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One Love is a Moral Movement (r. boddie 02/2024)
The release of the movie, “Bob Marley: One Love” on February 14 compared to a drum sounding the message of love across the world on Valentine’s Day. The intention of the release date resonated, as reports are that it is the highest grossing Valentine’s Day release to date. Click here.
It’s easy to imagine the docu-pic as a reverberation of the reggae superstar’s spirit quickening coarsened humanity. For truth, our world echoes wretchedness, with violence from Ukraine to Gaza and beyond.
One consequence has been steady depreciation of a currency of peace and an ethos of love. This left turn may explain why in his review of the movie, Jack Hamilton, writing for #Slatemagazine, confused high frequency vibrations for sentimentality. Click here. Based on its reception, the movie is a manifestation of a cherished ideal. Marley’s legacy is a cultural touchstone that is not unconnected to the energy and ideas from successive icons from Christophe to Garvey to Williams to Rodney and, more recently, Mottley, to name a few. Add to these, visionaries from the Spanish-speaking Caribbean and it becomes clear that the region has not wanted for talent. It has had public figures who have lent to a complex, if not comprehensive, political, social and moral ideology. To their vision, credit is due. For, it has shaped the region’s artistic output despite many disadvantageous inheritances and unforced errors.
No surprise then, unlike critics in the Hamilton vein, more have favored ‘the glass half full’ option in their critique of the movie. Whatever the perceived or real flaws in narrative scope, casting or other standard metrics by which movies are judged, they dim in the glow of “One Love’s” undeniable message of a Caribbean articulation that is fully formed. It spotlights what the region knows to be true…that its aesthetic needs neither permission nor vindication. In the language of the street, it suffices that “small axe does cut down big tree.”
Surely, influential studios are in a league of their own. However, the creative richness that bubbles inexorably from the diverse region is a benediction…a benevolent obeah that offers unique opportunities to all. Paramount Studios is to be commended for recognizing this and for embracing this project. It is a much-needed visual reminder of the power that lies in being a force for good.
As to the rest, if you must, paint us sentimental. In our sentimentality, we forward on triumphantly with a moral movement casting global spells and thriving to the rhythm of ska, calypso, rockers, reggae, dancehall, soca, reggaeton and other sonic expressions still in the making.
Avocados from Mexico and North-South Diplomacy (Ruby Boddie 12/27/2023)
Driving south to Florida from Georgia ahead of the November 202O general elections, a car with the sign “avocados from Mexico” cruised alongside us for a good 30 minutes. Decal aside, the sedan wasn’t distinctive. You’d be right to reckon that except for the news about escalating border crossings and the Trump administration’s response, I may not have been drawn to the sign at all.
All the same, I do remember feeling an elevated concern for the safety of the car’s occupants…the then prevailing socio-political context refused to be denied. My gut sense was that the US south, having been polled as Trump country, such a sign would likely not align with a cohort that had demonstrated a willingness to be uncivil to people with differing views. The subsequent historic storming of the US Capitol building after the conclusion of the elections proved this point.
Arriving back home, I was unable to immediately set aside the emotionally unsettling experience. I partly attributed this fact to a concurrent television marketing campaign. The advertiser employed a Tejano-influenced jingle that ended with the hook line, “Avocados from Mexico.” I imagined the jingle singer to be anglo because the sounding of the accented é in the spelling of México was inauthentic. With more than a pinch of irony, I conflated the catchy tune with other utterly unpalatable “borderisms” such as caged minors waiting to be processed by officialdom.
As is often the case, life soon served up a heavy dose of other catastrophes that distracted me from the avocado subject. Worst among these was the societal meltdown in the wake of the COVID pandemic.
Two years have since passed, but predictably, given the circularity of human affairs, avocados from Mexico are back on my radar. That the timing coincides with debates ahead of primaries for the 2024 general elections is not surprising. Although, this time, reporting from reputable agencies such as the New York Times is responsible for delivering news on the pulpy fruit that’s indigenous to México.
Recent reports suggest that over-consumption of avocados in the US is contributing to an undesirable chain of events in its homeland. Click here:
It seems that a significant bump in avocado exports has led to unsustainable farming practices and environmental trends. Land degradation arising from clearing huge tracts to accommodate commercially profitable avocado farms has been identified as a growing problem. For good measure, the rising threat of drought associated with the watering of thirsty avocado trees is in the mix. Clichéd as it sounds, there’s even a cartel angle: it is reported that avocado farmers have fallen prey to gangs who demand part of the proceeds from the sale of their harvest. Click here:
After the 1980s war on Mexican drug lords, I readily admit that I would not have guessed that the avocado, cherished for its heart-healthy nutrients, would become a trope for the complex diplomatic relationship between the US and its neighbor south of the border. How about you?
Love, Pain and Creativity
(r. boddie 10/08/2023)
“The Drum also Waltzes,” aired 5 October 2023 on PBS, elucidates the humanity and enduring creativity of the legendary Max Roach. On this first Sunday after it’s airing, I am more fortified to hope beyond the declaration of war between Israel and Hamas…yet again! More evidence that ‘life does not care’ that man can be so unjust to man. But, persist we must.
The theme of persisting beyond tragedy and brokenness recurs in the Max Roach documentary. I recommend it for many reasons including its stout choice of fact over revisionism. We see Max at his lowest and at his highest. It becomes possible to love him even more for its reckoning with his suffering and for revealing how he wrestled with it.
As the film documents, after the tragic loss of his friend and co-creative, Clifford Brown, Max was enabled to his higher self through his partnership with Abbey Lincoln.
Abbey Lincoln is of course another American cultural icon. For me, one of the most memorable scenes of the documentary is hearing Abbey, in her own voice, credit Max for saving her from Hollywood’s standard of achievement. It is clear that she knew, as he did, that she had much more to offer the world.
Yet, in a tragic Shakespearean twist, the love and marriage of these two icons later became unhinged. Deftly, the viewer is left to guess at all the reasons for this. Here again, the director of the documentary must be congratulated for exercising subtlety over pedestrian ‘scandal and bacchanal’ as we say in the Caribbean.
The elegant artistic choice prompted me to move to the sad beauty of Abbey’s lyrical “Love Lament.” I’ve enjoyed this piece countless times but it sat in my heart differently on this occasion. Check out the recording here:
We can certainly agree that Abbey Lincoln is more than enough on her own but I decided to indulge myself by following her “Love Lament” with a reading of Derek Walcott’s poem “Love after Love.” The indulgence seemed appropriate, even necessary and I thank Maria Popova’s article for suggesting it to me again. Read her brilliant piece here:
You may read Derek Walcott’s poem here:
Artifice, Artificial Intelligence and Price Fatigue
ruby boddie September 2023
I awoke determined to remember my first AI dream. By this, I mean the dream that featured artificial intelligence as its central theme. The dream and art connection has been long recognized. This piece relies on this tradition to make a statement about swinging firmly, if not securely, into twenty-first century life.
Sure, I’m late to the party but, what to do? I’m convinced that my dream belongs to the world. My brother would want to know I dreamt about him. My daughter may be the audience of one concerning a dream about her. Dreams often play to audiences that seem…well, parochial. I only now have all the world with whom to share my dream as an end of September story before it degrades into nightmares of Witches, Walmart Turkeys, and Santas. A word of warning is in order: Dreams transform everyday familiars into oddities so bring along imagination for fun.
In the dream I was one of a group of complete strangers out and about on a trip that wasn’t on land, sea or air. We each held a black object in our hands that were not hands. Mine was weightless but still had form so it must be that it was the same for all the others. Suddenly shouts erupted. I cannot describe the bursts of movement back and forth as walking, flying or swimming. In light time, I was part of a panoply of seismic reverberations. At the heart of the energy, I overheard myself saying, “Mine was paid too” as part of a communal chant, ” Mine too, Mine too.” Only because she was within touching distance, I asked the woman who was not a woman, “Am I shouting?” The noise level dipped and crescendoed again drowning out her reply but not her incredulous stare. We collectively ordered products to test whether our devices would pay for our purchases. With our every success the noise increased ten fold. Nothing else mattered. We seemed to be the only people, though not people, around.
All was still happy as I exited the dream. Awake, I found myself perched at the edge of the bed, as if I needed to make room for the figures in my dream. The bed sheets were in disarray. Immediately, my conscious mind kicked in, “Record this dream,” it advised. Desperate not to forget details, I yanked the charger from my cell phone beside my bed. My conscious mind continued, “Google search the question, ‘when was AI first used by a journalist to produce a published article.” Right about this time things began to feel creepy. How did the conscious mind of an AI critic become so comfortable with technology that was a one way road to the very thing I regarded with suspicion? Reporting on the end of the Writers strike provided background to my self scrutiny. Thus began my thoughts of pitching a story of a journalist who went on strike, discovered an AI app that paid all her bills and started a people’s revolution where everything was paid for. It was my first glimpse into a world where AI came close to being worth the while in my world of people fatigued by prices.
Hip Hop, Context and Control
Growing up, I heard adults growl the word “common” in a tone reserved for “snake” or “trash” alert. The sound would cause a reflexive pulling inward, the way glossy leaves of sensitive plants close to protect against intruders.
In those times, the word “common” was used to ritually whack people into conformity. A strike with a “bootoo,” a colloquialism for “baton,” was likely less effective .
The full derogatory meaning of “common” was moulded in its English, class-first context before it was planted in the colonies. In Trinidad where I grew up, it flourished as a choice label for someone who engaged in socially unapproved or loose conduct. Think for a minute about the English tabloid coverage of Meghan Markle and the British royalty and you’ll get the picture.
Unlike the noun, “commoner”, which was not gender limited, the adjective was generally reserved for females. Boys and men were protected from the slur. Much later, I came to understand that the influence of patriarchy accounted for the difference. Whether dumped as cargo on an island or on the mainland to the north, we were commoners. Being “common”, though, created a sub-class.
Decades later, when I read social media posts that targeted rap artist, “Common”, for kissing girls and making them cry, I was unmoved partly because I thought he was acting in the spirit of his chosen identifier. Common girls of my childhood felt free to kiss, switch and bounce as it pleased them. Their hems were high and they initiated intimacy and more. Secretly, common girls were the envy of good girls. Being uncommonly good can be tiring.
This past week, these seemingly unconnected events settled into a recognizable pattern because of a dust up at the Essence Cultural Festival in New Orleans. Reports agree that the Festival mainstage heaved under a communal twerk. The quake provoked wide debate in non- traditional media. I caught some of it on Instagram, @TheRoot and on @theblackstarnetwork. Much of the coverage confirmed that the more things change, the more they’re the same but, with some difference.
Those of a mind distinguish between social regulation and free expression and are able to tell when real conversation has been corrupted for another’s purpose. Of course, we can start a fire but we may not always be able to contain it.
Dust rising from the celebration of 50 years of Hip Hop music at the 2023 Essence Culture Festival is a smoke signal but, sometimes it pays to stay low, nose to the ground.
I’m sniffing for the scent of money, maybe it will likely lead to whoever stands to benefit or to lose by exciting controversy over the singer, India Arie’s, comment on being mindful of context in culture and community. I’m also asking in my best Abbey Lincoln voice, “… love what you doing down there?” I’m recalling earlier public floggings incited by an audacity to speak in a different beat. Mainly, I’m keeping from being distracted.
Ruby Boddie 07/11/23
AP Black History and a Naked Emperor
If the primary purpose of learning is enlightenment, African American history at the AP level should be as uncontroversial as an unexpired sweet. Why then objection from the highest office in the sunshine state.
I have heard two primary reasons offered in support of the Governor’s objection to the elective. The first is Black American History is already on the curriculum. In other words, there’s nothing to fix. The second is the proposal’s alleged “Woke” content would cause harm. Let’s see why both reasons are flawed.
The “Woke” argument is even more tenuous. Advocates suggest that the proposed course curriculum, developed by recognized scholars in the field, advances a political agenda; one described as “Woke” by the state’s Governor. It is enough to note that this description, lacking in precedent and research in the field of education, is an offense to scholarship.
By sleight of hand, objectors conjure tumbling self esteem within a segment of the student population. They present it as a real threat as they imagine a causal relationship between studying the history of African Americans and an uptick in guilt syndrome among tender students. To say this argument is disingenuous surely would be a stunning understatement.
Reasoning aside, if we could rely on even- handedness from the highest office in the state, we all will be compelled to place in the scale the documented outcomes of hundreds of years of European-American historicity on “othered” students…starting with the denial of education to their enslaved ancestors.
On the AP African American history issue the Emperor is exposed. The rejection of the curriculum proposal is more a mound of resistance to equal access to and enjoyment of educational opportunity as a human right. After the 2022 decision of the US Supreme Court shredding reproductive protections (Dobbs v. Jackson Women’s Health Organization) the move may be a salvo against other protections deriving from other Court decisions such as Brown v. Board of Education of Topeka (1954) and Regents of University California v. Bakke (1978). Any fixers?
The Myth of George Santos and little white lies
As language evolves, words and phrases that originated as terms of art sometimes enter into popular speech with mind- numbing results. How many times have we been treated to existential crises that were as mundane as a bad cup of coffee? As fashionable, is the expression “lived experience.”
On its face, the term seemed an inelegant redundancy and didn’t deliver the dopamine punch that I prefer from street vocabulary. I now confess that I misjudged why it became compelling terminology.
I knew I had made the wrong call, after the reporting by the New York Times about the patent inconsistencies of the stories told by US Congressman George Santos about his lived experience. Based on the revelations of the article, a reasonable conclusion is that the Congressman demeaned the meaning of “lived experience” in its philosophical sense, that is, the idea that the experiences of all peoples, regardless of social standing, are objectively valid. The experience of people from all strata deserve to be considered as that of groups that benefit from societal validation; validation often based on random criteria.
The Times article detailed many ways in which the Congressman is alleged to have misrepresented and outright lied to create a fictitious identity in order to be elected. According to the article, his statements about his education, employment, assets, religion, social network, even his name, have been proven to be materially false. In short, the reporting contradicted what the Congressman led the public to believe was his lived experience.
The stunning reporting on the Congressman has persuaded me that the expression is not a redundancy but a useful device to confirm authenticity in an era when so much of what the public sees and hears cannot be trusted. It’s possible that the term may have claimed a place in common usage thanks to the wisdom of the street that determined there was a need to make it more difficult for unscrupulous operators like the Congressman to easily extricate themselves from lies by claiming inadvertence: “Aww shucks” is not a suitable defense, as the
Congressman is discovering. There is an intentionality to lived experience that does not align with “little white lies.” Having spectacularly failed the “lived experience” test, the
Congressman is not likely to be re-elected. I hope he will find time to read Poetry. It helps with all manner of spiritual ailments. I recommend the poem, “Sea-Fever” to him
https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/54932/sea-fever-56d235e0d871e). Like the poet, I want to say that all I ask is “…a sweet dream when the long trick’s over.”
Ruby Boddie 01/22/23
Ruby Boddie is thinking of Arias, Webs and Facts
We all have the capacity to switch from the disposition we are naturally inclined to, if the right circumstances present. Think about how many times you heard someone recall an incident about a familiar using the description, “out of the blue”, to note a behavior that was out of character. I well recall the first time my daughter stepped out of “the blue.” At the time, she pretty much had been defined by her natural tendency to dismiss annoying tendencies in those around her. The day she flipped, she was a young teen. First, her jaw tightened then her voice exploded, “Mom, it’s an aria.”
The trigger seemed a small thing: My failure to call an operatic solo by its proper name. I suppressed a laugh at her atypical display of annoyance, taking it as a gift because my secret fear was that she may have been crippled by inability to call out nonsense when necessary. Calling out nonsense is in my view an important attribute that is all the more beautiful when exercised by women.
Sadly, but not surprisingly, speaking fact has been subverted by those who now conveniently place form over substance. Their preference is a contrived “correctness”. Followers of this school seem determined to derail legitimate and appropriate effort towards dismantling the cornerstones of centuries of institutionalized inequality. More and more, there is pressure to pass the “sounds right” test, when facts demand more nuance and critical thoughtfulness. Inarticulateness may suit new-found sensitivity, however, it is ill-suited for the big job of extracting harmony out of conflict where people must truly be seen and understood. How far does imposed correctness go to solving issues that are destined to disrupt what’s left of cohesion? Is it too far-fetched to expect that through the embrace of principles of respect of all men and women we may come to trust ourselves to judge behavior and language in context?
I recently saw a photo of the singer Madonna and her young son. In the photo, the well-known singer was shown hugging a young man who was attired in a shirt that was unbuttoned to reveal fit abdominal muscles. The accompanying article mentioned that he was her adopted son, a Black man,
who was born in the country of Malawi on the African continent. As a thought experiment, I wondered what the image, on its own, would have conveyed without its accompanying fact commentary, given the singer’s notoriety for pushing boundaries. Consider also the example of the vile language used in coverage about Meghan Markle by a particular journalist… language so hateful, I was surprised that it passed basic editor’s standards for publication.
There are thousands of such examples to choose from. They all hint at a case for examining why we perceive people and situations in the way we do. Dominant societal rules frame our perception. In this short piece, it is enough to note that the who, what, when, and where of rule-making have become even more complex in a flatter digital world. You may say too, it’s all the faster to disseminate rules and influence perception. By contrast, interventions to treat with related negative consequences seem to happen not nearly fast enough. The assault on the Capitol on 6 January 2021 and the historic failure as at 2:00 pm EST (the last edit of this blog) of the US House of Representatives to install a speaker, are indications that the problem is real and the stakes are high. Rule-making, like web spinning, draw us away from our center. Our collective comfort means we cannot continue to undervalue facts, simple or complex… an Aria is to be distinguished from a song written for more than one voice. All people are created equal.