Copyrights 2025

Written By:
Allen Johnston
Music Specialist

Big Joe Turner

The idea that major record labels will be devastated by the wave of artists reclaiming their
copyrights is almost laughable, especially when considering what these labels currently own
and control.

Major record companies have long relied on their back catalog as a built-in revenue stream.
Sales of CDs, digital streams, vinyl, and live performance recordings continue to sustain them
while revenue from new artists remains unpredictable. Over the decades, these corporations
have strategically structured the industry in their favor.

During the 1980s, major labels executed a plan that dismantled independent Black and White
retailers while securing dominance over distribution. They introduced the SoundScan system,
offering free computers to independent store owners and coalitions. This initiative gave labels
direct access to sales data, allowing them to pinpoint which catalog titles were consistent
sellers. With this knowledge, they could optimize manufacturing costs while maximizing profits.

Since they owned the copyrights, they essentially paid themselves through mechanical,
synchronization, and performance publishing rights.Recording contracts from that era—and even before—ensured that major labels retained nearlyall revenue streams from copyrights. Artists were left with only a fraction of publishing revenue, limited performance royalties, and sometimes a cut of merchandising. PA (musical composition) and SR (sound recording) copyrights for nearly every hit song before 1984 remain under the ownership or control of a major label or one of its affiliates. For instance, Sony Music might control the SR copyright of a song, hold at least 50% of the PA copyright through contractual agreements, and place the composition within its wholly owned publishing division. This setup allowed money to circulate internally, with one corporate division paying another. Additionally, many artists had taken advances against royalties, leading to labels claiming ownership over original songwriter shares as well.

Artists affected by these agreements include, but are not limited to: Aretha Franklin, Marvin Gaye, Otis Redding, Ray Charles, Chuck Berry, James Brown, Clyde McPhatter & The Drifters, Big Joe Turner, The Temptations, Little Richard, Wilson Pickett, Fats Domino, The Dominoes, Sly & The Family Stone, Lloyd Price, Martha & The Vandellas, Parliament-Funkadelic, The Four Tops, The Isley Brothers, Jackie Wilson, Smokey Robinson & The Miracles, Kool & The Gang, The Supremes, Frankie Lymon & The Teenagers, Earth, Wind & Fire, and many more.

Even in the worst-case scenario, where some artists reclaim their rights, major labels will simply renegotiate with savvy copyright owners who have financial leverage. For everyone else, it will remain business as usual—offering advances in exchange for new contracts.

These catalogs retain immense value in the digital age, particularly in streaming, film and commercial licensing, and corporate partnerships. With their industry connections, financial muscle, and technological infrastructure, major labels remain well-positioned to continue profiting from these assets.

Harvard Cancels Slavery Research program

Update on a troubling situation!

By: Kristina Mullenix, the Alabama Storykeeper 

Harvard recently fired researchers for their Slavery Remembrance program without notice and after researchers uncovered links to slavery in Antigua and Barbuda. In September, the vice provost had told them "don't find too many descendants." The project, according to news, has been handed over to American Ancestors in Boston. 

Link from Instagram about firing: 

https://www.instagram.com/reel/DFTAEpjJn9q/?igsh=MW5yanJ6cm1zajd5aw==

News articles about the situation: 

https://www.thecrimson.com/article/2025/1/24/harvard-disbands-slavery-remembrance-program/ 

https://www.boston.com/news/local-news/2025/01/24/harvard-outsources-slavery-remembrance-program-lays-off-staff/ 

This is the website about the project (still on their webpage): 

https://legacyofslavery.harvard.edu/homepage 

the culture of black girl tokenism

BY: SAMARA PEARLEY

Growing up, seeing black girls on television made me appreciate my skin color and inspired me to be an actress. But I never really paid close attention to the role of black girls on syndicated cable shows. Lately I've noticed that a lot of black roles in programs I watch are grounded in tokenism. Tokenism was established in the 1950s and was termed in the 1970s. In the late 60s and early 70s another form of token was established, “the token black”. According to Ruth  Thibodeau in her piece From Racism to Tokenism: The Changing Face Of Blacks in New Yorker Cartoons, “cartoons were mostly racially themed, and depicted black people in token roles where they are only there to create a sense of inclusion”. Though Ruth was speaking specifically about cartoons, this idea can be applied to any medium featuring only one black character. Today in an era of DEI (diversity, equity, inclusion) we see the same things Thibodeau described in her writings. Tokenism strongly suggests the one black character among the many non black means a diverse voice or cast. To be fair, tokenism also includes members of the BIPOC and LGBTQIA community in predominantly white programs, but for the purpose of my scholarship, I'm focusing on black girls. Being a token means being different from the rest of the group in order to create some kind of diversity. Tokenism is a tactic, strategy used to get the optics of inclusion for marginalized people. Unwelcome Guest on the website Antimoon.com states: “An example of a token black would be a black person who is hired in a company, not because of his or her skills but because the company is by law to hire black people. It's not a derogatory term.”

 Monique Coleman would be a good example of tokenism. She is the only black-non mixed character in a predominantly white cast. Monique is well known for being on the hit Disney channel original movie (DCOM) High School Musical.  In an interview in December of 2022 with Christy Carlson Romano, Coleman states that “disney broke her heart”. Coleman went on to say how they left her out of the high school musical promo tour. She says their reasoning for leaving her and another cast member out was because “they didn't have enough room on the plane”. I find it suspicious how she was on the front cover of all the movies, one of the main characters, and her character Taylor was the smartest girl in school, but she wasn't on the tour? I'm sure Disney had enough resources to accommodate Monique. Coleman’s castmate is Corbin Bleu who is mixed. Do you find it suspicious that he got invited on the plane and Monique didn't? He gets to wear his natural hair but she doesn't? For example, in an article published by the Guardian, Coleman states that her hair stylist for high school musical did her hair very poorly in the front. And because of that she suggested wearing headbands so the stylists wouldn't have to cover her hair up with a hat everytime she was on screen.

Tokenism leads to stereotypes as well as mistreatment of black actors. It can also result in short lived programming of African American content. A result of mistreatment of blacks as a whole in this space is, black shows don't have the same life as non black shows, whether the show is good or bad. For example True Jackson v.p a show about a Black girl named True who was offered a job at mad style (a predominantly white fashion company) as the vice president of their teen apparel department. Keke Palmer is the main character of this show. This show got canceled after 2 seasons. Keke Palmer is in the process of trying to get theTtrue Jackson V.P. reboot done, while her counterparts iCarly and Zoey 101 have gotten, approved, and aired their reboots. Is this based on race? I can't say. However the track record of disparity between blacks and whites are very real. Recently Nickelodeon has been airing a show titled “That Girl Lay Lay” with not only 2 black girl leads but a predominantly black cast! There's no information on whether it's getting renewed or canceled, but I hope that this show can get a 3rd season. There's a lot of work to be done but this show signifies progress.

John H. Bracey, Jr., a pioneer of Black Studies

BY: DR ANDREW ROSA

In “the Grand Tradition”: A Reflection on the Passing of John H. Bracey, Jr., a pioneer of Black Studies Western Kentucky University 

“To teach is to mentor, and to mentor is to teach and lead students out,” John H. Bracey, Jr., 2019

Historians are, by and large, not noted for introspection. Our calling requires us to analyze past events, but rarely do we turn our interpretive talents upon ourselves. The occasion of John H. Bracey’s recent passing from the scene at the age of 81, however, has prompted me to reflect upon his significance to the field of Black studies and to my own evolution as a scholar of Black history. While beyond the scope of this reflection, I contend that any comprehensive examination of Bracey’s life history would illuminate an important genealogy of Black intellectualism essential to an understanding of the history of Black studies and a model for doing Black history at a moment when many states, especially across the U.S. South, seem to be engaged in a general assault on any type of knowledge that interrogates such critical issues as race, sex, gender, and class. 

My relationship to Bracey began when I arrived to the W.E.B. Du Bois Department of African American Studies at the University of Massachusetts, Amherst in 1998, after receiving my masters from Temple University. In the broader history of Black studies, Temple is distinguished for establishing the first PhD-granting program in the field and for capturing, by the time I got there in 1995, significant media attention due, in no small part, to its Afrocentric orientation and to the charisma, entrepreneurialism, scholarly productivity, and rhetorical acumen of its chairperson, Molefi Kete Asante. Who could but forget the noisy academic battles that erupted during this period between Asante and the Wellesley classicist Mary Lefkowitz over how much, if anything, the civilizations of ancient Greece and Rome, and all Western thought for that matter, owed to the cultures of Africa, and particularly Egypt. This debate resulted in some notable books by Asante and Lefkowitz, as well as several acerbic essays in such popular outlets as The Washington Post, and Village Voice. In this way Afrocentricity was introduced to a wider public as a combination of racial romanticism, historical mythmaking, popular history, and the paradigmatic antithesis of Eurocentricity in that it purported to be a corrective to the wholesale exclusion of Africa and Africans from the unfolding of world history.  

To be clear, my choice of Temple for graduate school was not rooted in a desire to study under Asante, or by any unquestionable commitment to Afrocentrism. In fact, I knew very little about either at the time, and simply chose Temple because it was considered the premier graduate program in Black studies and I was offered a full ride in the form of a Future Faculty Fellowship, which aimed to increase the number of minority faculty in the professoriate. More than this, Temple offered me the opportunity to continue a course of study that began when I was an undergraduate student at Hampshire College where I felt as if I walked in the shadows of Great Barrington’s own W.E.B. Du Bois and the writer extraordinaire James Baldwin, who briefly taught in the Five College Consortium as a visiting faculty, before returning to the south of France where he died a few years before I started my undergraduate journey. At Hampshire, I had the good fortune of studying under the likes of Robert Coles, e. francis white, Michael Ford, Andrew Salkey, and David Blight, to name a few. Each of these individuals shaped how I first began to seriously analyze the history, culture, and contributions of people of African descent to U.S. society, which led me into the interdisciplinary field of Black studies. 

At Temple I came to appreciate how Afrocentrism represented a distinct school of thought within the larger universe of Black studies and, beyond this, an important variant in a long tradition of Black intellectualism that, since the early nineteenth century, defended Black capacity from attack by marking the achievements of African civilizations in the long centuries before European contact and the rise of racial slavery. For Asante, Afrocentricity’s centering of African knowledge systems made it the ideal foundational philosophy for the discipline; however, I came to reject efforts to impose a single methodology on doing Black studies, seeing it as stifling, unrealistic, and anti-intellectual. Moreover, as one who grew up in diverse working-class communities on both side of the Atlantic, Afrocentricity seemed to me to reinforce troubling discourses and hierarchies, and fell well short, as a research methodology, for engaging with the actual history and cultures of Africa. In addition to its inability to account for the hybrid identities and experiences across Africa and its diaspora, Afrocentricity’s emphasis on the dynastic universe of ancient Nile River Valley civilization made, in my view, little room for considering the contributions of Black people to the making of the New World and and an understanding of the myriad transformations wrought by the process of enslavement and colonialism. 

It was this type of interrogation that led me to join the doctoral program at UMass where I was one of five students admitted into the History track of the program’s second class. It was here where I developed a wider understanding of Black Studies’ history and learned how the UMass program was uniquely connected to Black movement history. In fact, it seemed as if the department’s founding faculty rode into academia on a wave of campus revolts, the freedom movement in the South, and several militant organizations that took hold in cities across the country in the era of Black Power. The department’s first acting head, Michael Thelwell, was a close confidant of Kwame Toure (Stockley Carmichael) and a founding member of the Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee (SNCC) at Howard University. As a student at Bennett College, where she now serves as provost, Esther Terry participated in the sit-in movement in Greensboro, North Carolina and was instrumental in the founding of SNCC. Ernest Allen, Jr. was active in the Revolutionary Action Movement (RAM) and became a leading historian on Black nationalism; William Strickland was Malcom X’s biographer and a founding member, along with Vincent Harding, of the Atlanta-based Institute of the Black World (IBW)—a grassroots organization committed to bringing Black studies into Black communities. 

Of John Bracey, he arrived to UMass in 1972 by way of Howard University in Washington, D.C. and Chicago where he attended both Roosevelt University and Northwestern University. At Roosevelt, Bracey came under the influence of the linguist Lorenzo Turner, Charles Hamilton, coauthor of Black Power (1967), August Meier, an historian of Black intellectual history, and, most significantly, St. Clair Drake, a trailblazer in urban sociology and a pioneering figure in both African and African American studies. At Northwestern, Bracey became involved in the Black studies movement along with the likes of James Turner, Christopher Reed, and Darlene Clark Hine, all leading figures in the field of Black Studies today. 

As with most of the founding faculty of the Du Bois Department, Bracey was active in the civil rights, Black liberation, and peace movements, working with the Congress of Racial Equality (CORE), Chicago Friends of SNCC, Students for a Democratic Society (SDS), and RAM. Bracey often recalled how his arrival to UMass was the result of a request from Du Bois himself to hire the executor of his estate, the historian, Communist, and author of American Negro Slave Revolt (1943), Herbert Aptheker, as a condition of acquiring his personal papers. Meeting resistance from the Massachusetts legislature, Aptheker advised Thelwell to request five new faculty lines for the department in his place, one of which became Bracey’s position. More than underscoring the curious intersection of Cold War politics and Black studies, this story of Bracey’s joining UMass points to the insistence of the department’s founding faculty to protect their autonomy in building a program that would advance Black scholarship and mobilize knowledge for the liberation of Black peoples and all other exploited groups worldwide. 

In the long years after the battle over Black studies had been won and new questions arose as to theory, methodology, and the place of the discipline in relation to larger Black community, Bracey was instrumental in moving the Du Bois Department forward by bringing in a host of brilliant faculty who were at the forefront of charting new directions in the field of Black studies. Over the course of a career that spanned more than a half century, Bracey established himself as a giant in Black studies and a veritable institution within himself. A lifetime member of the Association for the Study of African American Life and History (ASALH), National Council of Black Studies (NCBS), and the Organization of American Historians (OAH) Bracey’s significance and presence were felt across the profession. As a scholar with an enormous range of interests and competencies, he resists simple definition.  He wrote several award-winning works on Black life and history, and produced the kind of documentary and bibliographic research that gave textual substance to Black studies; all of this he made accessible to scholars, teachers, and students.  

Bracey was also a consummate collaborator, working with such prominent thinkers as Sharon Harley, August Meier, James Smethurst Manisha Sinha, Sonia Sanchez, and Elliott Rudwick, to name just a few. While much of his writing and research focused on Black social and cultural history, radical ideologies and movements, and the history of Black women, he also produced comparative and transnational histories, which explored, for example, relations between African Americans and Native Americans, Afro-Latinx, and Jewish Americans. This includes several co-edited volumes, such as Black Nationalism in America (1970); the award-winning African American Women and the Vote: 1837-1965 (1997); Strangers and Neighbors: Relations between Blacks and Jews in the United States (1999); and African American Mosaic: A Documentary History from the Slave Trade to the Twenty-First Century (2004). From an award-winning essay on the musician John Coltrane in the Massachusetts Review in 2016 to his contribution to the Furious Flower poetry anthology in 2019, even Bracey’s final works stand as testaments to his interdisciplinary imagination, creative spirit, and genuine love for Black people. 

As a model for Black studies, Bracey’s legacy suggests that the best of the discipline is in its interdisciplinary approach to knowledge production, its embrace of scholarly rigor and analysis, and in its mindfulness of the history, culture, and contributions made by people of African descent in the U.S., and throughout the African diaspora. Despite the many transformations that have accompanied the institutionalization and expansion of Black studies in American higher education, for Bracey, the discipline’s priority commitment to subjecting society to the most serious analysis to generate greater understanding of Black people’s experiences in the modern world was one that always remained steadfast and foundational to the Black studies enterprise. 

I cannot help but to think of how my own work documenting the life history of St. Clair Drake was perhaps inspired by the genuine affection Bracey carried for his Roosevelt mentor and their shared commitment to the field of Black studies. As he once informed me, “Drake was my teacher and guide in the struggle.” For this reason, the idea of building an interdisciplinary department of scholar-activists at UMass “was not that utopian. After all,” he concluded, “we had Professor Drake himself—co-author [with Horace Cayton] of Black Metropolis (1945), Pan Africanist and advisor to Kwame Nkrumah, participant in civil rights marches and sit-ins for over three decades, sociologist, anthropologist and political theorist—as a model.” In this way Bracey laid claim to an intellectual estate that can be traced, through Drake, to Black studies earlier peripheries, particularly to those sites where Black intellectuals were free to combine scholarship and militant activism in what Drake called “the grand tradition.” 

Black Business in Colonial America

By Karleton Thomas

As enslaved Africans gained their freedom in colonial America, they used the labor activities

learned in slavery to start a new life. Across the cities and towns of this nation, free Blacks set

up agribusinesses. They took up as bricklayers, gunsmiths, shoemakers, nurses, and innkeepers

to form the initial steps of the Black business community. Collectivism underlined the economic

activity of free Blacks in colonial America as they worked to establish independence in an

outwardly racist society successfully.

Those days are long gone, and blatantly racist laws, such as those barring credit to free Blacks,

no longer sit on the books of American cities. By comparison, the discriminatory laws of today

hold little weight when viewed next to laws in place during colonial America. Few, if any, Black

businesses of that time were allowed to grow outside of the community, but colonial-era Black

businessmen thrived when compared to those of today.

Many arguments have been made regarding the decline of the Black business community -

integration, angry white mobs, racist laws, etc. Though all contributing factors, none can fully

explain the demise of the Black business community. As markets opened up and Blacks were

able to walk through doors closed to previous generations, one would expect burgeoning Black

business metropolises to follow, but despite our best efforts, that never happened.

Today, most Black businesses fail within four years. For all the businesses being started by

Black entrepreneurs today, 87% will gross less than $15,000. Most can be categorized as

lifestyle businesses - entities run by its founder for the benefit of its founder. That’s a hard sell in

a community but despite this, the age of individualism looms on. It wasn’t the angry mobs or

racist laws that first slowed and then stalled progress, it was the varying motivations developed

amongst the Black community. Now, instead of a few options, Blacks were able to chart

individual pathways designed for their sole benefit. This produced outstanding, singular results,

but for many Black entrepreneurs the lack of community has proven to be an insurmountable

obstacle.

Our formerly enslaved, African ancestors practiced collectivism because pulling together to

ensure a chance at survival. Collectivism does not make much sense today but the principals

live on in cooperative business practices. A cooperative business model is one that responds to

the needs of all stakeholders; employees, customers, suppliers, the local community, the

environment and future generations, as well as investors. The adoption of the cooperative

business model as the framework for current and future Black business communities presents

two huge benefits: the recirculation of Black dollars and low unemployment.

The Black dollar and its effect or lack thereof has been well documented across academic

journals. At one point, it was reported the average lifespan of the Black dollar in the Black

community was six hours compared to 28 in Asian communities. That fact was proven to be

false but when the majority of businesses in Black communities are owned by individuals who

do not live or hire from that community - the truth is not far away. It is safe to assume that over

$.50 of every dollar spent leaves the community.

When a business in the Black community is owned by someone who lives and hires from the

community - we all benefit. Cooperative business models present a number of workforce

development opportunities for free Blacks who have been denied entry to the traditional job

market. As more cooperatives are formed, unemployment in those areas will dramatically

decrease, so will crime, drug use, and dependence on government programs. Grocery stores

wholly owned by the community can employ 100’s of employees with an invested interest in that

venture's success. They would live and work in the same area - tending to and protecting their

future.

WHITE PEOPLE CAN’T TALK ABOUT RACE

By: Corey Harris

“The very serious function of racism … is distraction. It keeps you from doing your work. It keeps you

explaining, over and over again, your reason for being. Somebody says you have no language, and so you

spend 20 years proving that you do. Somebody says your head isn’t shaped properly, so you have

scientists working on the fact that it is. Somebody says that you have no art, so you dredge that up.

Somebody says that you have no kingdoms, and so you dredge that up. None of that is necessary.”  -  Toni Morrisson

Can White People Talk About Race?

I am the grandson of a sharecropper on my father’s side. He had a simple philosophy

about firearms: “better to have it and not need it than to need it and not have it.” Racism, then

as now, represented a mortal threat, be it physical violence of the lynch mob or the systematic

violence exercised by the legal system. My maternal grandfather was raised by a single mother

who was born into slavery and washed clothes for white folks for a living. Nevertheless, she

made sure that her ten children learned to read. A few even went to college, not a small feat for

rural southern Black folk in the early twentieth century. Myself being raised by a single mother, I

grew up surrounded by two great aunts who worked as cleaning ladies for white people their

entire lives. The blues and gospel music was the first music I heard as a young boy. It was my

first reference point, the soundtrack to numerous church picnics, family reunions and house

parties. Since becoming a professional blues singer and musician, these family stories and

experiences have informed my craft since the day I first picked up what my great-aunt called the

“guit-fiddle”. Indeed, for the vast majority of Black blues musicians, their particular racial

identities and family histories feed the music that they make. It matters. However, over the

years I observed many times the minefield that when Black musicians must navigate whenever

they endeavor to talk honestly and publicly about their experiences with racism in America and

how it relates to our music making. Similar to when Fox News commentator Laura Ingraham

famously advised LeBron James to ‘shut up and dribble’ in reaction to his vocal social activism,

the Black musician is often told to ‘shut up and play.’ As in sports, any honest discussion about

race as it relates to the history of the music and contemporary dynamics is extremely unpopular

among many white folk. This essay is about the backlash that ensues when this happens.

In today’s white-dominated blues industry, the Black musician is expected to entertain,

first and foremost. However, this expectation is in direct opposition to the traditional Black

cultural imperative of the blues musician as a truth teller. As Willie Dixon once said, “It’s got to

be fact or it wouldn’t be blues” and we all know that facts never cared about anyone’s feelings.

However, offending white people’s feelings or challenging their preferred narrative is frowned

upon and is punished by reduced income and marginalization. In 2015 this became glaringly

obvious when I penned a short essay on FB entitled, “Can White People Play the Blues?” My

central premise was that in the context of systematic American racism and the history of slavery,

Jim Crow and oppression which greatly benefitted European immigrants to the United States,

the positionality of white people with regards to blues performance can not be overlooked.

Music scholar Lawrence Hoffman once remarked that “there is no white original master of the

blues on any instrument - electric or acoustic.” As Cornel West once famously declared, race

matters.

Although I clearly stated in the article that white people have always been free to play

what they want to play, and that there are many outstanding blues musicians who identify as

white, many white commentators overlooked this point and flooded my inbox with all manner of

defensive and hostile responses. Admittedly, the provocative title was rhetorically framed to

grab the readers’ attention. I immediately found out that this worked. In the pages that follow I

will examine white reactions to discussions of race in the blues and what this tells us about

white identity and privilege. Sifting through the various outraged comments to the post, four

main points reveal themselves: 1) The author is not Black enough; 2) It’s racist to talk about

race and race has nothing to do with the history of the blues; 3) Anyone has a ‘right’ to play the

blues and white people suffered, too; 4) blues is not the sole domain of Black people but is

rather the result of the ‘melting pot’ of Black and white cultures in America.

Rather than engage the main points of the essay, many negative responses took the

form of personal attacks, questioning my ‘authenticity’ as a Black person or my ‘right’ to play the

blues. Consider this emphatic response:

Harris is a joke. It's not a racial thing. Harris went to Bates College! That's a school for rich

privileged people. Harris is a phony through and through and his music and his whole style is a

joke. Some rich kid from Colorado that went to some fancy northeastern snob school. You are a

damn joke Harris. You have absolutely no right to turn it into a racial thing. I'm from Chicago.

The implication here is that the author is not to be taken seriously because education

somehow invalidates Black player’s cultural history or ethnic identity. Moreover, the fact that I

was born in Colorado and was able to attend Bates College (on scholarship) was evidence that I

was rich and privileged, thus making my chosen profession a ‘joke’. The obvious inference is

that the Black player must be poor and uneducated in order to qualify (by this white man’s

standards) as a ‘real’ blues player. Curiously, it is hard to find such challenges to the ‘right’ of

white British players such Eric Clapton, or white American blues musicians such as John

Hammond Jr. or Stevie Ray Vaughn. Harvard-educated Pete Seeger, son of the famed

ethnomusicologist Charles Seeger, is widely accepted as an authentic, traditional folk musician,

his privileged social status notwithstanding. Their authenticity is never questioned, because ‘it's

not a racial thing’ and ‘anyone can do it’...except a college educated, Black blues musician.

Socialization that is the result of the historical legacy of white supremacy dictates that the final

arbiter of who and what is blues, and who is Black enough is necessarily a white person. They

alone claim the power to name things and people, to decide what is real and what is fake. The

concluding assertion, “I’m from Chicago” implies that merely residing in a city known for its blues

music is license enough to reserve the right to have the final say on the issue. This is akin to

the author saying that he is more of an authority on Italian music than any Italian simply by

virtue of the fact that he lived in Italy for three years. Never mind the fact that I don’t understand

Italian and have no comprehensive understanding of that nation’s culture nor its history. As

generations of Mande griots’ have observed, just because a log is floating in the river does not

make it an alligator.

Another commentator’s response was so similar to that of the above respondent, that it

was as if they had compared notes ahead of time. Again, instead of grappling with the points

raised in the article, this irate writer focused on the author’s education as proof of being a

‘phony’ and a ‘joke’:

“He's turning a great American music into a race war. Good Work! Corey! Man I wish I had the

chance to go to that fancy school you did. And the guy plays Reggae! Give me a break. It's like

Donald Trump playing Reggae. You owe everyone an apology. Phony! Then get a job in a bank.

That is where your rich privileged ass belongs.”

Undergirding these biases is the idea of colorblindness: race as being insignificant to musical

expression, identity or group history. The implication here is that if we simply proclaim that we

don't see ‘color’ then racism ceases to exist. If we don’t talk about race or history then it is not a

problem. Ideas such as these masquerade as being anti-racist but in fact refuse to do the

harder work of considering the complex implications of race as it relates to the blues. Moreover,

by resorting to a personal attack, the respondent puts the onus on the author of the article who

must now apologize for offending everyone’s feelings. Talking about race as it relates to the

blues is framed as turning the blues into a ‘race war’. We are led to believe that race was never

a problem in the music industry until someone dared to bring it up. With the concluding

legerdemain, this writer transforms the author into an absurdity, invoking Donald Trump for extra

comic effect. Race is conveniently left off the table. Nevermind the elephant in the room, but

can you believe this uppity negro has the nerve to challenge white folk’s perceptions? He’s

dangerous! How dare he? As another respondent wrote, “In an age when it is apparent that

races need to understand each other, live in peace and fairness and come together, your essay

is clearly throwing fuel on a fire that needs to be extinguished. Shame on you.” Unfortunately

for this respondent, no fire was ever extinguished by simply ignoring it.

Reading comments such as this, I began to realize that many white people simply can’t

talk about race. Merely talking about race is seen as more dangerous than racism itself.

Several commentators immediately resorted to personal attacks and insults, an easier tactic

than considering the actual assertions of the article. One particularly indignant respondent

wrote with an energetic use of his keyboard’s caps lock, “Can black people play rock? can black

people play ANY OTHER FUCKING GENRE ON THE PLANET?! I guess not, you racist mother

fucking pig!” Another enraged commentator expressed his anger, also with capital letters for

extra emphasis: “ It's not about COLOR, CULTURE or RACE. IT'S about SPIRIT! ! And the cat

that wrote this dribble has the SPIRIT of a RACIST!!”

Such comments reveal that many of these writers were triggered by the title and did not

even read through the whole article. Both of the above comments betray a peculiar sensitivity

to any suggestion that racism/white supremacy plays any role in blues music history. I had

crossed an invisible line. In a situation that is as tragic as it is comical, the irony of white people

calling a Black blues musician a racist for bringing up the topic of racism in the blues was

completely lost on many commentators. Looking closely, we see the common perception in

white culture that racism is not an entrenched system to maintain white supremacy in society,

but rather a simply a question of individual acts. Reducing the problem to individual, isolated

acts encourages blindness to the repeated and systematic violence that has characterized

American history since the beginning, whether it be by the lynch mob, the fountain pen or

cultural appropriation and exploitation. If Black people have not thrived in America, it is the

result of their individual failings, and definitely not structural inequalities.

This is reminiscent of the NRA’s typical reaction to the repeated mass shootings over the

years; it is only a deranged ‘lone wolf’ that is the problem. The system is never at fault. Forget

the national glorification of gun culture, extreme violence or the lack of any serious gun control

laws. By this same line of reasoning, if we ignore racism and don’t talk about it, it simply goes

away. Thus, the real racist is the Black blues artist who dares address the pink elephant in the

room, while the white people objecting to any discussion of the matter position themselves as

noble champions of anti-racism. Not only is race avoided, but the concept of white innocence is

reinforced. What is fascinating here is the arrogance displayed by those who benefit from

racism as a group, enabling themselves to claim a moral high-ground while attempting to

silence any debate on the matter. Ironically, although their assertions are framed from a

standpoint of colorblindness, such attitudes only reinforce the work of white supremacy by

denying Black people’s very real experiences with American racism and reifying white people’s

definition of racism above that of non-whites.

Others sought to educate the author by linking the article’s assertions to ‘nationalism’:

Mr. Harris you are recycling 19th century concepts of cultural exceptionalism and superiority that

led to the facist and totalitarian regimes in Italy, Japan and Germany. You are attempting to

create rigid racial discrimination requirements for legitimate entry for cultural "authentic"

expression. This is entirely wrong, morally.... Mr. Harris [owes] every decent person, white and

black, an apology. Americans of all colors will not tolerate racist ideologies to prevail.

As another respondent wrote, “this article represents black nationalism of the worst kind.” The

article is characterized as unpalatable, immoral and downright dangerous, bordering on

totalitarianism and fascism. This person apparently ignored the part where I write that anyone

has the right to express themselves in the genre of their choosing. The main point is that the

positionality of a Black player can never be the same as that of a white player. Eric Clapton is

not Otis Rush, John Mayall is not B.B. King. This commentator’s seemingly willful

misunderstanding permits him to pass over the main thrust of the argument and continue with

his own socialization unexamined. His conclusion positions himself as the ultimate anti-racist

crusader who then demands an ‘apology’ from the author for the transgression of talking about

race. His response makes it clear that his perception of racism (i.e. talking about the

implications of racism) is the only acceptable one. The arrogance and superiority displayed in

dictating to Black musicians, who have historically been on the receiving end of systematic

racism, is quite stunning. Having constructed his straw man (the affront of the author pointing

out race), he grants himself the agency to denounce it and knock it down.

Another commentator linked the contentions of the article to ‘nationalism’ identifying it as

The author’s primary motivation:

All nationalists have the same mentality and narrative. They claim they hail from a noble race of people and possess extraordinary powers that no other tribe, race or nationality are capable of. I know because I come from a country that disintegrated in a civil war as a result of different nationalisms. Nationalism is an archaic way of dealing with one's psychological hangups, a method of self-aggrandizement at the expense of the "other" and the "uninitiated", and it runs contrary to all notions of contemporary ethical behavior.

Here again the straw man rears his shaggy head, enabling him to ignore the issue of race. Now

our attention is turned to the evil spectre of ‘nationalism’, leading us to believe that merely

discussing race and blues music can possibly lead to racism and even war. Having thus

detoured the discourse onto a path of his own device, he is free to declare any engagement with

the issue as being downright ‘unethical’, claiming the moral high-ground. Bias, positionality, and

the topic of racism is left untouched, and now we find ourselves talking about some unnamed

civil war in a foreign land combined with a diagnosis of the author’s psychosis motivated by

‘self-aggrandizement’. To do all this work requires a considerable amount of bending and

twisting, yet I found that these men consistently proved themselves up to the task. However,

unlike concrete, building with straw requires much less heavy lifting.

Several respondents complained that the author made ‘skin color’ a litmus test for blues

authenticity, as if ‘color’ and ‘race’ were essentially the same. Here we see working class white

people from broken homes being magically transformed into an oppressed class. The point of

the article is missed entirely:

“You're a joke, man. I know a lot of white people that were raised in single parent families that

worked menial jobs. But those people can't play the blues because of the color of their skin,

because it happens to be white? You just proved that you're a damn racist, man. Thank you. You

proved it all by yourself with what you said. Man you are a phony and a disgrace to your race,

man.”

Again we see a glossing over of my explanation that yes, white people can and do play the

blues. The fact that white people have suffered at all is offered as proof enough for the above

writer to claim their ‘right’ to play the blues. Since blues is equated with suffering one can easily

skip over thousands of happy blues songs about love, joy, hope and triumph. As bluesman

Brownie McGhee once declared, “the blues is not a dream, the blues is truth.” The common

trope of blues as being essentially the pitiful lamentations of poor, illiterate southern negroes

lurks just beneath the surface, only to be transformed into a universal right for suffering white

folks to claim as their own. Anyone can play it because it is really just ‘sad’ music. Any deeper

engagement of these underlying assumptions is painted as ‘disgraceful’ to the entire Black race.

Another commentator wrote,

It isn't about skin color at all. It's about what experiences one brings to the table. Do we think that

a prisoner in solitary confinement doesn't know the blues? How about the 9/11 widow? Note that

color of skin or ethnic history has no impact on that. Was this spectacular art form started by

people of color in the fields and in bondage? Yep, without question.

It is notable that while denying that ‘skin color’ (i.e. race) has anything to with historical issues of

power dynamics in the blues, this respondent avoids using the words ‘Black people’ or

‘African-Americans’. By using the currently accepted term, ‘people of color’, we are now led to

re-imagine the slave plantation as being populated by indeterminate ‘colored’ folk of vague

origin. Black people, racism and white supremacy is taken out of the picture, being replaced by

the nebulous concept of skin color. Ironically, this peculiar manifestation of colorblind ideology

allows this writer to deny the implication of race as it relates to blues history.

Yet another category of responses denied that Black culture was the sole progenitor of

the blues. In this reading of blues history, Black musicians only came up with the blues

because of European influence. Here we have a response which attempts to minimize the

Black genesis of the blues, while simultaneously invoking the well-worn ‘angry Black man’ trope:

This music was completely American in every sense of the word.... the product of a melting pot.

Socially and culturally the blacks brought their own experience to it, and their voice, there's no

denying that. But remember that the blues, as we have heard it for the last 85 years, uses the

musical harmonies of the European culture. To call it purely the product of just one culture,

especially with the anger that Corey is using is superficial.

In this response we are treated to a re-writing of history that denies the intense segregation of

American society by invoking the tired metaphor of the American ‘melting pot’. Obviously, Black

musicians did learn Black repertoire as well as white musical styles, given the financial needs of

many professional Black musicians who entertained whites in social settings. However,

individual cases notwithstanding, there is no historical record of widespread blending of Black

and white communities in the United States. The ‘melting pot’ is simply a comfortable myth.

Segregation against both African slaves and free people of color was the order of the day, and

the United States is still highly segregated. The author of the offending essay is reminded that

within the various styles of the genre in the twentieth century there are definite influences of

European harmony. Yet at the same time, the above commentator refuses to acknowledge any

African influences. Here it is useful to briefly turn to the history of the banjo.

A wholly African instrument, the earliest depiction of the banjo was first depicted in the

painting, The Old Plantation , from the end of the 18th century. Its widespread use among the

African enslaved in the Caribbean and the Americas was the basis for its entree into blackface

minstrelsy, that well-known mockery of Black culture for white amusement. The first form of

mass entertainment in America, touring medicine shows featuring blackface comedians

exposed rural white Americans to what had previously been solely a Black instrument. As a

symbol of blackface minstrelsy, the instrument began to fall out of favor with many Black

communities around the time of Reconstruction in the aftermath of the Civil War. Guitars

gradually replaced the banjo in many quarters as Black folk sought to move beyond the pain of

slavery that minstrelsy represented. At the same time, rural whites ‘discovered’ it and adopted

its tunings and playing techniques (‘frailing’ and ‘clawhammer’ styles) to fit their repertoire.

Moreover, the music was already in existence prior to the standard I-IV-V chord progression that

characterizes the genre today. The popular Memphis bandleader WC Handy is widely credited

for this innovation in the early years of the 20th century. As the electric bluesman Little Milton

explained in Debra Desalvo’s book, The Language of the Blues: From Alcorub to Zuzu,

“W.C. Handy created sequences — verse, chorus, et cetera. But the old timers didn’t really play

that way. John Lee Hooker, he didn’t play by bars, he didn’t count — he just made a change

whenever he felt like it. He didn’t necessarily rhyme all his words, neither. Whatever he was

thinking, whatever came up, that’s what he was singing. I think Handy was trying his best to make

the songs seem as professional as possible, yet also simple to play, so he put bars to the music

where you could count. Twelve bars with a turn-back.” (17)

The blues was fully formed within Black culture before the introduction of chord changes. Any

attempt to erase the African foundation of the music necessarily ignores the true history of race

relations in America and Black agency in the birth of the blues.

Similarly, yet another commentator resorted to his own re-telling of history when he

responded,

There would be no blues or jazz as we know it without black slaves living in the U.S., using

"white" instruments and assimilating folk and popular music elements of other cultures that live

here. The proof of that is that nothing similar to American blues existed in Africa. B.B. King said

that a lot of white blues guitarists can run circles around black ones, but they can't sound as

authentic as black singers. Well, he's wrong about the second part of the sentence since Jack

Bruce and Joe Cocker certainly sound better and more blues-authentic to so many listeners than

B.B. King himself.

Yet again, we can detect not a small amount of ignorance and arrogance in the declaration that

“nothing similar to American blues existed in Africa”. It is doubtless that this self-appointed

expert had ever seriously listened to the music of Ali Farka Toure, Lobi Traore or Bassekou

Kouyate. Similarly, he seems unaware that the music of Skip James, Robert Pete Williams, RL

Burnside or Otha Turner did not strictly adhere to the widely vaunted I-IV-V chord changes

introduced by W.C Handy. His conclusion that the Scotsman Jack Bruce or the Englishman Joe

Cocker sound “better and more blues-authentic” than the Mississippi-born and bred B.B. King is

nothing short of astounding. Overall, his response betrays an astonishing ignorance of Black

history such as his assertion that ‘black slaves’ used ‘white instruments’ and merely assimilated

the music of other cultures to create the blues. Black agency is simply erased, while the

influence of white culture is glorified as an improvement upon anything that even B.B. King

could come up with.

Another response indulged in the ‘melting pot’ metaphor to compensate for his lack of

comprehensive knowledge on the subject:

[The] blues as we know it is a conglomeration of so many influences, black, white, brown, red,

yellow, purple etc.. Old American was a gumbo of diversity and archetypal human experience and

for anyone to stake ethnic exclusive claims to the root of a folk music form can really lead us all

into a dead end corner. All are welcome and entitled.

The main intent here is to educate the author and minimize any Black claim to blues as being

the product of Black culture. Curiously, he invokes a range of colors (even purple! ) in his

clumsy attempt to discuss the impact of different cultures in the development of the blues. In

this creative re-telling, segregation and race and class differences did not exist, being elided by

the nebulous concept of an ‘old American gumbo’. To him, the blues is universal and can not

be characterized as essentially Black. As such, anyone can do it and anyone is entitled. Again,

a strange colorblind ideology combined with historical ignorance is presented as a perfectly

reasonable explanation for denying the essential nature of the genre. We are instead subjected

to another artful denial of Black agency in the production of Black culture in the name of

preserving a white supremacist reading of blues history. Race is such a vexing concept that it

must be removed from the equation to mollify white feelings of superiority. If we don’t

acknowledge it, it ceases to be a factor. With race and Black people removed from the picture,

he is free to declare that ‘all are entitled.’ Like a homesteader who must do the hard work of

hacking away the underbrush, cutting down trees and burning out the stumps, he strikes his

claim and prepares it for exploitation by the dominant society. Sadly, he would rather do this

work of verbal gymnastics than attempt to explore the implications of racism and the Black

foundations of the blues.

🎶🎵🎶🎵🎶

The fact is that all people bring their specific ethnic group histories to their musical

practice. Yes, all people suffer, yet we all don’t suffer in the same way from the same problems.

The white experience is not the same as the Black experience in America, and it never has

been. When a white performer performs in a Black musical style, it is impossible to check his

positionality as a member of the white race at the door. The same goes for the Black performer.

Though no one needs a permission slip to play music from other cultures, we each take our

personal and family histories with us whatever we do. We can’t run away from ourselves.

Writer Paul Garon asks,

“ Is it the same when a black man like Chuck Berry sings that he went ‘across Mississippi clean,’

as when a white man like Elvis Presley sings the same lyrics in the same song? Hardly! Getting

‘across Mississippi clean’ has a whole accumulation of meanings when sung by a black

[performer], meanings that just don't exist for a white performer.” (1)

Musicking in America has never existed in a vacuum, insulated from the realities of racial

oppression. In the context of a deeply violent system of historical white supremacy that is

enshrined by law and interpreted by the courts in ways that serve to protect white economic and

social privilege, the positionality of the white musician is a determining factor in how they

approach the social, economic and historical issues surrounding the performance of blues

music. American racism and its impact on white people’s socialization is as natural as water in

the ocean. However, simply saying it doesn’t exist won’t save one from drowning. It is a

foundational reality that we ignore at our peril..

There is an apparent confusion - whether legitimate or deliberately artificial - between

race and skin color, even though this distinction is not supported by history or popular opinion.

The ‘one drop-rule’ that forms the baseline of racism in the United States dictates that one need

not be phenotypically Black in order to be considered as a Black person in terms of the law or

societal perception. American slave plantations were filled with people who were phenotypically

‘white’ but whose ancestry was not ‘pure’ by the rigid standards of white supremacy (Sally

Hemmings can you hear me?). In a slavocracy in which political and economic power was

based on racial identity, such designations were essential to the continuation of white

domination over land, property and resources. Cheryl Harris writes in “Whiteness as Property”

of Homer Plessy, the plaintiff in the case of Plessy vs. Ferguson , whose plea stated that "the

mixture of African blood [was] not discernable in him."' (41) This case took place against the

backdrop of a long history of New Orleans’ racial admixture between African, European, and

native American populations, such that skin color alone was never a reliable qualifier for

whether or not a person could be seen as Black or white under Louisiana law. Simply put,

Black folk have always presented in a variety of colors, from ‘high yella’ and ‘redbone’ to

‘chocolate brown’ and ‘blue black’. What we know as ‘the Black race’ can never be reduced to

simply a matter of skin color. It is more than skin deep. Simplifying the argument in this way

again serves to deny the reality, impact and complexity of racism’s effect on socialization. The

straw man of skin color is a convenient way to brush away a deeper consideration of the issue,

transforming the author’s argument as being about an obsession with ‘color.’

Even today there are white people in America who would be considered legally Black

according to the restrictive definition of racial/genetic heritage constructed over time in the

ultimate interest of consolidating white social and economic hegemony. In my own family, there

are people who could have passed for white but because their ‘blood’ could be legally verified

as being ‘mixed’ were subject to the same restrictive laws, covenants and social conventions

that served to oppress the blackest Americans of African descent. Of course, they could have

chosen to move away, eschew any family ties with their darker kin and begin life anew as white

people. However, they chose to be identified with the group into which they were born, even if it

was against their self interest. It seems inconceivable that white Americans are completely

unaware of this. Conflating race with skin color is a classic red herring - a convenient way to

sidestep the deeper questions of heritage and identity. The dominant discourse is thus

protected from any challenges.

For a sizable portion of blues-loving whites, Black musicians’ questioning of white

people’s unquestioned liberty to appropriate traditionally Black musical styles is racism. There

is also the assumption that white people’s positionality as offspring of broken homes or as

members of the working class are enough to qualify their ‘right’ to play the blues. Such

assertions serve to minimize the unique nature of the blues as a cultural product of Black

history, ignoring any differences between Black pain as a result of racism and white misfortune

in a society where they are the dominant group. Whenever Black folk have dared to speak up, it

is often called ‘pulling the race card.’ However this is exactly what these respondents are doing

in their objection to a Black musician talking about his experiences and observations of racism.

DiAngelo’s concept of white fragility is in play here, demonstrating why it is often extremely

difficult for white people to talk about racism. The socialized arrogance of white dominance is a

barrier for white peoples’ understanding of Black perspectives about racism.

When racism is called out, anger and defensiveness is the predictable result. DiAngelo

asserts that the main concept driving white people’s reluctance to acknowledge racism is the

racist = bad/not racist = good binary. Indeed, no one in any society wants to be seen as being

‘bad’, so white people can absolve themselves from having to do the work of being truly

anti-racist, since ‘they are not racist.’ In this way we can see this cry of ‘racism’ as simply a

rejection of any opinion that upsets the dominant group discourse. The entrenched legal and

social realities that reify whiteness are not dealt with. Individualism also plays an important role.

In her essay, “What Makes Racism So Hard for White People to See”, DiAnglo writes that white

people are socialized to think of themselves as individuals and not members of a group. This

means that if they do not deem themselves as participating in individual racist acts, then racism

is necessarily absent. The pervasive effect of segregation can not be understated. Growing up

in an all-white environment normalizes whiteness as existing outside of race, i.e. “we are all just

human.” By this logic, if ‘people of color’ are not present, then race is not present. Thus, there is

no racism. Therefore race is something, ironically, that is brought to white spaces by ‘people of

color’ since it is they who ‘possess’ race and white people are ‘just human’. In this highly

controlled and heavily sheltered environment, it is racist to even talk about racism. Overall,

DiAngelo contends that white people’s socialization and lack of experience with racism

conditions them to expect and demand racial comfort. When this expectation is compromised,

reactions such as anger, defensiveness and hostility can ensue. As a result we have the irony

of white people who feel qualified to declare the presence or absence of racism when they as a

group are the least qualified to ascertain what racism is or isn’t. These conscious and

unconscious behaviors and modes of thought ensure that Black attempts at self-determination

and valorization are effectively nipped in the bud. The end result is the continuation and

strengthening of white supremacy, which emerges unscathed every time.

But whose definition of racism are we using? We need a deeper examination of what

racism is and how it operates. Is it merely an individual occurrence, or is it a social structure

that affects all relations between different racial groups? Is racism a phenomena that

specifically upholds white supremacy, or can Black people use it as a tool to dominate another

group in the same ways that it is wielded by whites? Consider Omowale Akintunde’s definition:

“Racism is a systemic, societal, institutional, omnipresent, and epistemologically embedded

phenomenon that pervades every vestige of our reality. For most whites, however, racism is like

murder: the concept exists, but someone has to commit it in order for it to happen. This limited

view of such a multilayered syndrome cultivates the sinister nature of racism and, in fact,

perpetuates racist phenomena rather than eradicates them.” (168 )

Since whites as a group have never been subordinate to Black people, they have never had to

develop strategies for dealing with racism. Additionally, living in an intensely segregated society

means that most white people can go their entire lives without really knowing any Black people

or how racism affects Black lives. This is the basis of the fragility that they demonstrate when

they are called out on racist behavior. In White Fragility, Diangelo writes that “racism is a

society-wide dynamic that occurs at the group level”. (22) Racism is a team sport. Any cursory

observation of how the system of racism operates in society reveals the ultimate objective: white

domination. Black people have never possessed the property of whiteness, so although it is

entirely possible for them to hold prejudices or in certain circumstances even discriminate

against an outside group, they do not have the power to oppress any group in the ways that

they themselves have been historically restricted from property ownership, legal rights and civic

participation due to their racialized identity imposed upon them by the dominant power structure.

This power only resides in those who possess the property of a whiteness that was violently

established through conquest and domination and codified by law. Indeed, as the example of

the one drop rule shows us, to be white is to be absent of any provable trace of Blackness, this

being the ultimate prerequisite for group success.

This conceptual system is so pervasive and powerful that even though exceptions to the

rule do exist and are constantly held up by the white mainstream as advancement for the entire

race - the election of Barack Obama or the existence of numerous rich Black athletes and

entertainers come to mind - these isolated, individual examples of success do nothing to upset

the status quo nor do they liberate all Black people from racism/white supremacy. This is not to

say that all whites are automatically members of an elite class solely by virtue of their

possession of whiteness. As Harris asserts, it means only that “whiteness retains its value as a

‘consolation prize’: it does not mean that all whites will win, but simply that they will not lose, if

losing is defined as being on the bottom of the social and economic hierarchy - the position to

which Blacks have been consigned.” (53)

This conceptual system is so pervasive and powerful that even though exceptions to the

rule do exist and are constantly held up by the white mainstream as advancement for the entire

race - the election of Barack Obama or the existence of numerous rich Black athletes and

entertainers come to mind - these isolated, individual examples of success do nothing to upset

the status quo nor do they liberate all Black people from racism/white supremacy. This is not to

say that all whites are automatically members of an elite class solely by virtue of their

possession of whiteness. As Harris asserts, it means only that “whiteness retains its value as a

‘consolation prize’: it does not mean that all whites will win, but simply that they will not lose, if

losing is defined as being on the bottom of the social and economic hierarchy - the position to

which Blacks have been consigned.” (53)

Diangelo’s critique of colorblindness elucidates this line of thinking well. In writing about

this new philosophy of the post-civil rights era, she states,

“One line of [Reverend Martin Luther] King’s speech in particular - that one day he might be

judged by the content of his character and not the color of his skin - was seized upon by the white

pubic because the words were seen to provide a simple and immediate solution to racial

tensions: pretend that we don’t see race, and racism will end. Color blindness was now promoted

as the remedy for racism, with white people insisting that they didn’t see race or, if they did, that it

had no meaning to them.” (41)

The result of color blind ideology actually strengthens racism/white supremacy. “ To define race

reductively as simply color, and therefore meaningless, however, is as subordinating as defining

race to be scientifically determinative of inherent deficiency.” (63) Paul Garon’s observations

are helpful in understanding the volatile mix of colorblindness and talking about racism. He

writes,

“ many of these color-blind whites are really resisting the importance of consciousness of race and

race matters, with all the nagging reminders of racism contained therein. They believe that by

refusing to use race as a criterion for anything, they are being the ultimate non-racists, but they

are actually blinding themselves to the complexity of racial issues.” (1)

Another implicit assumption in such commentary is the idea that white people are the ultimate

arbiters of the authenticity of any ethnic group. As we will see below, such claims have a long

history in the American law and social life.

Consider Cheryl Harris’s writing about the legal case of Mashpee Tribe vs. the Town of

Mashpee, wherein the tribe sued to recover land that a small group of Indians had sold to a

group of non-Indians in violation of a federal statute that barred conveyance to non-Indians

without federal government approval. Unfortunately for the Mashpee Indians, a judge ruled that

they were not a ‘true’ tribe under the laws of white society at the time that the suit was filed.

The suit was summarily dismissed.

“The Mashpee's experience was filtered, sifted, and ultimately rendered incoherent through this

externally constituted definition of tribe that incorporated outside criteria regarding race,

leadership, territory, and community.248 The fact that the Mashpee had intermingled with

Europeans, runaway slaves, and other Indian tribes signified to the jury and to the court that they

had lost their tribal identity.” (59)

No consideration was allowed for the Mashpee’s definition of what constituted Mashpee

identity. White law and the prevailing opinions of white society had the final say:

“for the Mashpee, blood was not the measure of identity: their identity as a group was manifested

for centuries by their continued relationship to the land of the Mashpee; their consciousness and embrace of difference, even when it was against their interest; and, their awareness and

preservation of cultural traditions.250 Nevertheless, under the court's standard, the tribe was

"incapable of legal self- definition.” (ibid)

Returning to our commentators, their positionality as a member of the dominant race gives them

the privilege to judge who is the right Black person to play blues and who is inauthentic based

upon criteria that they alone control and define. Perhaps such arrogance would not be so

problematic were it a two way street. Can Black people who play or listen to classical music

(think of Awadagin Pratt, or Leontyne Price) pretend to be gatekeepers for 18th and 19th

century European music? No, this is not our collective social reality. Rather, it is the essential

positionality and peculiar property of whiteness in America that permits white people to define

what is and is not representative of European culture. This same whiteness reserves for them

the right to say what is authentically blues or authentically Black. Their word is the final word.

Unlike blackness, which has never been valorized in America, whiteness is prized above all

other properties.

So how do we move forward? Black people must continue to tell the truth about racism

and white people must get over their problem of talking about it. For this to happen,

expectations of racial comfort must be discarded. Interest in Black history must go beyond the

simplistic broad strokes that characterize slavery as the beginning of Black history and

culminating in the triumph of colorblindness imposed by the post-Civil Rights era. Though Black

folk aren’t perfect, the reality is that racism is not their creation. It is a system that upholds white

domination, and as we have seen in the above comments, many blues-loving white fans are not

exempt. Only white people and the institutions they control have the power to end anti-Black

racism. As a social illness, and a profound manifestation of neurosis, it permeates American

society from top to bottom. The blues is not exempt.

The ways in which white people have historically engaged with the blues and other Black

musics are heavily characterized by this the legacy of slavery, Jim Crow, colonialism and

racism. White people must honestly accept and address the privilege afforded to them by a

system that has always positioned being white as winning and being Black as losing. This

privilege and this history must be talked about. If it is ignored, the sore will only continue to

fester and metastasize. It will undoubtedly be a long, hard road to freedom. The system was

not constructed overnight and only God knows how long it will take to deconstruct it. But this is

the work that must be done. Thankfully, the truth of the blues is the inspiration that we need to

keep on keeping on. As countless bluesmen and women have declared in song, “the sun gon’

shine on my backdoor one day.” Until that day….

⭐⭐⭐

The blues aren’t pessimistic. We’re prisoners of hope but we tell the truth and the truth is dark.

- Dr. Cornel West

Bibliography

Desalvo, Debra. The Language of the Blues: From Alcorub to Zuzu . New York, Billboard Books,

2006.

DiAngelo, Robin. White Fragility . Boston, Beacon Press, 2018.

DiAngelo, Robin. “Why is it So Hard for White People to Talk About Racism.” Huff Post , 30 April

2015,

https://www.huffpost.com/entry/why-its-so-hard-to-talk-to-white-people-about-racism_b_

7183710.

Garon, Paul. “White Blues.” Bluesworld Online , 1994,

http://www.bubbaguitar.com/articles/whiteblues.html.

Harris, Cheryl. “Whiteness as Property.” Harvard Law Review , vol. 106, no. 8, 1993, p. 85.

Harris, Corey. “Can White People Play the Blues?” Blogspot , 2015,

https://bluesisblackmusic.blogspot.com/2015/05/can-white-people-play-blues.html .

Hoffman, Lawrence. “At the Crossroads.” Guitar Player , August, 1990.

From Me to You

Published By; Lamont Jack Pearley

From Me to You: The Power of Storytelling and Its Inherent Generational Wealth

In this episode, I speak with Deidra R Moore Janvier, Esq. about her new book, From Me to You: The Power of Storytelling and Its Inherent Generational Wealth.

Deidra R. Moore-Janvier, Esq.

From Me to You is the answer to one crucial question: “So, Mom, what exactly was slavery about?” asked the author’s young son after learning of the atrocities of the Holocaust and slavery. Faced with the formidable challenge of answering her son’s question, Deidra devoted herself to exploring African American history with the end goal of creating a teachable moment. Starting with Ida B. Wells and ending with President Barack Obama, From Me to You features illustrations and short biographies of the most prominent 19th and 20th-century civil rights activists, centering their voices with quotes and affirmations anchored in the time in which they lived. Through stories about family, faith, and the power of multigenerational unity, From Me to You explores the legacy of slavery in America from the viewpoint of enslaved Africans and their descendants. Deidra proves that African American history is American history and that these two concepts rely on each other for posterity.

Author Deidra R. Moore-Janvier, Esq. exemplifies the Bronx area. As an African American mother, wife, and advocate for change, Deidra set out on a journey in 2020 to teach young minds “the value in investing in themselves and in learning about their history.” Deidra is no stranger to self-investment. As a single mother in 1996, she quit her job to attend law school. Upon graduating from the City University of New York School of Law (CUNY School of Law), Deidra worked as a public defender with The Legal Aid Society in Bronx County. In 2004, she established the Law Offices of Deidra R. Moore, P.C. Her work is deeply informed by her personal and professional experiences. 

http://www.deidramoore.com/about/

Buffalo Soldier Project, San Angelo Texas, and Black History

By Lamont Jack Pearley

In this episode of the African American Folklorist, I speak with Sherley Spears, NAACP Unit 6219 President, Vice President of the National Historic Landmark Fort Concho Museum Board, and founder of the Buffalo Soldier Project. The National Historic Landmark Fort Concho Museum preserves the structures and archeological site features for pride and educational purposes, serving the San Angelo, Texas community. 

Sherley Spears

NAACP Unit 6219 President, Vice President of the National Historic Landmark Fort Concho Museum Board, and founder of the Buffalo Soldier Project.

One significant story coming from Fort Concho and the San Angelo community is the contributions and community development of and by the Buffalo Soldiers. On July 28, 1866, Congress passed the Army Organization Act, allowing African American men including many former slaves to serve in the specially created all-black military units following the Civil War.  The original troops were 9th and 10th Cavalry and the 38th, 39th, 40th, and 41st Infantry.  In 1869, the four infantry regiments were reorganized to form the 24th and 25th Infantry. Eventually, troops from each of these regiments served at Fort Concho. These black troops would be given the name ”Buffalo Soldiers," allegedly, by the Indian tribes because of their dark, thick, curly hair resembling buffalo hair. Fort Concho, originally established in 1867, was built for soldiers protecting frontier settlers traveling west against Indian tribes in the area.

Buffalo Soldiers

Buffalo Soldiers of the American 10th Cavalry Regiment

A notable member of the San Angelo community was Elijah Cox, a retired soldier from the 10th Cavalry. While never stationed with the Buffalo Soldiers at Fort Concho, Cox lived and worked many jobs there. He was a well-known musician and played for many of the socials and events held at Fort Concho. Elijah was a fiddler, he and his son, Ben played for all of the dances at the Fort. Elijah, born and remained a freeman, settled in San Angelo, Texas, and would learn the songs of the slave from ex-slaves now soldiers. Elijah would become the traditional bearer of these songs as he played fiddle, guitar, and sang. You can hear my podcast on his story here. 

FULL NEW EPISODE FEATURING SHERLEY SPEARS

These, and much more crucial historic narratives are being preserved by Ms. Sherley Spears and the organizations adamant of raising the awareness of African American contributions to the establishment and sustainability of Fort Concho & San Angelo, Texas. 

Gentrification

Written By: Dhane Pearley

Gentrification reflects how communities change. The question always is how good or bad it is for the community. Pictures provide different stories related to Gentrification. They include building improvements, more people, more businesses and different races living together. Gentrification can remove the past and appear to make a brighter future for a community. Gentrification can turn small affordable living neighborhoods into unaffordable expensive communities. There are many different perspectives on Gentrification, I will explain how my neighborhood in Bed-Stuy Brooklyn is changing and how the changes are affecting people:  how are these changes good and bad for Brooklyn?

Gentrification” is a social justice problem and the manifestation of inequality.” According to “There goes the Neighborhood “one argues that Gentrification is a polite way of saying the white people are moving in! Bed-Stuy is a much different place today from what it once was today.

Interview: Shawn Morrison

Topic: Historical Significance

In my interview with Shawn, she explained to me that she recently discovered that her block was changed into a historical community.  Shawn can no longer make major improvements to her home without prior approval. She only can make small changes like painting your house a different color.

After Shawn finished talking about historical communities, she started to tell me about some historical landmarks like the Weeksville Museum. When Shawn was younger the Weeksville Museum used to be houses that people lived in. Another landmark Shawn told me about was Laurel Magnolia Tree. The tree was located at 769 Lafayette Ave, Brooklyn. She told that this Tree was a designated landmark in New York City. This tree was planted in 1885 by William Lenken and still is in good shape.   

interview: Justin Morrison

Topic: Economic Applications 

231 Macdonough street

ask: $2.35 - sold: $2.45

4.26% above ask 

Date :5/3/17

1 unit - 20 x 40 

321 Stuyvesant Ave 

Ask: $1.25m - sold: $ 1.37m

6.96% above ask

Date 12/1/17

1 unit - 19.5 x 45

These homes above were once affordable and actual were offered as apartments for rent. Justin explained to me that many landlords in Bed-Stuy use to rent rooms inexpensively.  The only downside was that you were required to share the bathroom and kitchen.

I think Gentrification has made my neighborhood look different from when I was younger. There are some nice restaurants, cool clothing shops and gyms.  My parents always complain about no parking and too many bikes in the street.  There are still some black families, but most have moved out.  When I was younger the neighborhood was nice too just different.  Less joggers and more music.  Gentrification in my community has changed the look of Bed-Stuy. I don’t think its good when people can no longer afford to live where they grew up at or enjoyed living at.  Gentrification has not been the best thing for Bed-Stuy.

Bibliography 

• Corcoran/ 2018 Homeowners Handbook Bedford-Stuyvesant-Crown Heights-Prospect Lefferts Garden The DIMA LYSIUS Team.

The Gentrification of Hip Hop

 by: Courtland Hankins

photo credit: Gordon Cowie

From The South Bronx… The South-South Bronx… to... SoBro… So SoBro….Hip Hop… Black America’s most recent cultural response to the oppressive history we are all so familiar with. This piece is on the current gentrification of Hip Hop. Gentrification is defined as follows: the process of renovating and improving a house or district so that it conforms to middle-class taste. In street terms, it means that white folk has decided that they want to move into Black neighborhoods and reshape the community to meet their values. There is usually not much Black folk can do about it, because the truth is, this system, politically and economically is controlled by White folk. We are treated as guests in their house! Honestly, the term guests would be an overstatement. We are treated as servants in their houses. Lord Jamar, whose feud with Eminem is well chronicled, stated that Eminem is a guest in the house of Hip Hop. He’s saying that all “White folk who participate in Hip Hop are guests in the “Culture” - that White folk should not get it twisted and think that they have any controlling interest in the “Culture” - no matter how skilled they may be. I agree with that sentiment wholeheartedly. There are very few things of value in this construct that Black people control. Hip Hop is one of those things. I would say we control it politically, however, we do not control it economically - and that is where the battle is being waged. White folks' economic might is formidable, and their desire to use that might to control the narrative of something that they deem valuable is challenging to offset. I believe it is of the utmost importance that we do not allow the battle to be lost. It is ok to claim what we created as our own, to raise our baby if you will. White folk has been used to controlling our babies and using them as they see fit, see slavery for a reference. I’ll say it again, see slavery as a reference.

 White folk is irresistibly drawn to Hip Hop, just like all of our cultural creations that preceded Hip Hop, i.e., Blues, Jazz, Rock n Roll, etc. Hip Hop is a bit different because we have created a gate around the “culture” and have been able to maintain our keepership. Some White folk like to claim that they’ve been apart from the beginning as if to say they are not guests in the house. Ironically, white folk is a very important reason why Hip Hop exists. No, I’m not talking about cat’s like Rick Rubin or Paul “C” McCosky – who’s early contributions I respect very much by the way, and more modern-day artists like Eminem and the late Mac Miller (my favorite white rapper) – I’m talking about the oppressive system of white supremacy, who without white people behind that there would be no such thing as Hip Hop as we know it. Funny story, I was at a Hip Hop event this past summer and one of the panelists suggested that we should be grateful for the slavery, jim crow, etc. because it was that experience that brought us, Hip Hop. Nahhh, I don’t endorse that statement in the least bit, however, the point is that without the tragic historical experience, Hip Hop would not have been created to be a response to it. I mention this because it does give us a true representation of White folk’s initial relationship with Hip Hop. Hip Hop is a voice for the voiceless, a medium for the oppressed to testify to their experience, to express their needs, desires and wants, to speak life into their dreams. Hip Hop was and is a phenomenal force of manifestation. But like everything the original people create and every valuable resource at our disposal, the colonizers must control it. Make no mistake about it, colonizer and gentrifier are closely related and both move in the same spirit. They share the ultimate goal of controlling the landscape and eventually replacing the native with their likeness – on all fronts. Hip Hop is the most powerful culturally creative force on the planet and has a World Bank filled with deposits of mind currency. It is explicitly a Black thing that wields tremendous influence, much of it untapped. Hip Hop is a Black Planet, both feared and desired by the colonizer for 1: it’s the ability to destroy the colonizer and 2: because of their envy of their inability to create something of such natural value. So what does the colonizing mind do? It gentrifies. It creates a plan to control and eventually consume the resource. How is this currently happening?

photo credit: Derrick Treadwell

 It’s been going on since the beginning. Hip Hop is just a continuation of the warfare between the so-called black and white construct in this country. The battle for the white supremacist system to control the mind and spirit of black folk and for black folk to take back control of our mind and spirit. Twenty-five years ago, Ice Cube said in an interview with ABC News, ‘that although the white corporate structure is making the most money, what Hip Hop has to give is deeper than money." He mentioned that "Hip Hop distributes information and circulates mental money. Hip Hop has the minds of masses, and that is more valuable than the fiat currency at the end of the day." However, the White structure still has the money and a long-standing history of utilizing it’s monetary and institutional influence to break down the strongest of Black movements. That is where the gentrification of Hip Hop comes in. Gentrification has a friendlier face but is aligned with the same colonizing intent because it is ultimately designed and funded by the colonizing mind. Middle-class White America has been infatuated with Hip Hop since the beginning and has desired to find its place within the “Culture”. Much of the issue is that the infatuation is rooted in an ignorance of Hip Hop’s true roots and purpose, and fawns over the more “shallow” surface side of the “Culture”. It has taken 40 years, but the gentrification of Hip Hop is in full effect. There are more and more White rappers and artistic representatives to coincide with the already existing White majority corporate powerhouse. That is a recipe for a full coup. We cannot let that happen. I repeat we cannot let that happen. That doesn’t mean that white folk or anyone else for that matter can’t participate in Hip Hop. However, it does mean that they must know and to the best of their ability, learn and understand the roots of Hip Hop, the purpose of Hip Hop, in order to play a part in the empowerment of Hip Hop and the larger Black culture it represents. There can be no mistake that Hip Hop is for the empowerment of Black people and through that, it is for the empowerment of the world. That is the order. We’ve seen this happen before, over and over again… from The Blues to blue-eyed Jesus, White folk have mastered gentrification and remixing our creations and history to serve their self-interests. So how do we stop it? Well, that is up to my generation of Hiphoppa’s who are now adults, with children and grandchildren, professionals in places of influence like schools, banks, government, corporations, etc. It is up to us to preserve and realign our “Culture”, facts! We cannot leave Hip Hop out there to be taken, continually exploited. We cannot devalue our creations and our creative force. Not at all. That is why there is a President of Hip Hop. To make sure that our Blues is not in vain, but is the ancestral force energizing Hip Hop to push forward, to stay self-controlled, and to Stay Black!

Mimetic Extraction and Commodification in the Blues

Written By: Corey Harris

So there was a new breed of adventurers who drifted out at night looking for action with a black man’s

code to fit their facts. The hipster had absorbed the existentialist synapses of the Negro, and for practical

purposes could be considered a white Negro.

- Norman Mailer, “The White Negro: Superficial Reflections on the Hipster.”

Much has been said about the influence exerted upon white mainstream culture by blackface minstrelsy in the 19th century. The demise of the genre and the rise of the blues heralded Black folk’s construction of a popular space in which they sang of their real life experiences. Similar to blackface, the blues in mainstream White culture operates as the space in which racial difference is negotiated and utilized to control blackness and direct its energy according to an artist's own cultural aesthetic and worldview. Such blackness is necessarily divorced from the cultural network that birthed it; rather it is necessarily isolated and excised to perform the work required by those who appropriate it. It is precisely because the cultural and historical context is removed that the music can be considered as an object, a product for consumption that can be endowed with whatever meaning the appropriator chooses. It is akin to separating a child from its parents and raising it in the environment of one’s own choosing. Blackface was a tool to announce or assign social status. It was a sonic, comic slave that was hired out to the benefit of anyone seeking to imitate Black people for entertainment, cultural consumption and economic advancement. Numerous writers have already established elsewhere that the mimesis of Black tradition, whether it be the overt mockery of blackface or the imitation of black blues artists by white blues and rock artists, is the foundation of American popular music. Our goal in the pages that follow is to expose the functionality of blackface and blues mimesis as both a source of cultural raw material and a manner of controlling and appropriating the power of melanated skin - blackness. A central premise is that blackface prepared the terrain for the blues aesthetic that followed it in the 20th century. In fact, the modern ‘bluesface’ (Brooks) stance assumed by so many White artists was indebted in many ways to the blackface genre that preceded it: both are mimetic performances of perceived Black culture that served as the crossing point for large amounts of cultural meaning. When we talk of blues mimesis we mean the myriad gestures, speech patterns, bodily movements associated with African Americans that are isolated, commodified and imitated by non-Black actors with access to the mainstream.

Before we proceed any further, let us agree on a clear definition of what mimesis is. I find Taussig’s explanation to be the most concise: the mimetic faculty, the nature that culture uses to create second nature, the faculty to copy, imitate, make models, explore difference, yield into and become Other. The wonder of mimesis lies in the copy drawing on the character and power of the original, to the point whereby the representation may even assume that character and that power. (xv) Our central focus then is to examine and compare how mimesis functions within the domains of 19th century blackface and 20th century White imitations of Black blues styles. The way both traditions operate is to reinforce White culture as superior by highlighting perceived differences from the Other. In the context of white supremacist culture, both genres also represent a way to control the Other. The social and political power of whiteness means that its mimetic interpretations trump (pun intended) the actual culture produced by the culture being copied. Whiteness alone has the power to bestow authenticity, relegating the original to second class status. As Horkheimer and Adorno observed about German imitations of the Jews they despised during WWII, “It makes little difference whether the Jews as individuals really display the mimetic traits which cause the malign infection of whether those traits are merely imputed. (152)

The goal of mimesis in the case of 20th century White blues and 19th century blackface is not faithfulness to an original but rather power over and control of the original being copied. As we shall also see, both genres operate as resources to be utilized in an “authentic” cultural production resulting in a commodity to be sold for a profit. In this way, Black culture has long served as the drinking well to which the White mainstream always returns in order to quench its thirst. It is the energy source for an entertainment industry that depends upon mimesis to make large profits. Blackness is the Ground Zero of authenticity. In Love and Theft, Lott’s analysis of this dynamic betrays some romantic thinking about the temporary effect of mimesis on power relations between the races when he refers to the practice of whites donning blackface in public processions: The dynamic of the processional mask in these instances thus preserves the ascription of certain detested qualities to “blackness” while momentarily paying tribute to their power… (28) This seems a rather romantic notion; my contention is rather than paying tribute to the power of blackness, these acts reinforce the unique positionality of whiteness as the supreme interpreter and presenter of Black image, sound and gesture. This is simply indicative of a desire to maintain power over Black people and has nothing to do with paying tribute to anyone. Indeed, this is in fact an instance of white supremacy utilizing extracted cultural elements to suit its own imperatives. Mimesis in blues and blackface share some interesting parallels in the manner in which they serve to reinforce differences in race and power rather than eliding them. Even before the days of the British Invasion, when the likes of the Beatles, the Rolling Stones, the Kinks and the Who invaded American eardrums, rock musicians learned their craft by imitating Black blues musicians. They regarded the originators of the genre as bearers of the gold standard, the authentic way to express the music. Louisiana-born Kenny Wayne Shepherd is a young White blues-rock player who has achieved both critical and commercial success in the industry. His 2007 release, 10 Days Out documents his travels around the USA to play with African American blues legends such as Honeyboy Edwards, John Dee Holeman and Henry Gray. The album earned Shepherd a Grammy nomination and coveted authenticity. In 2021 the Blues Music Awards rescinded their nomination of Shepherd for best blues-rock artist.

Since 2015 photos of Shepherd alongside his car emblazoned with the confederate flag had circulated widely on the internet. There was no public outcry at the time, but in the environment of America’s most recent racial reckoning, the photos received renewed attention. Now, some onlookers were shocked, some likely pretended to be, and others didn’t understand all the controversy. Since the music is necessarily and conveniently divorced from any fraught racial histories (and White people have no historic obligation in America to NOT be racist) a white blues artist can both display a symbol of anti-Black terrorism and confidently claim (according to his own, internal criteria) that he is not racist. Let’s hear from Shepherd in his own words: Shepherd had said that people of all races loved the car. “The confederate flag can be controversial, but not in this case,” Shepherd told the WSJ at the time. “I get thumbs up from everybody, regardless of race. The African-American community created the music that I play; racism is not a part of my DNA.” He told the Wall Street Journal’s reporter that he got the idea to build a replica using a vintage Dodge after seeing a similar recreation at his friend Kid Rock’s house. “The horn plays the first notes of ‘I Wish I Was in Dixie’s Land,’ just like the TV car,” he said. (Baime) No racism here folks (two thumbs up) ! Given Kid Rock’s reputation as a racist and a Trump supporter, if Shepherd aimed to convince people that he wasn’t racist, this most likely had the opposite effect on many observers. Still, Shepard confidently absolved himself of any racist intentions, and he assures us that the fact that the confederate flag is emblazoned on his favorite vintage car (nicknamed “The General Lee”) is ok. Privilege steps up to dictate its prerogatives and definitions. Up is down, right is left, and the confederate flag is fine. This whitewashed blues mimesis functions in a way that allows two diametrically opposed worldviews to occupy the same space, smoothing out any external contradictions. Whiteness assures us that it’s ok, so why wouldn’t we believe it to be true?

In this artificially curated, diluted, and deracinated domain, blues is used as a refined resource which is then processed to fit the economic imperative of the capitalist system, i.e. the music industry. Black music is simply a commodified product to be manufactured and consumed. Blues is often presented as not being specific to Black historical and present realities but rather as belonging to ‘everybody’. It is a raw material, a resource that has been extracted from its natural environment. Ironically, even though the people whose culture produced the music continue to be racialized, the music functions as a performance (stance, accent, dress, vocal style) that is presented as being devoid of racialism but is rather fully dependent upon centuries of constructed racial meaning.

Since only non-whites are racialized and are thus the ‘possessors of race’, then it follows to reason that white people are ‘just people’ i.e. “everybody.” Thus if no Black people are present, then neither is race. Furthermore, if race is not mentioned then there is no racism. This begs the question: if the music belongs to everybody, then why can’t anybody do it? Positionalities and distinctions are thus elided. The useful meat is cleaned from the bone. Square pegs now fit into round holes, and suddenly confederate flags and blues seem to go together just fine. Blues is used to serve a cultural agenda that is opposed to the Black communities that birthed the genre; often those who are opposed to Black people’s political aims are the most fervent blues fans. The writings of Adorno and Horkheimer regarding German anti-Semitism are instructive in this case, showing that one can both imitate and hate at the same time. They detest the Jews and imitate them constantly.

There is no anti-Semite who does not feel an instinctive urge to ape what he takes to be Jewishness.” (151)

From my own observations as a performer on the blues scene for the last 25 years, there are many White blues fans who identify as politically conservative. In their conditioned embrace of a specific, isolated aspect of Black culture - the music - they are usually opposed to Black political aspirations and indifferent to the realities of anti-Black racism. Several online blues groups have been known to block users who post against police brutality or anything in support of Black rights. Often the reason given is that they don’t want to deal with “politics.” Enjoying the blues is fine, but focusing on the historical and contemporary reasons why Black folk have the blues is widely deemed an offense. Yet these same people enjoy the blues immensely, to the point of paying for lessons, splurging on guitars, and attending expensive festivals, blues cruises, and concerts around the world. Miming Black speech patterns is a crucial part of any blues performance, the goal being not to imitate perfectly, but rather simply to imitate and call attention to difference. Sometimes the line between imitation and mockery becomes a very slippery slope. Hearing white musicians approximate the speech and singing style of imagined old, southern Black folk when you actually grew up around real old, southern Black folk? As the youth today say, “it just hits different.” The irony is that a successful, young, white blues musician is credited with more authenticity than actual Black people who grew up listening to the music during the time that it was popular.

The miming of blues voice and style by the mainstream also fulfills the need for authenticity. There are blues fans who are fervent Trump supporters who are active in blues groups on FB and other online forums. The members clearly love the genre and have invested time and money into their passion. Focusing on Black pain just gets in the way. However, these same people will enthusiastically mime their way through a performance to the extent that they become a different character. When Rick Estrin, the singer and harmonica player for the California-based blues band Little Charlie and the Nightcats gives an interview, he presents as a late middle aged white man, replete with the expected accent and mannerisms. However, once he ascends to the stage to perform, his speech changes drastically to the point that it almost resembles a speech impediment. It becomes clear that the goal of such mimetic displays is to approximate the style and orality of an old Black man. The impression given is one of possession, being inhabited by a puppet master. It is notable that in this case the puppetmaster both creates the spirit doing the possession and provides the body that is to be possessed. It is as if the blackface is just under the surface, the unspoken, inside joke that everyone gets and no one needs to mention. The antiquated mode of dress and mannerism evoke the days of hipsters and zoot suits: mid 20th century urban culture of Black and Chicano youth. Anachronism meets mimetic impulse. Elements are displaced, reassembled, and repackaged. Mailer’s White Negro pays us another visit. This is another manifestation of a long relationship between White and Black culture whereby the White imitation of a blues displaced from Black cultural ethos is transformed into a commodity. This unmooring ultimately allows for easy consumption, appropriation, and repetition by White players. Similar to the implied, artificial melanin of the blackface minstrel’s cork, the ‘black’, coded mannerisms are used like a raw material which is then processed according to the dominant culture’s imperatives.

To be clear, I am not proposing that Shepard or others like him are contemplating their positionalities or always consciously utilizing the blues in this way. My central purpose here is to expose the operating dynamics of the situation as a whole, its operating principles. How can we examine and compare the functionality of blackface and its offspring, the blues in the context of power relations between Black and White?

Writer and musician Elijah Wald provides a pointed critique of pop singer Amy Winehouse, saying that the late Jewish/British singer trafficked in:

a kind of vacuous nostalgia that ‘‘reviv[ed] black musical traditions outside of their original cultural context’’ so ‘‘that the cultural past may be resurrected not to be celebrated or reworked, but to be replaced by new narratives that enshrine white experience and benefit white musicians. (G. Wald 1999, 156)

Of course, Winehouse did not innovate this behavior; this path had already been trod by myriad artists such as Bix Biderbecke, Jimmy Rodgers, Elvis, Gene Vincent, and Janis Joplin, who built their styles on what Daphne Brooks called “sonic bluesface” and what I have called “aural blackface.” Can we imagine a modern blues or jazz singer blacking up their face in order to more fully ‘inhabit’ their ‘role’? The image is ridiculous, no? The anticipated social outrage notwithstanding, this would be totally unnecessary. Although blackface is no longer popularly accepted (its use has largely shifted to the realm of a delicacy privately indulged in secret parties), we are still haunted by its ghost: all of the mannerisms, gestures and repetitions that accompanied the blackface performance are already embedded within the popular culture. It is notable that not only is the visual blackness of the ‘captured’ skin to be controlled during performance; Black gesture, mannerism and orality are also valuable resources to be isolated, re-imagined and re-employed. The effectiveness of the genre lay largely in the interplay between the mimicry of melanated skin (using the artifice of burnt cork makeup) and the constant repetition of re-imagined Black modes of speech and behavior. These are the key elements, the raw materials that comprise a successful mimetic display, an effective blackface performance.

Let us also remember that blackface as a popular entertainment genre endured for more than sixty years in the United States. Accompanied by widely disseminated, printed advertisements, the genre became thoroughly ingrained in popular culture to the extent that even when blackface fell out of favor, the repetition and exaggerated mannerisms that were associated with blackface persisted. Thus a slightly modified aesthetic arose that was established on an older foundation. My point here is that such mimetic behavior persisted in a somewhat modified fashion as “bluesface”, a new type of aural blackface (sans cork) that did the same work of mocking, cultural borrowing, and power displacement when presented as an authentically White expression by numerous blues and blues-rock performers. Blackface was so highly effective that by the 20th century the performance of imagined mannerisms, gestures, and vocal imitations in mimetic performances of Black blues repertoire was the key to establish authenticity among white performers and listeners. The work had already been done. Blackface laid the stones in the pathway to the blues.

Lawtoo’s conception of mimesis as akin to contagion is especially apt at this juncture. He noted that:

mimesis shares some characteristics with viruses: it is linked to reproduction, it infiltrates human bodies in imperceptible ways, and above all, it renders subjects vulnerable to a type of affective contagion that is amplified by proximity with others: anxiety, fear, panic, but also new mimetic gesture and positive emotions like solidarity, compassion, and sympathy. (1)

Considering Lawtoo’s observation, it should perhaps come as no surprise that the correlation of the blues with a virus is common among blues players and aficionados. In many players’ origin stories one often hears about how one first “caught” the blues “bug”. Usually this is attributed to being in congress with others who share an interest in the music, thereby reinforcing group solidarity and increasing the intensity of the “affliction.” Going further, there is a binary nature to the virus rhetoric that is typically encountered when discussing the blues, such that blues is cast both as a poison (i.e. the song,“I'll Never Get Out Of These Blues Alive”) and a cure (John Lee Hooker’s famous lyric, “The blues is a healer all over the world”). This is clearly suggestive of either a creeping toxicity or a restorative homeopathy whereby a small dose leads to assimilation of the contagion and acquired immunity. This is also akin to the idea of ‘the hair of the dog that bit you’ as an antidote to a dog bite. The enduring nature of both blackface and blues mimesis is a testament to their multivalent powers to influence culture and intergroup political relations.

In Brook’s bluesface concept the collision of the two terms is fitting, since both function mimetically in their respective eras as the foundation of any claim to cultural authenticity. Having been excised from history and culture, and vacated of specific cultural meaning, blues is transformed into a tool, a marker of American authenticity to be used and consumed by all for the economic gain of a few. Blues mimesis is in this way a vital proving ground, the bootcamp for popular music. It is indeed a ‘face’, a posture that is assumed in order to gain authenticity. Looking at the larger historical dynamic, the long history of Black bodies and intellect in service to Western capitalist enterprises is the precedent for regarding blues as something anyone can do, regardless of race. Implicit in the act of assuming this face is the idea that the music is not necessarily regarded as a product of Black culture, thus supplanting any claim of cultural or ethnic ownership. Following this conception of musical terra nullius then, it must be that the products of Black creative and intellectual labor do not belong to them but rather to ‘everybody’, i.e. white people with the organized political and socio-economic agency to reinforce this claim. Black folk were just ‘the help.’ Thus, if the music belongs to no one, then anyone can claim the agency to decide who and what is (or isn’t) genuinely blues, right?

Consider the case of Black blues guitarist and vocalist Chris Thomas King. He grew up around his father’s local juke joint in Louisiana, the renowned Tabby’s Blues Box and Heritage Hall. He learned the genre the traditional way under the tutelage of his father. In 2018 King submitted an album to be considered for the Grammy awards. Amazingly, the committee rejected the album on the grounds that it wasn’t blues and King was not a blues artist, case closed. Blues fans and musicians were stunned. A legacy blues performer from the deep South was now being told by a white committee in Los Angeles that he didn’t belong. An entity outside of the African American blues community exercised their gatekeeping power to arbitrarily decide what is the nature of blues authenticity. It became glaringly obvious that Black performers had no power within the mainstream to determine what may be deemed essentially blues.

But how did this door get swung open so wide? Prior to the 1960s, the concept of the white blues singer was unknown. Though white businesses profited from Black talent since the industry’s beginnings, they could not control the Black aesthetic nor bestow authenticity. Black people alone decided who best represented their musical culture. The grassroots Black artist was not feted at Carnegie Hall but rather plied his trade throughout the deep South on the African American ‘chitlin’ circuit’, a network of Black-owned entertainment venues that provided increased economic opportunity and music for Black patrons. However, the advent of the 1960s folk/blues revival meant that increasing numbers of white people in the US and Europe were exposed to this previously obscure music, resulting in increased outside investment and control of the industry. White folk now had their own horse in the race. Following a long history of the mimetic relationship between Black culture and the white mainstream where the former is continuously exploited for the economic and psychological benefit of the latter, the sounds of blackness found in the blues were adopted and appropriated for white consumption.

King acknowledged this ongoing dynamic in a 2018 article he penned about his Grammy experience in which he touched upon the power of the copy to supplant the original and assume the status of authenticity. He wrote that even the great Mick Jagger seemed to be perplexed as to why his fans would rather listen to the Stone’s cover of a Slim Harpo song than the original. Obviously, the fact that Slim Harpo was relatively unknown in the UK, combined with the wealth and white privilege of the English group meant that their version became the definitive version for their listeners. In this manner, the copy becomes the authoritative version, unmooring the original from its essence and redirecting its power for uses specific to the needs of this drastically different demographic than the Black southern listeners of Slim Harpo. As King wrote:

In 1964, for their debut album, the Rolling Stones recorded “I’m A King Bee” by Baton Rouge, Louisiana, trailblazing bluesman Slim Harpo. A few years later, in 1968, Mick Jagger, in his first in-depth Rolling Stone magazine interview said, “You could say that we did blues to turn people on, but why they should be turned on by us is unbelievably stupid. I mean what’s the point in listening to us doing ‘I’m A King Bee’ when you can listen to Slim Harpo doing it?” The irony was, Sir Mick Jagger and Keith Richards’ new album sounded like their earlier albums, but their early albums were ostensibly rock and roll, not blues. However, we in the African American blues community always knew the appellation “rock and roll” was a veiled segregationist term meaning African American blues created by whites for whites.

King’s observation reveals the authority of whiteness in the imitation and presentation of the Other. Although the Stones rose to stardom imitating their idols such as Howling Wolf, Muddy Waters, Chuck Berry and other Black bluesmen, a large majority of mainstream America was totally ignorant of these blues icons until the Stones crossed the Atlantic and introduced White America to the Black peasant music in its own backyard. Being that these listeners were hearing these sounds from the English group first, it was the Stones’ versions of these songs that carried the most authority among their fans. As Greg Tate observed, “The same market forces that provided Caucasian imitators maximum access to American audiences through the most lucrative radio, concert, and recording contracts of the day also fed out whatever crumbs Black artists could hope for.” (3)

Returning to the case of Kenny Wayne Shepherd, it is indeed remarkable that although his nomination for the Blues Music Award was rescinded because of his past association with the confederate flag, this did not in any way jeopardize his perceived authenticity. Contrast this with Chris Thomas King, whose music the Grammy blues committee refused to even categorize as blues. It didn’t matter that King was raised in the blues tradition by a father who ran a renowned local juke joint; he had musically transgressed against the prevailing White definition of blues. In fact, The Blues Music Awards had no problem with Kenny Wayne Shepherd’s association with the confederate flag until the daughter of blues legend Muddy Waters wrote a (now deleted) Facebook post entitled, “The Way My Daddy Looks At a White Man Winning a Blues Foundation Music Award While Waving A F*****g Confederate Flag.” The Blues Foundation who gave out the awards were behind the ball and decided to sacrifice Shepherd to save face. The nomination was rescinded in the ensuing public outcry while Shepherd was seen by many White fans as an innocent victim of the “woke” leftist mob. The point of this exercise is not to prove or disprove whether Shepherd is a racist.

What is most notable about this story is that at no time did Shepherd lose any perceived musical authenticity because of his stated affinity for the ‘Stars and Bars.” There was no perceived contradiction between the blues and the confederate flag. His music is still considered to be solidly representative of the blues tradition by fans and journalists. The selectivity of blues mimesis allows a musician like Shepherd to both eat his cake and have it too. Having extracted the essential elements of blues via mimesis, White artists can enjoy their participation in a Black musical genre and continue to perpetuate symbols of white supremacy without having to fully confront the complicated history that it represents. From the blackface era until today, the isolation and commodification of Black culture have been a lucrative business and a crucible for producing cultural stereotypes, maintaining difference, and controlling social perceptions of blackness. I agree with writer Greg Tate when he highlights the economic imperative woven throughout this endeavor:

. . . capitalism’s original commodity fetish was the African auctioned here as slaves, whose reduction from subject to abstracted object has made them seem larger than lie and less than human at the same time. It is for this reason that the Black body, and subsequently Black culture, has become an hungered-after taboo item. (4)

Blues mimesis in mainstream popular culture often means reduced opportunities for Black artists, since their economic production is tied to the tastes of the majority: numerous, paying white listeners exist who either don’t care if the artist isn’t Black or have a preference for white performers who can adequately reproduce the sound of the genre. Having been shorn of Black cultural baggage, blues sounds and stances are directed to serve a mainstream cultural imperative which nonetheless relies upon the genre as the ultimate bearer of authenticity. As the mimesis of blues styles advances, one wonders. . . are Black people even needed anymore? Their interpretation and positionality of the blues was never sought after; White interpretations only needed to be good enough to satisfy other White people, who represent the large majority of the market. The future of Black representation in the blues is uncertain.

The cold, hard reality is that uncontrolled mimesis within a racist and capitalist system necessarily leads to economic disenfranchisement for Black blues performers. The manner in which mimesis is conducted, by extracting the music from the greater history and interests of Black people and disrobing it of cultural elements, is economically disruptive to Black communities. Thus the dynamic mimics a typical capitalist, industrial scenario where raw materials are extracted (think of cocoa, diamonds, bauxite, bananas) from local communities at little cost. The product is then transformed and sold on the market with a large share of the profits going to those who “discovered” or “developed” the particular artist. Mimesis can be a tool for good or for bad, depending upon the environment in which it is employed and who is deploying it.

To the extent that perceived white culture (i.e. rock n’ roll) appropriates Black musical sound for its own uses, I agree with Paddison who asserts that “mimesis can be seen as an impulse, a mode of ‘identifying with’ rather than necessarily as ‘imitation of’ or ‘representation of’ something external to itself.” (127) Indeed, many White blues artists earnestly participate and are invested in a blues scene that gives their lives meaning and provides them with a few extra dollars. Many of them chose to enjoy the genre unconsciously, avoiding grappling with difficult issues of race and history. Of course, playing music is a good thing, and we have all learned by copying our favorite artists at one time or another. There is nothing wrong with imitation in and of itself. However, given white supremacy and the historic political and economic realities of the music industry, the artists whose positionality and success has bestowed upon them a certain level of authority would be well advised to advocate for justice in the industry. This work has only just begun.

Bibliography

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3. Horkheimer, Max, and Theodor Adorno. 2002. Dialectic of Enlightenment: Philosophical Fragments. N.p.: Stanford University Press.

4. King, Chris T. 2018. “Why won’t the Blues Grammy recognize African American artists?”Spectator. https://spectator.us/book-and-art/blues-grammy-african-american-artists/.

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7. http://contemporarycondition.blogspot.com/2020/05/the-mimetic-virus-rethinking-mimesis -in.html.

8. Lott, Eric. 2013. Love and Theft: Blackface Minstrelsy and the American Working Class. N.p.: New York University Press.

9. Paddison, Max. 2010. Mimesis and the Aesthetics of Musical Expression. Oxford: Music Analysis.

10. Rick Estrin and the Nightcats. n.d. “Rick Estrin and the Nightcats - An Inside Look.” YouTube. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GEXmbNBQcFw.

11. Rick Estrin with Little Charlie and the Nightcats 1992. n.d. “American Blues.” YouTube. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=alyirpPUNQg.

12. Tate, Greg. 2003. Everything But the Burden: What White People Are Taking From Black Culture. N.p.: New Broadway Books.

13. Taussig, Michael. 1993. Mimesis and Alterity: A Particular History of the Senses. N.p.: Routledge.