stereotypes.

kara walker, oooh kara walker. oh how i hate thee.

the image above with the little black girl engaging in sexual activity with the horse/donkey/whatever the hell thats supposed to be... that was the first image of kara walker's that i was introduced to. as far as i can tell, she seems like a self-loathing black woman who makes money by selling her horrific ideas/images of her race to white folk, who eat. it. up.

this is the woman who said that all black ppl secretly wish to be slaves. do you know, that quote haunted me since the time i first heard about it? that all black ppl still want to be slaves to white folx. damn.

however, i was perusing her website and i was a little torn. because we all know i love to hate these images of black people, and tearing them to pieces. and i thought to myself... what is the difference between her work and my work? seriously though.. the image above with the tree.. "so i ask what is positive black image (other than a contradiction)" damn, kara. the sexual liberation of mammy is similar. there are no positive images in it. when the black characters break their caricature, their "role, they just jump into another one. why the hell is that???

and i basically have been saying its because i don't know the whole piece yes.. its still mostly an idea in my head... and it can change. but i also have been thinking that its because right now, its because there is no way out... but we have to create one together (or some cheesy shit like that).

but, as a good friend of mine said once, artists are exploiters.

i wrote a poem abt it once:

The artist’s job is to exploit

We are the traitors of our races,
Uncle Toms- we let white folks into our cabins
We bleed our family’s secrets onto the page
Onto the screen,
Onto society

We make our fathers face their demons
While the white world watches
Amazed, transfixed- frozen.

The artist’s job is to exotify

I have othered my body.
My hands, my breasts,
My hair, my skin-
White men have looked upon me
Like a poisonous flower ready to pluck
And to stuff in a book, to wither, to dry out.

They touch me
And tell me I am beautiful. I am exotic.
I am their Nubian Queen. I am savage.

I walk away from these men, confused
Only to walk into the arms of a white woman
Who will do the same.
You are so different. So urban. So black.

The artist’s job is to intellectualize.

T here is a reason for our anger.
No, it has nothing to do with human emotions-
Webster has a different word for every feeling, every action.
Hegemony, beurocracy, democracy
Racism, sexism, masochism,
And eventually we lose touch with our emotions
And spew out our intellectual rhetoric
Bourgeoisie bullshit back
In the faces of our own communities.
[...]
You can use the dictionary to define anything
Absolutely everything is a social construct
But that doesn't make it any less real,
Less legitimate.

I do not call myself an artist.
To do so is to not belong.
The title of “artist” causes pain.
“Your work is too cultural,” he said.
“Think of your audience. White people cannot
Relate to this.”

So sell out, artist.
Exploit your people,
Exotify your body,
Intellectualize your history,
Assimilate to the whims of your
White Audience
And don’t think a damn thing about it.

Do it with a kool-aid smile
While they clap for you
Say something sweet,
“Oh you speak so well,”
Do a little shuck and jive,
And make them eat it up,
Shove that silver spoon down their throats
And find a way to look at yourself in the mirror tomorrow morning.

where the dots are, [...] is where i got stuck. never finished.

but yeah... kara walker, you are a traitor. and i really dont want to be one myself, although i feel mysel falling in love with these stereotypes. not as a way to look at myelf, or a history to be cherished, but more like obsession.. like i said earlier, something that i love to hate. and im afraid they're gonna seep into my skin and find their way into my conscience.


however, to end on a funny note.. i <3 dave chappelle. lol!