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In "The New Cultural Politics of Difference," West discusses the motivation
for providing such positive black role models, the necessary conditions
of such models, and the problematic that such conditions introduce.
He refers to this scenario as the "initial Black diaspora response. . .
moralistic in content and communal in character," which endeavors to provide
black positive representations as both a resistance to, and a way of displacing,
past misrepresentations of black communities fabricated by self-serving
white supremacists. West defines these efforts as "courageous yet
limited" in that they are both "assimilationist" and "homogenizing,"
dependent on accepting uncritically nonblack conventions and standards
while subscribing to a system of values that "subordinates Black particularity
to a false universalism.3
West continues by stating that these responses
were not simply cast into simplistic binary oppositions
of positive/negative, good/bad images that privileged the first term in
light of a White norm so that Black efforts remained inscribed within the
very logic that dehumanized them. They were further complicated by
the fact that these responses were also advanced principally by anxiety-ridden,
middle-class Black intellectuals (predominantly male and heterosexual)
grappling with their sense of double-consciousness—namely their own crisis
of identity, agency and audience—caught between a quest for White approval
and acceptance and an endeavor to overcome the
internalized association of Blackness with inferiority. And I suggest
that these complex anxieties of modern Black diaspora intellectuals partly
motivate the two major arguments that ground the assimilationist moralism
and homogeneous communalism just outlined.4
West continues by citing the work of Kobena Mercer, outlining how assimilationist
moralism and homogeneous communalism, and the "Black positive images" that
they attempt to generate, have been principally justified by the reflectionist
and the social engineering arguments:
The reflectionist argument holds that the fight for Black
representation and recognition must reflect or mirror the real Black community,
not simply the negative and depressing representations of it. The
social engineering argument claims that since any form of representation
is constructed—selective in light of broader aims—Black representation
(especially given the difficulty of Blacks gaining access to positions
of power to produce any Black imagery) should offer positive images of
themselves in order to inspire achievement among young Black people, thereby
countering racist stereotypes. The hidden assumption of both arguments
is that we have unmediated access to what the "real Black community" is
and what "positive images" are. In short, these arguments presuppose
the very phenomena to be interrogated, and thereby foreclose the very issues
that should serve as the subject matter to be investigated.5
West's arguments are indeed compelling, providing an insightful point of
departure for the investigation not only of Jack Travis's stated intentions
in compiling this work, but also of the methods that he employs to do so.
There is more truth in Travis's statement that his book is neither critical
nor complete than he might imagine. Yet its uncritical nature cannot
be simply dismissed as beyond the scope of his intentions, for its representation
of black architects, which relies heavily on the perceived necessity of
blacks assimilating to specifically white social and cultural norms and
standards of "professional" (and only secondarily architectural) success
within a mainstream practice, implicitly undermines his very project.
We must question whether such forms of representation at this particular
moment in our collective cultural awareness are liberating, or whether
they have already become part of a history of an awakening black consciousness,
such that their anachronistic reemergence now appears stifling and regressive.
The historic shift I am referring to, which emphasizes the gap between
Travis's logic and a more critically aware transformative consciousness,
is one that has evolved by interrogating the assumptions of equality, questioning
the requisite assimilation of all marginalized groups, and scrutinizing
the supposed neutrality of values that informed the basis of the assimilationist
mentality. This shift found its parallel in feminism, when women
realized that so-called equality was in fact a myth; equality for
women simply meant becoming like men. The perceived neutrality of
the universal was brought into question by making conspicuous the
relations between its power, its ubiquity, and its surreptitiousness, and
by surfacing the absolute correspondence between the specific conditions
of its constructions and the self-serving prototype of the WASP heterosexual
male. For women, an assimilation to this norm could only be exacted
at the price of a massive repression—a repression that endeavored to erase
both the biological differences of women as well as their specific cultural
and personal histories. As Jonathan Culler notes, "The most insidious
oppression alienates a group from its own interests as a group and encourages
it to identify with the interests of its oppressors, so that political
struggles must first awaken a group to its interests and its experience."6
Within this oppressive assimilationalist model, all African-Americans—regardless
of their internal differences—are expected to uncritically identify with
the WASP heterosexual male's experience, which is presented as the most
human one. In so doing, they are encouraged to identify with a subjectivity
that historically defines itself in opposition to blackness, to
relinquish their own cultural and materially inscribed histories, and to
identify against themselves. It is this splitting that is
partially responsible for the anxiety and double consciousness to which
West refers. It is a wound that, to be healed, demands of those like
Travis a resistance to, and critique of, the ideologically charged norms
to which he apparently subscribes (an exorcism of the essential white male
subject implanted within all of us); such a critique finds its basis in
an appeal to the particular physical, psychological, and cultural heritage
of black ethnicity as it is lived through the bodies of individual subjects,
while privileging experience associated with this identity. Deconstruction
as a critical operation has at least shown by its own strategy of hierarchical
reversal how supposed universals can be exposed as specific historical
and cultural constructions that are highly motivated and intended to serve
and maintain the powerful center of a particular group. The operation
of reversal is a way of displacing this center, so that one of the initial
moves for a marginalized group is to understand its critical differences
from this
norm, to establish positive identities from within and not only from without,
and to use these identities as both a position of resistance to, and a
critique of, oppressive models demanding assimilation. This particular
struggle against assimilationist anxiety is specifically historic, marking
an emerging awareness of the need for an affirmative pluralism. It
is not intended to devalue the work of those black women and men who struggled
before us for equality, for it is only by their efforts that this particular
moment has even been attained. Our work, however, should not simply
be to repeat their past but instead to continue their work, which can only
happen by the continual reopening of the assumptions laid out before us. |