course they won't be cast as America's anything, not when a non-negligible percentage of America is right now marching in the streets intent on showcasing themselves as the real America - you know, the part that's not brown. I was all set to talk about how the reason it's so easy to paint Oudin as a women's hero and laud her skill as unprecedented is that from the time the Williams sisters began to dominate women's tennis, many commentators didn't even see them as women's tennis heroes, because they hardly saw them as women. They dismissed a major part of their game as the natural result of mass and brawn - that thing Black athletes have naturally, rather than skill, which is what White athletes have. And many even began to tire of their domination on that basis: there go the Williams sisters again, beating all the regular people with their muscles and whatnot. It just isn't right!

(I was also interested in why any woman in sport has to be a sweetheart of any kind, and why we need to minimize women's strength and athleticism in favour of their 'more feminine attributes', as if it's ok that they run around and sweat and get all dirty, because behind it all, they're really little girls, so all is right with the universe.)

And then I saw Serena's outburst in her semi-final match against Kim Clijsters - the one that cost her the match - and I thought "well, this is not great." Because I thought that unfortunately, even though Williams has spent years in the game as an even-tempered sportswoman, gracious in defeat and downright charming in interviews, people are going to say "Well here comes the Compton now. It was only a matter of time." Am I cynical? Definitely. Am I wrong? Probably not. John McEnroe spent most of his career snarling at officials and beating his racquet to dust, and it became something of a joke: "oh that's just John!" But there's much less space for a woman to have an indecorous outburst, and a Black woman? Forget it. As we speak, I'm searching for match footage of spectators diving for cover or calling 911.

All accounts of Serena's conduct - that she threatened "I swear to God I'm [expletive] going to take this ... ball and shove it down your [expletive] throat" - suggest that she was completely out of order. If there were ever a time a player should suffer a point penalty for verbal abuse, I'd say this would be it. She lost her head, she threatened an official, and was rightly punished. It remains to be seen whether further punishment will follow, a possibility which would certainly stimulate argument over whether there's more behind the treatment of this incident than unsportswomanlike conduct, and whether the reaction would be the same if Serena happened to look different and/or didn't enjoy the status she does within the women's game. Serena herself isn't that apologetic, and seems eager to move on. I hope it's that simple, but I won't be surprised if it's not.

'President' with a lower-cas(t)e 'p'

The now famous Joe Wilson outburst of "You lie!" during President Obama's defense of his health care plan in Congress was not at all shocking to me. The tremendous backlash against Obama by White American conservatives still stunned to have a Black man in the White House - the completely uninformed buffoonery and right-wing panic that has characterized opposition to health care reform, to the economic stimulus package, and to the very existence of President Obama - has led directly to this point. Disrespect for the President during the Bush administration, and even after we uncovered all the lies and pretenses surrounding the war in Iraq, was considered unAmerican. But blatant disrespect for the office of President is perfectly acceptable when the one occupying the role is a lot less White than people would prefer.

Obama has been caricatured as Hitler and the Joker; 'birthers', in an almost textbook manifestation of how Black bodies have historically been and continue to be considered the property of a White public, have demanded evidence of his circumcised genitalia; rabid dissenters are taking guns to health care rallies; people are emailing watermelon-strewn White House lawns all up and through; the Republican death panel hide-your-grannies misinformation campaign is still going strong; and we're only now dropping jaws that a highly-paid Congressman would dare to interrupt the President's address to call him a liar? Did we really think that the racist disrespect we've seen to date was originated with and owned by disgruntled voters? And that the ones who lead them would know better?



When Sen. Saxby Chambliss called for the President to 'show some humility' regarding the health care debate, what he really meant was that the uppity Negro should know his place. When 'concerned parents' started wetting their pantaloons over the President's back-to-school address to their children, trying to drown the nation in panic that Obama would work his African voodoo on young minds and indoctrinate them with his Socialist agenda, what they were really responding to was their natural inclination against letting any Black people near their children. Surely you understand their consternation: they've toiled their entire lives to make sure their children are shielded from the Black bogeymen, and what the H - E double hockey sticks do you know...they done gone and let one walk straight into the White House with a direct line to their precious White angels.

So you'll pardon me if I didn't get all gaspy when Wilson yelled at the President of the United States that he is a liar in an open session of Congress - an utterance that was as disrespectful as it was disingenuous, since we know from the text of the Bill itself that Obama's statement regarding lack of public health care coverage for illegal immigrants was correct. And if he had added a 'boy' at the end of his outburst, I probably would have been only slightly more surprised. Because the ilk of Republicans among which Wilson counts himself does not disagree with Obama's policy, but with his Blackness, and with what they think is worse, his confidence and capability in spite of it.

And not only is Wilson's weak, mumbled 'apology' evidence of his lack of remorse, but even considering the admonition from both sides, the support he has received from like-thinking Americans who think he's just 'representing the people' suggests that there is not nearly enough outrage as we'd like to think there should be. Obama himself seemed thoroughly unfazed in the moment, as many of us who have experienced this type of racism tend to become. And the increase in donations to Wilson's Democratic opponent may be seen as a kind of quiet resistance to Wilson's brand of hate. But even as I consider my own response, as well as the President's, I wonder if 'quiet' and 'unfazed' are exactly the characteristics that feed this new, accepted racism that is being packaged as due democratic process, even while it clearly is not. The advantage of the post-racial myth is that it fools us into thinking Wilson part of an outdated minority, even as it gives birth to a revival in racism at the highest level, which - left ignored - will continue to thrive and grow right under our noses.

It's not just about Buju

So we heard this past Sunday that once again, following protests from gay rights advocacy groups, Buju Banton has been banned from performing at scheduled shows, this time in Los Angeles, San Francisco, Philadelphia, Chicago, Las Vegas, Dallas and Houston. Some bloggers are rolling their eyes that people just can't get over a song from 20 years ago and let the man have a career, and even the Jamaica Gleaner is, through their headline, painting him as some kind of tragic figure dogged by past mistakes and hunted by an unrelenting, international activist machine. It's as if we're meant to believe that this is all about one man and one misguided song, rather than an entire reggae industry made rich by anti-gay sentiment, and supported by a large, homophobic population.

There are other questions that might be examined here: the idea of redemption, who deserves it and when, and who gets to offer it; boycotting as a political action, whom we boycott, who we may find it easier to boycott, and who is ultimately affected by these types of decisions. But one thing is impossible to deny: the homophobia in Jamaican music is definite and destructive, and makes a very difficult subject for any exploration of the privilege of Western activism aimed at the developing world. Still, let us onward, and see what we see.

Back in 2005, the UK-based Stop Murder Music coalition entered into a verbal agreement with major record labels and concert promoters representing eight of reggae music's biggest names, including Buju, Beenie Man and Bounty Killer. The agreement saw the suspension of SMM's aggressive campaigns against the artistes and their music - campaigns which had been extremely successful in cancelling tours and TV appearances and withdrawing award nominations from the artistes involved. In return, record companies "pledged not to release or re-release any offensive songs", as well as encourage singers not to perform such songs on stage.

But the artistes themselves were not involved in this decision, and the following year, the truce was abandoned when it was claimed that Buju Banton, Beenie Man and Bounty Killer broke the agreement by repeating homophobic songs and views.

In 2007, Buju Banton, Beenie Man and others attracted considerable praise and media attention when they reportedly signed the Reggae Compassionate Act, renouncing homophobia and condemning violence against lesbians and gay men. But it later emerged that once news of the Act reached their fan base in Jamaica, representatives of the artistes vehemently denied their clients' being signatory to the agreement, and so the cycle continues.

Over the last decade, Buju especially has come to be known more for his uplifting lyrics than for the infamous "Boom Bye Bye" - first recorded in 1988 and re-released in 1992 - that has come to be the exemplar of murder music against which activist groups are fighting. But he performed the song at Memorial Fest in Miami in 2006, a year before signing the Act, but recently enough for those concerned to be skeptical of his professed change of heart. (The last link also contains the song's lyrics, so this is a warning for sexual content, violence and most other forms of general indecency of which you might conceive.)

None of these agreements has ever required an apology for past hateful behaviour, or any kind of public, verbal statements by the artistes reflecting a change of heart, or a commitment to denounce homophobia in their public lives. Sure, they may (or may not, depending on who you talk to) have scrawled a pen across an Act whose clauses were written by a third party, but they are part of a culture and people that considers itself righteous in its homophobia and hate: there is a community that thinks itself the victim of a conspiracy to malign Jamaica and its music, and so they stand proud in a fight to protect their right to be hateful. And much of masculinity in Jamaica and other parts of the Caribbean is predicated on an emphatic, sometimes violent rejection of gay, lesbian, bisexual and transgendered people. The same violence applied to the conquest of women that defines manhood is applied to the suppression and oppression of the gay identity.

When the Prime Minister of a country, in an internationally broadcast interview, asserts that there is 'no room for gays' in political life and refuses to establish legislation recognising gay rights, there is very little incentive for musicians to reject homophobia. In fact, this type of stance by the country's leader acts as a disincentive to any Jamaican from interrogating his/her own homophobia and taking a public stand against it, since such action is likely to be met with ridicule. It would be great to have a popular champion of tolerance, but that is not likely to come in the person of a best-selling reggae artist who, like the PM, must stay popular in order to stay wealthy.



There are, of course, parts of the population who do not accept homophobia as a necessary part of their culture, but one finds it difficult to conceive of a Jamaica where the tolerance of the few eventually extends to the many. This is not likely to happen for many generations, not when homophobia is sanctioned by the State. Jamaican opposition to outside activism makes claims of racism, charging that White gay rights groups are unfairly targeting Black, Caribbean musicians, and seeking to keep their communities in poverty. I'd say it's a little difficult to play the victim when you're advocating the eradication of an entire population, but there is something to the notion that we have to be strategic in our political action. I wrote a little about it here, and clearly immune from accusations of vanity, I'm going to quote myself below:

Amid growing calls in the international activist community to boycott tourism and products that would benefit 'homophobic countries' - on the list of which Jamaica features high - Barbados too has been censured in a recent shadow report "for its criminalisation of same-sex sexual activity and the violation of the rights of lesbian[s], gay[s], bisexual[s] and transgender[ed people] (LGBT)." While I think that the types of boycotts mentioned are often ill-conceived and counter-productive (if you want to change public attitudes towards the LGBT community, maintaining the already poor in poverty is not the way to do it), and based on the absurd notion that for example Jamaica is one homogeneous society thinking and acting as one, I do believe that properly-implemented action by the international community is one of the ways to develop political will among these countries' own governments to effect change from within. Tying development aid or representation on certain international bodies to the proven enforcement of human rights conventions is one place to start, and while it is not the place of the US or any other country to wholly dictate cultural values to another country, it is certainly the place of all of us to expose institutionalized bigotry and hate in countries that claim to promote human freedoms for all.

Do I have a point? Yes! And it is this: the LGBT communities all over the world are within their rights and have my support in preventing those who would attack their identities and their bodies from being given a platform on their doorsteps. We would be naïve to think that this is just about Buju's one song years ago. This was the track that launched his career, and he seems hard pressed to abandon his identification with it. Even so, this isn't about one man or one song. To this day, homophobic lyrics are produced in reggae studios and played in clubs. And if Jamaica is a scapegoat and an easy target, it's certainly a justifiable one. (It's also an unfortunate one, since those who absurdly and incorrectly claim that homophobia is a predominantly Black affliction have good old Jamaica to point to.) Anti-homophobia action has to go beyond bans and boycotts, but we can't expect the targets of hate and bigotry, the ones struggling to feel safe, to be the only ones tasked with eliminating it. It's the rest of us who have to do the work.

Racism and cultural insensitivity: the cornerstones of any carnival

So the Crop Over festival has just come to an end, and we're all in the process of shaking off the carnival vibe and trying to appear like normal human beings again. It was a good season, although I did think for a minute there that we would be doomed to party to the brilliant stylings of the likes of Salt and Stabby all season long. But eventually, the true talent of the festival became manifest, and musically, it turned out to be quite a productive year.

I have to make the obligatory disclaimer here: I like silliness in music too. I'm a Moxy Fruvous fan, after all. And my parents bred in us a healthy appreciation for the Clown Prince part of the calypso competition. Calypso music is not just about cutting, insightful, social commentary and pioneering mixes of steel, drums and brass; it's also about the comedy of clever lyrics, and sometimes just plain tomfoolery in the style of Malik, Cubba and even Contone and Pong at their best. But there's farce and then there's plain, old offensive idiocy. Salt was toneless and unremarkable, but at least brought back in his lyrics a bit of Bajan parlance that people seemed to really respond to: "see me and don't see me" is just one example of the sweet economy and poetry of Bajan English. Infusing the song with an actual melody would have been useful, but I suspect Salt knows his limitations in that regard. Stabby was...well...the man's name is Stabby. Let's not expect too much. I wasn't a fan of the work of these two, but I suppose there's a place for it, although I'd like us to keep that place very, very, very small.

Chow Mein, on the other hand, with his song The Chinese Connection, provided a healthy dose of that offensive idiocy we just mentioned. Here is this young man, dressed as what I assume he envisions a Shaolin master to look like, or at least to have looked like in 1972 when the film the Chinese Connection was made, complete with fake beard and a ridiculously sing-songy and mocking 'Chinese accent'. Now the premise of the song itself, in terms of some of its lyrical content, is not without merit, at least on the surface. He speaks as a Chinese man (the first glaring mistake, yes, but we'll come back to this) and sings of the disdain he encounters from people who stand in contempt of Chinese people. It's not an unfamiliar dynamic here in Barbados, where starting some years ago, we've been seeing significant numbers of Chinese workers mainly in the construction sector, along with quiet - and sometimes not so quiet - anti-immigrant rumblings among those who consider themselves newly disenfranchised as a result of this immigration. So his point is that while some may claim to want nothing to do with the Chinese, we still benefit from a large majority of imported goods from their country.



But his defense of Chinese people is weak and disingenuous, and is in fact only being used to encourage listeners to point and laugh at these outsiders with the strange outfits and funny accents. Were he sincere, he would have focused on some actual issues, or at least done a better job of satirizing the absurd reasons that people ridicule the Chinese. Instead, it is these very absurd reasons on which he relies for his punchline. with lyrics like "I don't eat dog," and "everybody knows that Chinese __ real small". The word that's missing there is penis, or some approximation. Because ridiculing an entire ethnic group based on the comparative size of their genitalia is the stuff of great comedy. The song is completely lacking in irony, which I'm actually hoping it was trying to achieve and simply failed. Irony would have made the bigots - rather than the object of their bigotry - the butt of the joke. Instead, he just comes off as a simpleton making fun of the Chinese, just another version of a black-face minstrel.

And even then, all the irony in the world does not give one leave to get into 'costume' as a Chinese person, because that act itself assumes stereotypes and makes a caricature out of a group of people based on nothing else but ethnicity, and a limited, racist understanding of the people and culture.

The chorus of the song manages to offend on other levels, because its not-really-Chinese hero is now exacting justice for the discrimination against him, with his battle cry being "you...want Chinese in you!" followed by the typical sound of kung-fu blows. So we should respect Chinese people not because they deserve respect and fair treatment, but because if we don't, they'll kick us to death. 'Chinese in you' in this instance seems to refer to a beating. But after the second verse, which talks about being scorned by women because of the size of his penis, the threat of "you...want Chinese in you" takes on another meaning, albeit a familiar one: a woman who rejects a man can expect sexual aggression as his response. A cranky, contrary, uninterested woman can be made agreeable by at least one sure thing: a penis, whether consensually or not.

And perhaps the most horrifying part of the whole fiasco is that the Bajan public has embraced this song with squeals of delight, even obeying Chow Mein's invocation at the start of his live performance to yell 'nyong', which to him means nothing in particular, but probably sounds Chinese enough. I suppose 'nyong' is the racially insensitive man's 'yeah yeah' or 'throw your hands up'. Some of my friends - my otherwise intelligent, socially conscious, culturally sensitive, beautiful friends - have been lost to fandom of this mess, and I must confess that I don't understand it. One of them said to me: "I don't think anyone believes he's really speaking for Chinese people." Well that's hardly the point. We know the man is not an ambassador for actual people from China, but that's the selling point of his joke; that in fact is the problem. He can't speak for Chinese people, because he's not Chinese. And worse, he's revelling in this false representation and using it to reinforce and glorify stereotypes. Others have said: "but it's funny!" To which I can only blink in response, because the act is so decidedly unfunny it makes me drool from boredom, once the incredulity has passed. It's an ill-conceived, poorly-delivered, racist, toneless, not at all clever portrayal, and I think those who find it funny should question the things that amuse them, and what that says about who they are.

Now it occurred to me that Chow Mein might be of Chinese heritage, in some part, and therefore feel justified in this. But really, that would hardly make it better. In fact, it would probably make it quite a sight worse. We have had comedic calypso acts get into character as people from other cultures; there's a way to do it, and this Chinese Connection of which everyone seems so enamoured is clearly not it. It seems we've become so comfortable with our intolerance of the Chinese, Guyanese and people from African nations who live with us that we now consider it something to be celebrated, rather than eradicated, and that realization has, for me, been the saddest part of this crop Over festival.
_______
ETA: A reader pointed out that he might be encouraging people to say 'ni hao', which is 'hello' in Mandarin. I thought that until I saw him live, and realized that (1) it doesn't really sound like 'ni hao'; (2) even if that were the case, no one in his audience understood that it means something; and (3) it still wouldn't make up for all the ching-chonging throughout the rest of the song. But yes, it could be 'ni hao'. In fact, I kinda hope it is.

Digging up Nelson

Back in January, I wrote about a plan that was afoot in Barbados to move the statue of Lord Horatio Nelson from Trafalgar Heroes Parliament Square, and the arguments it engendered on both sides. One such argument was made by local writer Richard Hoad, and my blog entry was in response to an article of his.

A version of that blog entry ran as a guest column in today's Nation newspaper, and while I do appreciate the voice, and further, the blog publicity, the editors fell asleep on the job, attributing Hoad's words to me, and leaving out an entire paragraph that would have contextualized quotes. So, anal as I am, and never content to have people think me stupid or confused (at least through the actions of another; if I'm to appear stupid, I prefer to have had something to do with it), I'm redirecting readers to the original entry. Things should make more sense now, assuming you still care seven months later.

Ah, the crisp smell of fascism in the Italian air

You know what's a completely ingenious, not at all inflammatory, irresponsible idea?

[G]overnment officials said they would go ahead with legislation allowing unarmed citizen patrols to help beef up security in Italian cities and towns. The plan is part of a crackdown by the conservative administration on illegal immigration, which Italians increasingly link to crime.

And we all know what the defence of this lunacy will be, and indeed has been: citizens must qualify according to clear standards; there will be strict guidelines and protocols; this isn't a call to arms for nationalists and racists. Oh. Hang on.

A new vigilante group has been banned from walking the streets because of the similarity between its uniforms and those worn by Mussolini's Fascists in the 1930s.

The Italian National Guard was launched at a news conference over the weekend, sparking outcry from the centre-left opposition, Jewish groups, police unions and others that it evoked Italy's fascist-era paramilitary Black Shirts.

Benito Mussolini's Black Shirts violently attacked communists, socialists and other progressive groups, breaking up strikes and attacking trade union headquarters. Their 1922 march on Rome brought the fascist dictator to power.

[...]

The guard was introduced by the right-wing fringe Italian Social Movement at a Milan party conference during which at least two speakers gave the straight-armed Fascist salute.

[...]

Leaders of the Italian Social Movement said the guard's creation was made possible by the bill [yes, that bill], which must still to be approved by the Senate, leading the center-left opposition to say the case highlighted the danger posed by the plan.

See? It's a perfectly reasonable bill. Nothing at all happening here.

The Daily Mail: here to protect you from evil, burkha-wearing, train fare avoiders

Well I suppose I have to admit it now. I sometimes read the alarming mess that is the Daily Mail. And most of the time I manage to ignore the copious amounts of racist, misogynist and almost any other -ist of which you could conceive garbage that issues forth on its pages, in part because I'm used to it; because sometimes there are actually thoughtfully-written pieces among the drivel; and because I often think that half these stories are written by random, bored people having a laugh on their lunch break. Clearly, one such person is Allison Pearson, if that's even her real name.

Ms. Pearson presents the not unfamiliar anti-immigrant condemnation of people who dare to bring their religious and cultural heritage with them when they migrate to the UK. Except she spices things up a bit by calling her particular brand of intolerance - I speak not in jest - 'Burkha Rage'. The capitalization is hers: she clearly thinks this nomenclature and the sentiment behind it not only acceptable and valid, but worthy of conversion into a proper noun. The woman means business.

On a train to London, a young woman wearing a burkha, with only her heavily made-up eyes peeping out, did not have a valid ticket.

Challenged by the guard, the young woman gave a litany of excuses. She had left her bag at her boyfriend's, he had bought the ticket, she had no money on her...

My friend Jane, who was in the same carriage, noticed how the guard became nervous as the Muslim girl presented herself as an innocent in a society she didn't understand.

Instead of issuing a penalty fine, the guard backed off, shrugging his helplessness at the other passengers.

So imagine my friend's surprise when she got off at the same station as burkha girl and saw this 'penniless innocent' whip out a credit card from under the folds of her dress with which she promptly bought a Tube ticket.

Jane was so incensed she sent me a text message, explaining what she'd witnessed. It ended: 'Attack of Burkha Rage. Grrr.'

Notice the attempt to call into question the woman's true religious conviction by mentioning that her eyes were heavily made up. She's only pretending to be Muslim, you see, because behold how she adorns herself with all manner of worldly varnish. It's clearly an elaborate ruse to avoid the train fare.

And notice how the decision of the guard not to continue challenging her on the fare is somehow mysteriously related to the fact that she's wearing a burkha, and therefore her fault. She knew what she was doing when she wore that thing! She "presented herself as an innocent in a society she didn't understand"! It's nothing at all like American tourists in their snow white trainers and baseball caps, brandishing maps the size of Cleveland, who inspire the sympathy of guards that at their discretion, might decide that they indeed sound confused, and let them off with a warning. They knew what they were doing when they wore those Dockers!

But in fact, it really is nothing like that, because in the latter case, the tourists are pleading innocence and ignorance. That is their express claim, borne of who they are: strangers in a foreign land. This woman, from Pearson's own account, made no such claim, unless simply wearing a burkha qualifies as attempting to hoodwink the authorities. Pearson certainly thinks so. The woman did not say "Islam does not allow me to buy train tickets", or "I spent all my money on this here burkha" or even "I've only been here a few days. I don't understand," which incidentally, if she had, may be deemed a perfectly understandable excuse. She gave your run-of-the-mill excuses that I've heard time and again from people who are demonstrably White and Western. She may have been lying, or nervous, or involved in a dastardly plot to steal 3 quid from TFL, but whatever she was, by the writer's own telling, it had nothing at all to do with her burkha.

Pearson not only goes on to disrespectfully refer to the subject of her rage as 'burkha girl', but she further outlines the role of the burkha in this thievery and affront to British pride. The woman, after having the misfortune of alighting at the same station as Jane, withdrew into the folds of her dress - this strange dress is a place where evil acts abound - to produce a credit card. So what did she buy, after having "presented herself" as penniless? A caramel latte? A Radley bag? A ticket to the opera? The evil, opportunistic 'burkha girl' bought a Tube ticket. Even as the plot thickens, it is never as thick as the writer and her idiot friend Jane, who seem not to allow for the possibility that this woman may have forgotten to buy a ticket at the start of her journey, and was simply taking this chance to make restitution.

Lies! This woman is just one of a small but menacing (at least sufficiently so to inspire their own syndrome complete with capital letters) minority of Muslims who come to the UK and refuse to assimilate, who hide behind religion in order to avoid train fares. She's just like that woman who sued her employer for suggesting she wear an immodest dress at work (we all know Muslims are by far the most litigious group anywhere. It's science); or the Sainsbury's employees who refused to sell alcohol. But the White or Black or Asian doctors and chemists who refuse to dispense emergency contraception or birth control pills or whatever else because of their own beliefs? Well, they don't wear burkhas, silly. And alcohol is considerably more important than preventing an unwanted pregnancy.

And Pearson, like a true, card-carrying bigot, does not neglect to recite the Bigots' Anthem. (See? I can randomly capitalize too.) The "But I'm not (or in this case Jane is not) a racist!" anthem complete with a "some of my best friends are burkha people!" refrain:

Jane is not a BNP voter. She is a university lecturer who specialises in the developing world.

I confess. I laughed at the irony of the BNP reference. Because Jane, if not already a BNP sympathizer, can I'm sure now expect a knock on her door from her local White supremacist candidate for government. She is the perfect sketch of their type of voter. At least she would be the perfect sketch, if she weren't unfortunately real. But perhaps I'm being unfair to Jane. She is, after all, a university lecturer who specialises in the developing world. She not only loves you poor, burkha-wearing people, she's an expert on you. Therefore, she is free to be an intolerant turd. It's a perk of the job, just like the free photocopying.

I have to say that if this is the face of a lecturer meant to understand developing nations and their people, anyone in her classes should get their money back. Or the BNP is going to have more than a couple seats in parliament to look forward to in a few years.

Friday language lessons

MP Mike Gapes is on the news objecting to the fact that Bermuda has agreed to accept and resettle four Chinese Uighurs who, though having been cleared of any charges of terrorism, have been held at Guantánamo Bay for the last 7 years. In the short interview, Gapes is adamant that Bermuda does not have the autonomy to make such arrangements independently of The UK Foreign Office, because it is a British colony, and though in general it operates more independently than its other colonies, remains the property of the UK.

Apparently, no one told Mike that we no longer use the word 'colony', but rather say 'British overseas territory', because colonialism, even though it clearly persists, is now generally frowned upon, what with the centuries of slavery, torture and subjugation that have been involved. 'British overseas territory' is of course fooling no one. But at least it isn't the giant "yeah we don't care that we enslaved you people and still own the lands we dragged you to to work and we killed other people to steal" that 'colony' is.

Just giving you a heads up there, Mike.

"I don't like this evidence. It doesn't support my hate and disgust."

If you're wondering about the kind of thinking that could have led voters to elect the White supremacist, hatemongering BNP to two seats on the European Parliament, new research by the British Red Cross may have some insights, (although, as Sunny Hundal points out in the Guardian, "The BNP is not increasing its votes. In both Yorkshire and the north-west, its total number of votes fell from 2004. This absolutely does not mean that more people are being seduced by the BNP's propaganda. It means that Labour's share of the vote collapsed and went to other parties, thereby helping the BNP under a proportional system.") Still, in news that is not at all surprising to us here at the Chronicles - and by 'us' I mean 'me' - The Independent reports that:

Attitudes to asylum-seekers in Britain are being skewed by gross over-estimation of the numbers of refugees reaching the United Kingdom and prejudice towards immigrants among young people, the British Red Cross says today.

Nearly a quarter of people believe there are more than 100,000 asylum applications every year – about four times the annual figure of 25,670, and just 5 per cent of Britons know to within 10,000 how many refugees come to the UK every year.

The entire article is worth a read. It outlines how we are all essentially completely wrong about the numbers, education levels, magnitude of the role of the UK and pretty much everything else concerning immigrants seeking asylum here that has informed widely-held prejudices against them. But the real gems are to be found in the Comments section, if you can stomach it, in which several of the commenters poo poo the data and carry on with their "Up with the BNP!" message. The rest of Sunny Hundal's article, linked above, tries to highlight a silver lining in the BNP's rise to MEP status, but with people's eagerness to prioritize their own fear and prejudice over actual evidence, coupled with the fact that Labour could barely string together a decent response to the immigration hysteria when the party was fairly intact, let alone now that it is in shambles, I may need a healthy dose of whatever Hundal's having to keep my optimism alive.

Not so amazing

This is a Kwik-Fit ad that runs on UK TV, although I don't recall seeing the subtitles as we do here.



I suppose what we're meant to be amazed by is that this Black employee might speak Chinese. Even though Kwik-Fit would argue that they're simply representing the surprising scope of their services, offered through all employees, substitute a White man and the whole thing would seem a whole lot less amazing, right? Or are we to believe the actor they chose is a coincidence?

Some notes on the BNP or Look what you made me do!

The sky, moon, stars, a couple pianos and some anvils are falling over at Downing Street. A day before local and European elections, and amidst the colossal and ridiculous MPs' expenses scandal that has taken Hazel Blears as its latest casualty, rogue Labour MPs are seeking to unseat Gordon Brown, and I am about to do something I never expected to do here in this blog: expend even a few words on the BNP.

This article in yesterday's Guardian describes how voter discontent arising from the wanton abuse by MPs of taxpayer-funded expense claims has breathed new life into the nationalist, fascist, racist, xenophobic, misogynist and all-around hateful British National Party - enough life, at least, that it might gain ground in council elections, and even achieve its first European parliamentary representation.

Griffin himself [Nick Griffin, the party's chairman] may be a former National Front member with a conviction for inciting racial hatred, and the veneer of respectability on the party's candidates may be transparently thin, but however noxious or downright laughable the views they and their party associates hold, the truth is that the BNP is the fastest growing political party in modern Britain. Its support has risen sharply in successive elections since 1987, and it already has more than 50 local councillors, as well as Barnbrook's London assembly seat. A study co-authored by Matthew Goodwin, a research fellow at Manchester University who has focused on extreme right political parties, found that BNP's vote at the last European elections, in 2004, was an eightfold increase on 1999 and the largest vote for an ultra-right party in a British election.

Now this is a party one of whose London Assembly candidates Nick Eriksen was withdrawn last year after having been discovered to have written the following on a blog:

"Rape is simply sex. Women enjoy sex, so rape cannot be such a terrible ordeal.

"To suggest that rape, when conducted without violence, is a serious crime is like suggesting that force-feeding a woman chocolate cake is a heinous offence.

"A woman would be more inconvenienced by having her handbag snatched."

This is a party represented in the European Elections by Eddy O'Sullivan, a Salford-based BNP candidate who set his Facebook status to read "Wogs go home", and also wrote:

"They are nice people - oh yeah - but can they not be nice people in the fucking Congo or... bongo land or whatever?" O'Sullivan, who also joined an internet group called "Fuck Islam", denied that the comments were racist and insisted they were made in private conversations between individuals. "I also may have had a drink at the time," he added.

This Guardian article lists several other examples of the party's unapologetic racism. Yet, it seems to be gaining in popularity, and while this may be fuelled by the expenses scandal in the midst of people's recession anxiety, I wonder whether the alleged growing numbers of BNP sympathizers do not share their ideology anyway, but now have more of an excuse to openly show this support, hiding behind the fact of MPs misconduct in order to align themselves where they would really prefer.

Following BNP member Richard Barnbrook on his canvassing rounds in Hornchurch, the Guardian writer notes (emphasis mine):

Three workmen have stopped for a cigarette outside a house in Stanley Road, and are happy to be coaxed into a conversation about immigration by Barnbrook, who is sporting a red, white and blue BNP rosette, a gold party pin and a frankly alarming sand-coloured suit. "All the boys where I am are voting BNP," one of them says. "My mate lives in Chafford," offers his colleague, "and there's 10 Nigerians in the house next to him. Ten! And they are taking all the work. I have had enough."

Ten! They don't even have the decency to spread themselves out or come at the rate of one a year! Now this is blatant anti-immigrant sentiment, and while it might be exacerbated by tough economic times, this kind of intolerance doesn't simply materialize in the minds of otherwise tolerant individuals. Still, even though people who want to persist in their racist hate and ignorance will find a way to do this, Gordon Brown himself and his Labour government, and in fact politicians from all parties, also have themselves to blame if they are losing ground to the BNP. It is Brown's own incendiary "British jobs for British workers" slogan that has been appropriated by the BNP in order to advance its agenda of ridding the country of all 'non-indigenous people', i.e. of creating a White British nation through its 'immigration policy'. And when people see Brown's own slogan being used - to be fair in the right context - by an absurd far right party trying its best to appear mainstream, well, that certainly helps it appear mainstream. After all, it's Brown's slogan and he's currently in power.

The BNP has not become extinct, as it should have by now, because rather than have an open, transparent dialogue on immigration and racism, the mainstream parties have all carried on skipping nervously around the issue, being confronted more and more with blatant and growing intolerance in British communities, but preferring instead to behave as if it doesn't exist. Meanwhile, the media continues to paint immigration as one of the four horsemen of the apocalypse, to sensationalize it by having gulping, wide-eyed anchors fling about uncontextualized statistics and interview politicians who have no clue, no plan and worst of all, no message, and we wonder why this kind of hate is allowed to thrive.

And I feel compelled to remind people not to be fooled by the notion that the BNP represents British interests. The BNP represents the interests of what they call indigenous British people - yes, that means White. From their website:

On current demographic trends, we, the native British people, will be an ethnic minority in our own country within sixty years.

To ensure that this does not happen, and that the British people retain their homeland and identity, we call for an immediate halt to all further immigration, the immediate deportation of criminal and illegal immigrants, and the introduction of a system of voluntary resettlement whereby those immigrants who are legally here will be afforded the opportunity to return to their lands of ethnic origin assisted by a generous financial incentives both for individuals and for the countries in question.

Now since 'British' is not an ethnicity, clearly what they're trying to say is that White people can stay, and everyone else should just go home. I find this important to point out to people like my friend of mixed race who, in conversation the other day, mentioned that 'some of the immigration policies of the BNP are useful'. This was in response to some frustration felt by her and some of her friends that policies meant to offer support to British people were being utilized disproportionately by non-nationals. And I understand that frustration; it indicates a system that might be improved upon, surely. But supporting the BNP, a party that if they had their way would see her shipped off with the rest of the half-breeds, is certainly not the way to go. It's important not to be fooled by these people's weak, transparent attempts to appropriate the votes of the very minorities they stand in active warfare against. This kind of hate does not pack up and go away on its own. It only becomes irrelevant when we, as a nation wholly affected and with unafraid leaders, take a stand to show that we have no use for it.

Trafalgar Heroes Parliament Square...wait...what was I saying?

Will somebody tell me what in rainbow tarnation is going on in Barbados? In response to the sustained controversy regarding whether the statue of Lord Nelson should be relocated or remain in Heroes Square, Minister of Community Development and Culture Steve Blackett has taken the genius decision that:

[T]he much-debated Nelson Statute will not be physically moved, but it will be repositioned in the design to be part of The City called The Cage, which will be between Parliament Square "and somewhat closer to what has been recently renamed the Slave Gate".

Pardon? So not only is the statue of the anti-abolitionist going to remain, but now we're naming places in the capital city The Cage and Slave Gate? We should just rename Spry Street The Middle Passage and complete the 21st century oppression experience. I'm a proponent of acknowledging our history of slavery, but there could be no clearer example of how not to do it than this jaw-dropping mess right here.

And in more turned around, inside-out confusion, what was once Trafalgar Square and was renamed Heroes' Square will now be called Parliament Square.

[W]hat will be happening is that Heroes Square would become Heroes Park and it will be a distinct and different location.

"We are looking at an area outside of Bridgetown which I will not reveal at this time but I can say it is a large, well-appointed place.

No. What will be happening is that no one will ever go to or care about Heroes Park, which will no doubt be on the fringes of some gully that's not even on a bus route. Because we don't need to be reminded who our national heroes are, but we do apparently need to be reminded where the Parliament buildings are, even as we pass right by them.

And Blackett also offered this brilliant analogy:

"This is purely because I am not one for tinkering with history but some of the anti-Nelson people have been asking for the removal of Nelson from there.

"But 100 years from now, if we are to set a dangerous precedent like that, the generation of that era might call for the removal of Errol Barrow from Independence Square, Sir Frank Walcott from his place at the front of the National Insurance Building, or any of the other statues that are placed around Barbados," he said.

Really, you're comparing the relevance of a man nicknamed the Father of Independence with that of a white, 19th century British admiral? I suppose a statue is a statue, and Blackett is protecting the rights and sensibilities of all statues across the island. I imagine that's easier than protecting the sensibilities of its actual, live people.

And where is the money coming from for this renaming, relocating extravaganza? The budget address is this coming Monday. I'm going to need a number on this one, Steve. I'm going to need a really convincing justification for how the government, in the midst of a global recession with the accompanying job losses and decline in development aid, can manage to get their feng shui on all over the place.