Art & Media

Centering Black woman + femme critics and creators — [email protected]

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Declaratives, #1: I am free failing

Declaratives is a new BlacQurl reflection series on “well-being” as a world-making process. The series features short entries by Black women who (re)member themselves and one another.

Read “I am free failing” by Candace P.

Writing this now. Sharing this here because I promised myself that I would. A resolution to write and not hide from the beautiful vulnerability of my thoughts. I’m trying to push through this moat I've built around myself in the past few years, I want to lower the bridge into the possibilities of a post pain, a post-pain Candace. I know she exists. 

Writing this presently to remind myself that vulnerability can be positive, that the waters won't always be dark and murky.

2016 was a shit show. Mostly a private excruciating shit show, but a shit show nonetheless. 2016 was the year I taught myself to hide and cower. 2016 was the year I embraced the guilt and shame of depression, after railing against its stigma in years before. 2016 was the year of chaos, confusion and an over abundance of white noise. Am I really coming or going? 2016 was the year I knew I would surely die. Three different times, three different months, I found myself in places that seemed inescapable. I found myself bombarded and drowning in suicidal ideations, grief, and emptiness. 2016 was the year I tried the most and failed the hardest. 2016 was irony embodied. 2016 was a year of silent tears and many sleepless nights. 2016 was the year I "took time for myself" and realized what great bullshit that cliche could be. 2016 was the year of journeying to "finding oneself" and arriving at oneself with an owner's manual written in French for an English machine.

This year I was honest about my mental health with my university and was then subsequently gaslit because of it. 2016 was the year I struggled to hold on to anything good, but the bad things seemed to call out to me. 

2016 has come and gone. I have come and gone with it. 

I tried to recover parts of myself I never lost. I found that skinfolk weren’t kinfolk. Or at least weren’t acting like it. 2016 was the year of realizing relatives aren't all family. 

2016 became the year of sisterhood as salvation. I was reminded to breathe, by those willing to share their breaths with me.

2016 was a shit show, and I'm here; and I have to believe that is something amazing. 

Candace is a forever student & proud southern black girl, loving Outkast, Harry Potter, and therapy. INFJ.

To submit your own declarative, send us a note - BQ.

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This Hair of Mine

A film by Jamaican-born, London-based hair stylist, Cyndia Harvey.

(H/T Saint Heron)

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Dawn Okoro, Free, oil & acrylic on canvas

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First order of business.

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Call for Proposals: “Lemonade: Black Womanhood, Identity, Sexuality”

Call for Proposals for Special Guest Edited Issue of Taboo: The Journal of Culture & Education - "Lemonade: Black Womanhood, Identity & Sexuality"

"We invite contributions to this special invitation issue of Taboo that will interrogate the various messages embedded in Beyonce’s new visual album, Lemonade. For this special edition, we are seeking theoretical, conceptual, research, and/or practical issues specifically related to the social construction of Black womanhood, identity, and sexuality in media. With the growth of social media, images and sounds of Black women and girls are more widely circulated, interpreted, and critiqued by cultural critics, laypersons and academicians alike. With the call to give more attention to the need for critical media literacy (Kellner & Share, 2006; Alvermann & Hagood, 2000), there is an urgent need to include discussions of Black women’s everyday lived realities and messages into these conversations. Collectively, critical race and feminist scholars are reimagining and theorizing the role of popular culture in co-constructing girls’ and women’s lives within the popular imagination. For this special issue call, we are interested in articles that address audiences’ reaction to the Lemonade album and various discussions centered on Beyonce and feminism (e.g. bell hooks public response). Interdisciplinary/transdisciplinary frameworks are especially welcomed. All submissions are APA citation style."

Guest Editors: Dr. Venus Evans-Winters & Dr. Jennifer Esposito 

"This special issue invites articles that critically explore, but are not limited to, the following themes:

Intersectionality and critical media literacy Performances of feminism Critical media literacy in educational and political reform The influence of popular culture on the identities of Black girls and young women The role of popular culture in shaping society’s perceptions of Black girls and women Culture and knowledge formation Black womanhood and political identity Black girlhood and cultural identity Teaching and learning in the age of hypermedia Black sexuality in the age of hypermedia and social media Social movements like Black Lives Matters/Black Girls Matter and media Cultural Studies, Ethnic Studies, and Women and Gender Studies Critical theories and frameworks in the analysis of media Submission and Timeline"

"Submit your full-length manuscript by September 30, 2016. All correspondence, inquiries, and manuscripts should be emailed to Dr. Venus Evans-Winters ([email protected]), Dr. Jennifer Esposito ([email protected]), and the editors of Taboo ([email protected]). The subject line of your email should read Lemonade: Black Womanhood, Identity & Sexuality"

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“Don’t Think Twice”: A Dance of Black Exceptionalism & White Mediocrity

by Jovonna J.

****SPOILERS****

(Note: There’s a lot that should be said about the white, heterosexist, gendered, ableist lens on the movie, requiring a thorough intersectional critique. For this convo, I’m focusing specifically on race as it operates in the film’s plot.)

Don’t Think Twice is that indie comedy-drama about a New York improv troupe featuring Key of Key & Peele, formerly known to me as the dude from Mad TV. I saw a preview for this film a few months ago and it looked quite funny & beige, reminding me of “Park Bench” exercises, second-hand embarrassment, and the small joys of a successfully executed punchline. Written/directed by/starring Mike Birbiglia, Don’t Think Twice is 2016’s comedy gem, offering fresh humor through an unglamorous take on the costs of creative goals and partnership. Since its debut at South by Southwest back in March and its official release in July, the film has gone on to earn very solid ratings and reviews from Rotten Tomatoes (99%), The New York Times, The Atlantic, Indiewire, and Questlove. Lol.

Critics describe Don’t Think Twice as “inspiring,” “surprisingly emotional,” “soulful,” “hilarious,” “unexpectedly moving,” “sublime,” and “alternately hysterical and heartbreaking.” These reviews aren’t entirely false. The movie was pretty great. I enjoyed it. But, all of these critics ignore what they usually ignore unless the movie is explicitly about non-white people: 

R-A-C-E.

Here’s a synopsis of the film according to its website:

“For eleven years, an improv group called The Commune has reigned as the big fish in the small pond of their New York improve theater. Commune Members Miles, Samantha, Jack, Allison, Bill and Lindsay invent comedy without a script and without a net. They’re ingenious, they’re fast, and they build on each others’ ideas like best friends – which they also are. […] They get news that their theater is shutting down, and scouts from a hit TV show come to a performance looking for talent. Only two cast members get the nod, upsetting the dynamic of the group and leaving its future in doubt. Relationships begin to crack as six best friends face the truth that not all of them will make it [.]”

Let’s make one thing clear right off the bat: two cast members are asked to audition for the hit SNL-esque TV show, but only one of them pursues the audition and makes it onto the cast. That one is Jack (Keegan Michael Key), the sole black major character. In fact, the film’s entire conflict arc rests on and against Jack as the Only and Exceptional Black Guy. 

Let’s break this down through three key scenes:

The first moment of pause occurs when The Commune gathers on a couch to watch Weekend Live (a.k.a SNL), the hit TV show they all love and hate. Miles, the oldest troupe member, once auditioned for Weekend Live and didn’t make the cut. As a form of motivation and low-key self-righteousness, the group gathers to both critique Weekend Live and dream of participating in it. During the show’s opening credits, the group jokes about the racially homogenous cast, remarking that there’s only like, one black person there.

The subtle humor, of course, is that The Commune itself is a mostly white group with one black man. This deployment of race as a point of humor and satire falls short in that the movie never actually takes up this problem of homogeneity. It reinscribes it and makes it even more insidious. Jack is the only black man in the troupe, and in the remainder of the film, his success becomes the trigger for the movie’s primary conflicts of competition, envy, and self-esteem.

My second moment of concern happens at the end of the troupe’s pre-show rituals. While hyping each other up before taking the stage, they learn that Weekend Live’s TV scouts will be in the audience. A couple of the members remark to Jack, “Don’t do that thing you always do,” where Jack will steal the show with one of his perfect impressions or numerous entries into a scene. Now, Jack isn’t really aware that he does this. But when the moment presents itself, he enters a sketch with a character that just happens to require one of his best impressions. While Jack aims to capture the scouts’ attention, his troupemates cast knowing glances at each other and shrink into the stage’s rear. Jack pulls his troupemate/girlfriend Sam (played by Gillian Jacobs) out of her annoyed trance and brings her into the scene. The others join back in. During post-show drinks, his troupemates call him out on the impression, and he apologizes. Suddenly, the energy and exuberance crucial to Jack’s characterization in the film thus far becomes a point of contention.

Apparently, Jack is the group diva, but his troupemates’ criticism appears to be all love and gest. That is, until Jack receives a Weekend Live audition and is invited to join the cast. Sam, too, receives an audition. But she backs out at the last minute, hinting at her own her nervousness and uncertainty about her improv career. In contrast to Sam, anything Jack expresses in the remainder of the film requires a second thought—is he the same Jack we always knew or is he now an asshole, letting new stardom get to his head?

Granted, there are a couple of times where Jack makes commentary that requires a side-eye: he definitely mentioned his audition for Weekend Live right after their troupemate Bill announced his father’s motorcycle accident. Bad form, friend.

Jack isn’t the only one who makes shitty comments throughout the film, though. A witty comedy relies on dry, borderline tasteless humor. Yet, for a film of this nature, the protagonists must maintain narrative texture beyond the punchline. Jack doesn’t maintain this complexity. Jack’s complexity is the punchline, is the trigger for the other characters’ unfolding. His characterization is flattened as “the only one who made it big,” causing his peers to question, “why not us?” 

By the middle of the film, I realized that Jack doesn’t even have as much of a story as the other characters. Here’s a quick breakdown:

Bill: short white dude who works a part-time job as a sample-server in a grocery store; his father is proud of him but also kinda not.

Lindsay: wealthy white girl who tends to be the voice of reason in the group; trying to negotiate her class privilege with the romanticized struggle of hardcore improv life.

Allison: quirky white girl who is an amazing cartoonist; has been working on a graphic novel for years that she still hasn’t finished.

Sam: goofy white girl who’s not really sure how her passion for improv will manifest past The Commune; the improv group was the best thing to happen to her; starts crafting a passion for teaching

Miles: older white guy who teaches improv on the side and is still bitter about being rejected from Weekend Live; trying to figure out what to do with his life if and when The Commune phases out.

Jack: vibrant black guy who is very committed to comedy as a lasting career; the only one to make it to Weekend Live; doesn’t want to leave his friends behind.

Looking over my crude character summary, I’m noticing that there’s no character context and storyline for Jack other than the primary arc of the film. Jack’s character formation sparks and aligns with the film’s driving conflict. How does it feel to be a problem, right? Why create the only black major character in the film to be both protagonist and antagonist? He reassures his troupemates’ worthiness while simultaneously questioned for his own. Further, where’s Jack’s sub-story? No sob-story? We don’t know anything else about Jack other than his relationship with Sam and his career aspirations, which end up being a problem for everyone else anyway. And once Sam breaks up with him towards the end to follow a different improv path, well, there goes that texture.

There was certainly a point at which Jack’s story could’ve been teased out. When he begins working on Weekend Live, he struggles a bit to adjust to the show’s particular form of comedy production. Nevertheless, most of our attention is directed toward Jack’s efforts to put in a good word for his friends. Allison and Bill have started a writing team to pitch to Weekend Live and Miles wants to submit a pitch of his own (after Allison and Bill politely exclude him). Miles later accuses Jack of being a jerk for supporting all of his friends’ scripts for consideration rather than just Miles’s (#ByeAbby). The only other time we revisit Jack’s struggle with the show is when we see him use some of The Commune’s old material for a Weekend Live sketch. Rather than center Jack and his challenges moving from indie to primetime, the sketch becomes evidence of his betrayal. It was only during a heated conversation between Lindsay and Miles—after Lindsay randomly scores the writing job at Weekend Live—that anyone in the film verbalizes the hard truth: Jack didn’t leave them behind after all! It’s just that some folks “have it” and others don’t. Rather than project insecurities on Jack and assume he took something away from them, what does it look like for the characters to focus on being great themselves?

Jack can’t be the one to say this and have it go over well. He is both the antagonist and savior, negotiating a guilt that isn’t his to have in the first place. As the only black man in his improv troupe achieving a coveted role, we see that his achievements can only be appreciated if his friends can benefit in some way. In fact, he is only his achievements—will he use them for “bad” or for “good”? Jack embodies the threat of a Rare Black Genius while providing the assurance of a Magical Negro. Unfortunately, the film never resolves Jack’s archetypical binary. He is no more and no less.

The final, crucial moment of contention arrives at the very end of Don’t Think Twice during a tender scene on enduring friendship and hopeful future. The group reunites to support Bill at his father’s funeral. After the service, Bill requests to bring his friends to a local childhood theater after Jack’s taxi picks him up for the airport to head back to NYC, an announcement that makes Jack visibly uncomfortable given the circumstances. Remember, he was never actually the asshole his peers made him out to be; he never stopped caring for his friends and feels weird leaving early. When the taxi pulls up, he turns around and says to the group that he wants to stay longer and visit the theater with them. Graciously, they all encourage him to get into the taxi and go to work. This feels to be a moment of reconciliation and understanding; they’ll send him off with a blessing instead of holding his job against him. So Jack hesitates, then proceeds to the airport. The group heads to the venue, and Bill shares with them his plans to turn the place into an improv theater, just like The Commune’s. Joining together in the middle of the stage, the crew links together for a hearty embrace. Of course, sans Jack. Fin.

We’re left with the message that true friendship and creative collaboration can and will endure some trying times. With this resolution in mind, we can’t NOT take into account Jack’s absence. If Jack had stayed and accompanied his friends to the theater, present for that embrace, would that have changed the movie all that much? Not really. So why couldn’t Jack be present in that final embrace? 

Jack’s absence in the end scene serves a very specific purpose in the film: celebrity and talent might afford you success but not a community of folks who’ll embrace you when things get tough. The lesson? Choose the group over the goal. Jack didn’t see these facets of his life as mutually exclusive. Yet still, he exists as the foil for the film’s entire moral arc.

Listen, I wanted to like Don’t Think Twice so badly. The film is certainly funny and I do appreciate the attention to improv as a rich space in the industry at large. Nevertheless, I simply don’t condone films whose storylines and moral arcs unfold at the expense of marginalized characters. And no, Jack isn’t a contentious character who “just happens to be Black.” His race is fundamentally linked to the ways in which we visualize and contextualize his role in the film. He is the only black person in The Commune, the only one to make it onto Weekend Live, and thus, the only one accused of betraying the group, and the only one who didn’t stay with his friends at the very end of the film. 

We shouldn’t condone films whose storylines and moral arcs unfold at the expense of marginalized characters. 

Unfortunately, Don’t Think Twice is another one of those films.

There’s a bunch of problematic comments and absences at work in this film, most of which I’m used to experiencing in witty comedic films of this age. Given the persistence of such narrative irresponsibility, we cannot adequately consider this newly acclaimed film without understanding how race functions in the story.

And once I realized this, the movie didn’t even seem all that great anymore. The film could’ve offered commentary on development by delving deeper into why the house theater shut down in the first place; or, it could’ve stretched the convo about improv and identities a little further. Jack could’ve had an actual storyline and Ben Stiller and Lena Dunham could’ve just not been apart of this at all. So many possibilities! Yet, all in all, Don’t Think Twice is a meditation on white mediocrity. No more, no less.

But hey, huge shout-out to the all the women of color relegated to the peripheries of this film. I see you.

(All photos courtesy of a good ol’ google search)

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The Evolution of the Head Tie in a Photo Essay by Juliana Kasuma (From TheSoleAdventurer.com)

“British-Nigerian photographer, Juliana Kasumu’s recent body of work, From Moussor to Tignon: The Evolution of the Head-tie, traces the origin of the phenomenon that is the woman’s headwrap, presenting influential connections between Creoles of colour in New Orleans and Signares in Senegal, West Africa as iconic leaders of the headwrap movement. Through this project, Kasumu expands on her cultural investigations from behind the lens.” - 

Read More

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Film-In-Progress: Call for Photos/Footage of Lil’ Black Girls @ Play

* Submission Deadline: September 30th *

Little Sallie Walker is a feature-length documentary film that tells the story of how black women played as children. 

The team is seeking contributions of childhood/teenage pictures and/or video, which show black girls playing or just active from any time period are needed for Little Sallie Walker. The family photos and footage can show Black girls alone and/or with others anywhere in the world. All high resolution pictures and/or video clips can be sent to the email address for the film: [email protected]. If you know of any black women who would be willing to participate do not hesitate to forward this email to them. 

Please include with all submissions the contributor's full name, email address, and time period of photo. All contributors, whose photos are used, will receive a film credit for Little Sallie Walker.

More About the Film: 

Little Sallie Walker is a captivating return to childhood. A diverse group of black women, many of whom are sharing their stories for the first time, reveal with vulnerability how they have lived with play. They came of age during the birth and height of World War II, Civil Rights, and Hip Hop. They dared to create worlds where their imaginations soared.

While the title of the film is inspired by the classic circle game, the women of Little Sallie Walker, now all living in different regions of the US, admit they were not bound by one type of play. The circle games, the hand games, the dress up, the somersaulting, the dolls, the skating, the infinite imagining through play, evoke memories of both pleasure and pain and shape how these women view American society and their positions within it.

(All information courtesy of the film’s website / call for submissions)

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It’s Our Birthday!

“BlacQurl.com launched on 09.01.2015, and we've been evolving ever since. We appreciate you, our subscribers, for riding with us. BlacQurl truly reflects how we engage art and media for work, play, and freedom.”

Read the rest of our bday newsletter here 

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On Queue 🎶 TeaMarrr, Kamaiyah, Young M.A

by Jovonna J. & Sammie S.

Boston-area artist TeaMarrr just released her second single, “I Do...But.” Bouncy & electric, this track closes out summer fling season with a few cuffing precautions: 

“Your roses really smell like doo doo / I’m never masturbating to you.” 

Produced by Fancybeats x Rilla Force, “I Do...But” is a blunt, kinda hilarious ode to relationship uncertainty. Listen Here. 

So I’m wondering why, at the tail-end of summer, I’m JUST NOW hearing “Mo Money Mo Problems” by Kamaiyah. I don’t even have much to say. This ish just rides. Listen here, and watch Kamaiyah’s short doc for her debut album, A Good Night in the Ghetto: 

What drew me to Young M.A.’s “OOOUUU” is the familiarity: it sounds like home to a girl who discovered rap and hip-hop via 50 Cent, Krush Groove and New York radio. Though Young M.A participates in contemporary hip hop and youth culture (think dad hats and dabbing) the 24-year-old rapper can still be described as classic BK.

Raised and recognized as one of the boys, (sometimes toxic) masculinity is reflected in the lines she delivers. Quips like, “Pussy I'm a bully and a boss/I'm killing them, sorry for your loss...” definitely deserve a side eye. Thankfully, her flow, playfulness and storytelling bring everything together. Listen here.

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“Told me ‘make a way,’ goddammit, I done paved it.”

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The Sassy Slapstick of Raven-Symoné in That’s So Raven

By: Fanta Sylla Viewed through a patriarchal lens, (young) women’s bodies are habitually seen as too fragile, too precious, to slip on a banana peel or fall down a flight of stairs. — Alex Clayton,...

✨ YOU GUYS I WROTE ABOUT THAT’S SO RAVEN AND RAVEN-SYMONE FOR CLEO JOURNAL 

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This is really great y’all—

“The legacy of That’s So Raven will be to have shown that a young girl’s body could be animated and plural, in constant metamorphosis and motion occupying highly-regulated spaces such as her school and her home: dressed as a jock, swollen by allergy, blue after a bad chemical experience, transformed into a cow. Raven-Symoné’s performance was, in the context of a tween show, risky and audacious. How is it possible to forget the image of Raven, stuck in her school’s hot air ducts, her face covered in melted cheese and tears? The show’s writers crafted a character that was both feminine and funny, and especially remarkable where the interaction of the two was concerned. Her excessive femininity, embodied in her outlandish sartorial choices and obsession with fashion, could be the source of satire, but in the vein of Miss Piggy it was always compatible with a certain ingenuity. After all, if she was creating disorder, she was also almost always the one who found ideas to re-establish order.”

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TBT: Portrait of Elma Lewis, renowned arts educator & MacArthur Fellow

“When I leave here, the body of my work will be all these wonderful people out there in the world, doing great things.” 

Murphy Lewis, Portrait of Elma Lewis, gifted to the National Center of Afro-American Artists (Roxbury, MA)

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How to Rebuke Burnout

+ Know that you are worth more than your work

+ Slow down

+ Actively seek rest. Then sit with it

+ Respect your mood and what it’s telling you. Then listen

+ Be intentional

+ Ask yourself what you need

+ Take a day

+ or two

+ or seven

+ Pace yourself. 

from BQ

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Ashley Oubré

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Publicist Kima Jones on Marketing & Diversity in Publishing (NPR Code Switch)

from Diversity In Book Publishing Isn't Just About Writers — Marketing Matters, Too by Jean Ho - NPR’s CodeSwitch / photo from joneskima.com

"With black writers and other minorities, the history of publishing has been unreceptive," Fugate says. "I think it's important we have stores and spaces like Eso Won. If you go to most other independents, they will have a section of African-American books. But a whole bookstore filled with books on African-Americans? That's something that people should see."

"Books are not going to stop anytime soon," publicist Kima Jones says. "Racism says that black writers and writers of color can't write the 'great American novel.' This conversation is decades old; people need to see that black literature is not anthropology. This is art making. And to say it's anything other than that is lessening the integrity of the art."

Read more

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Hosted by Daniel Kisslinger and Damone Williams, AirGo is a radio show and podcast dedicated to “showcasing strong young voices from Chicago and beyond.” Last week, the duo interviewed poet + essayist + Rookie Mag Story Editor and Chicago native, Diamond Sharp. Listen in!