Oppression, It’s Digital Now!

Les Indigenes is a film about North African soldiers who fought with the Free French during WWII. It highlights the racism and ungratefulness faced by Arab soldiers who gave their lives to liberate France from Nazism. It’s a good movie, one of those touching films about unappreciated bravery, like those films about black Americans fighting for American ideals only to be reminded of the hypocrisy of US racism. Yall know what movies I am talking about, like Glory and Tuskegee Airmen and shit. We saw the film as part of the Tirailleurs Senegalais Week being held at the French Institute. The Tiralleur Senegalais was the name of the black French colonial army. Although they were from all over French West Africa, they were designated generically—in typically racist fashion—as all “Senegalese.” These soldiers fought for France during world wars I and II, in addition to helping France subdue anti-colonial insurrections from Morocco to Mali to Vietnam. They were paid and trained less, punished more severely, and treated as cannon fodder. For putting up with all of that, they did not receive their pensions and were quickly forgotten by the French government. In fact, the former French president Jacques Chirac, agreed to increase the pension payments after claiming to be inspired by the film. Two days later, we saw the opposite of “Les Indigenes” which although it’s Hollywood for example making the protagonists the most heroic Arab soldiers that ever fought for France. was still realistic and showed the racism of the French Army and criticized colonialism. One of the best shots of the film is when the Arab soldiers are anxiously standing tight in the hold of a ship about to land to invade France and the PA announcer beams about “their” return home, a country none of the soldiers have ever seen. The second film was “La Force Noire” a fluff piece on the history of France’s black African colonial army made by two conservative French historians which avoids criticizing France in the least. It quickly glosses over gross acts of discrimination, like the lesser pay and training, and key events like the Thiaroye Massacre to paint a shiny picture of La Force Noire. More than anything the historians seemed more enthusiastic about showing all of the recently digitized archival footage of black soldiers. The crowd was mostly conservative and laudatory, only one person—a young army cadet—asked about the lack of mention of racism in the French army. The dude’s answer was classic: one, you have to judge these things in context, it was 1914, everyone was racist, you know, two, denial, it wasn’t that bad, they weren’t cannon fodder the French just wanted them to, umm, feel warmer closer to the bullets, three, and my favorite, at least we (the French) weren’t as racist as the Americans. I mean, France allowed black people to die for its freedom, while the US segregated its black soldiers and didn’t deem them worthy of death. Let this be noted as one of the few times when I would prefer American-style racism. I would rather not die for a country that hates me. But look at these amazing images we found in the archives! Look the French teaching Africans to brush their teeth and smoke cigarettes! Look at them killing Asian people for France! It’s digital now!

Goree Diaspora Festival

As much as I hate on Dakar (like Dominicans) I love it. That weekend I went to the Goree Diaspora Festival, a series of movies, conferences and concerts in Goree, an island of Dakar famous for its colonial architecture, car-free streets (cars are illegal) and La Maison des Esclaves or Slave House. It’s a touristy place and I had avoided going because first of all, it’s expensive for foreigners to take the ferry and the slave house is not an experience I was ready to face alone. But I decided to drag myself out there for the festival, although I still haven’t gone to the Slave House. When I arrived at the port in Dakar, I was predictably approached by a tout. I told him that I didn’t want a tour as I was going to the festival, but that if he could get me the Senegalese price for the ferry ticket he could keep the $8 difference. Although he looked like an old drunk he turned out to be quite smart, speaking English and Spanish fluently. He said he had a degree in history and we spoke about slavery and the African Diaspora over beers. I argued that Africans don’t understand the true impact of slavery on its descendants, or even on them. After all—even in purely economic terms—West Africa lost the most productive members of its labor force for centuries, and that’s without even looking at the social and psychological costs. West Africa would not be in the sorry state it’s in now, being the world’s poorest region, if it weren’t for centuries of slavery. Still I have been struck by how ignorant and/or insensitive people out here are about slavery (again a problem that is just as much “ours” as “theirs”). As far as they are concerned, slavery is just another way to get “white” folks to come out here and fork over lots of money, with “roots tourism” being essentially no different than taking folks to the beach or selling them batik. Lonely Planet even warns against the fraudulent claims of the tourist guides in Georgetown in The Gambia who have created a local roots industry by renaming random old buildings to create a “slave prison,” “slave house,” “slave market” and even a “freedom tree,” which would guarantee freedom to all those who touched it; and of course a “visitors’ book” encouraging donations in the memory of slavery. While I can’t knock the hustle (50 Cent and all of them fake studio gangstas need to shut up and come to this part of the world, if they want to see real hustlers), and understand that cats are poor and Black Unitedstatesians are wealthy in comparison, I find such fabrications disgusting. It is an insult to OUR ancestors. Ultimately, these were the relatives of their ancestors who were kidnapped, dehumanized and enslaved. It’s tragic that people would feel the need to pimp the suffering of their own just to make a quick buck. Ironically just as I was telling homey about how I hate people hustling me as a “homecoming African” it was clear that he wasn’t listening still busy thinking about how he could hustle me for some CFA. Once on the island, I met Queen Mother Blakely a remarkable woman, the community mayor of Harlem and a long-time reparations activist. She has been coming to Goree since 1990 and is trying to realize her dream of turning the island into a first-class tourist resort for Black Unitedstatesians to come “home” to Africa and “heal.” I am skeptical, but will keep my mouth shut out of respect to her. While building with her about what had just happened with my “guide” she made an interesting suggestion which still has me thinking. She asserted that Africans would never understand slavery, and we shouldn’t even try to explain. This reminded me of something I remember hearing in one of the classes I took on the African Diaspora. American Blackness and African Blackness are similar, but have different roots. For those of us on the Western side of the Atlantic, our blackness was born the moment whitey threw the shackles on you and crammed you onto a boat i.e. it was born during the middle passages. Thereafter, your ethnic group didn’t matter, you were a slave cause you were black and you were black cause you were a slave. For black folks on this side, they weren’t black until the French came over and started naming streets after their generals, i.e. people saw each other as Wolof, Sereer, etc. until the French told them they were black. Thereafter, they were black because they were colonial subjects and they were colonial subjects because they were black. Now that’s two different forms of blackness, which could justify the logical implication of Queen Mother Blakely’s stance: Pan-Africanism without Africa. I am still not sure if I am ready to go that far, but I can confess that after five months in Senegal it’s getting harder to claim that I am still a Pan-Africanist.

Senegal>Morocco

Mauritania is a transition from “Arab Africa” to “Black Africa” in the conventional wisdom. It’s somewhere between Morocco and Senegal, but in my expert opinion having been to both countries it’s more Senegal than Morocco. Granted it’s the desert and is “The Islamic Republic of” and speak Arabic, and there are all of these Arab looking dudes walking around with those long, puffy robes with the long slits down the side, but even in Nouadhibou 50 km from Morocco I heard mbalax, saw Senegalese-looking people everywhere and it just looked like Senegal, horse-carts, mad dusty, telecentres, dibiteries, unfinished concrete 2-story buildings, and beat-up old French cars. It even smelled like Senegal. Which brings me to one of the most unsavory aspects of Mauritanian society, yup you guessed it, its deep-rooted anti-black racism. Mauritania basically has three main social groups. First there are the moors of Arab and Berber descent (the ones of “purely” Arab descent or Bidan are the elite according to many sources), then there are the former slaves of the Arabs the Haratin or “black moors” (think Othello) who have assimilated Hassaniya and Moorish cultures, and finally the Soudaniens or black Africans who are basically the same ethnic groups that live on the other side of the Senegal River, the Peul, and some Wolof and Soninke. Then again I don’t know how accurate this schematic is since I did meet a woman who self-identied as “black moor” (maure noire) and spoke Hassaniya but also spoke Wolof and French. What’s certain that this kind of ethnic mix is a explosive (just look at similar situations in Chad and Sudan). In 1989 there were race riots which almost threatened to escalate to war with Senegal as the black in the south rebelled against Arab domination of the government and economy, including for example the imposition of Hassaniya. Furthermore, Mauritania has been condemned by international human rights groups as one of the handful of countries worldwide that still tolerates mass slavery. It all just makes me wonder why God chose black people to suffer so much (but then again in Mali and Niger it’s the black folks oppressing the Moors from the desert, so I guess it really is just structural, still black folks have an awful tendency to show up at the bottom of structures worldwide, with Mali and Niger already being among the top ten poorest countries in the world).

Sorry More Politics

It also annoys me that so many Moroccans refer to Moroccan Arabic or darija as argot or slang when it’s the language of the people. Fuhsa, or modern standard Arabic, is spoken only by the educated and (from what I understand, I ain’t no Arabist or nothing, or even speak Arabic except for like three words) is not really spoken anywhere with some Persian Gulf dialects just being close to it. Some Arabic speakers couldn’t understand each other, but for political reasons you can’t say the truth which is that most “Arabic” speakers don’t speak the same language. Which brings me to the other side of the language issue in Morocco: Berber. Or rather the different Berber dialects which are spoken by many Moroccans. A bit of Moroccan history: many groups have invaded Morocco throughout the centuries, the last being the French and Spanish, but before them were the Arabs and before them the Romans and before them the Phoenicians and before them the Berbers. The folks who were there before the Berbers are no longer relevant to the mix, so the Berbers get default native peoples status. The Berbers are notorious for their “fiercely independent” spirit and the Arabs, Romans and others never could quite control certain parts of the country where the Berbers were able to do their thing. Still, they were disadvantaged in a society dominated by Arabic speaking Berbers. The difference now is mainly cultural and linguistic, although some people say that Berbers are lighter than the Arabs. These are also the same people who will tell you that Berbers are from Europe and that while Europe is the head, Morocco is the roots. This self-hating, negrophobic attempt to distance themselves from Black Africa and claim an elusive whiteness (being Dominican I understand and disapprove of the impulse) is laughable. The fact is, Moroccans—including the Berbers—are a diverse bunch and I was constantly surprised by the number of Moroccans that wouldn’t be perceived as “Arab” in the US i.e. wouldn’t get racially profiled by Department of Homeland Security. Some would get away as white, but many more would be profiled for being black. Gnawa, in fact, is the subculture created by black slaves. Unfortunately, coming into Moroccan society mostly as slaves black folks have kept their low status and now traditional prejudice has mixed with modern racism to make life quite hard for dark-skinned Moroccans. Natasha lamented the racist taunts and jokes, people chasing her asking if she was from Senegal. Again I saw many people as dark as Natasha in Morocco. It’s a damn shame. I wonder why God chose black folks to suffer so. That being said, I think it’s cool that the Berbers are trying to pressure the Moroccan and Algerian governments to teach Berber in the schools as one of the main aims of a rising Berber Pride movement after centuries of repression.

Fair & Lovely

• I woke up on Thursday and as I reached for the knife to cut the French bread (every time I have breakfast I can just imagine the priest at my Church in New York reciting “Our Fateher” somberly in that sing-songy voice priests always use “y danos hoy nuestro pan de cada dia…”) I tipped over a tall orange spray can. Thinking it might be some bug spray I turned it over slowly only to discover to my horror that it was a can of skin bleaching spray. I demanded angrily who it belonged to, but my host mom told calmly that it was hers with no hint of guilt or shame. I figured that I shouldn’t lecture a 50 year-old woman, especially since here I am white, so I just ate buttered my bread and grit my teeth.


• Then last night Alphonse came out to me begging me “Maikel, Maikel” and after he listened to “Bad” another five times he told me he wanted to be Michael Jackson. That seems normal enough—children often want to be like famous artists and athletes, that’s why many people want them to be role models—but then he told me that he wanted to become white like Michael Jackson too. I told him Michael Jackson was an evil, crazy man, and that while he used to make great music he should be in jail now. He asked why, but how do I explain internalized racism and child molestation to a nine-year-old boy? Chimaobi, any more suggestions?


• As fucked up as all of that is though, I think the Senegalese would have to do much worse before they could even begin to compete with Dominicans for the title of “Most Self-Hating Group of Black People on the Planet.”

Toubabs are not ugly either

• Although it is doesn’t seem quite as bad as the Dominican Republic (most self-hating group of black people on the planet remember?) it is obvious that white folks here get lots of love too. Last weekend I went back to Just 4 U to hear a Senegalese band, Ceddo (the Wolof word for the “traditional animist” religion that existed pre-Islam). They were really excellent, and I had a good time, but I felt bad because I was the only non-white dude without a white girl. There were around a dozen young white women all with what is essentially the same dude. If you have been to a beach in a tropical country with black people, you have met the dude. He is tall, lean, cut, has locks and is a musician and/or dancer. You have met the white girl too, she got her hair braided recently, she wears sandals, and is doing a documentary or volunteering at an orphanage or writing her thesis on rap music or maybe all three. Ok, I will stop stereotyping now. But seriously it was a segregationist’s nightmare there that night.
• I have also been asked four times now if Soizic, the Belgian volunteer, is my sister, and then they ask if she is my girlfriend and if they can hit on her.

We are a sad, sad bunch

For those of you who do not speak Spanish, the title of my blog roughly translates to "To Africa, boy, are you crazy?!" Whenever I forget why I am here and begin to think that learning two languages at once is absolute folly I read articles like this one and I remember why as a Dominican-American it is important for me to be here. One of my several reasons for coming to Senegal is to hopefully use this experience to better educate my negrophobic family and community. I doubt I could do anything to change the racist opinions of most Dominicans because as I said in this space already Dominicans are the most self-hating and delusional group of black people on the planet. Thanks Yajaira for sending me the article.

Where no gringo is ugly

Like I said this country makes me feel incredibly cynical, so sorry for the huge dose of negativity in this cluster of posts. But I couldn´t talk about the anti-Haitianism here without bringing up the other side of the coin, which is the terrible racial self-hatred here. Dominicans simply will not admit we are a black, African people. Our claims to the contrary are laughable. Most Dominicans would rather admit to being "indio", literally Indian, by which they mean to refer to the original Taino inhabitants of the Antilles than admit to being black. Therefore light-skinned mulattoes generally refer to themselves as "indio claro" and the darker-skinned refer to themselves as "indio oscuro." "Negro" or "prieto," the words for "black" are used exclusively for Haitians or to insult a dark-skinned Dominican. In addition, there are a innumerable other permutations to refer to variations of skin color, such as "trigueño", "cafe con leche", "jabao", etc. (wheat-colored, coffee with milk, untranslateable respectively). But, in my opinion, generally people recognize that there are four racial strata, white, light-skinned black, dark-skinned black and (black) Haitian in descending order of status.

What all of this leads to is a collective delusion and denial on the part of dominicans that is simply maddening. The darkest-skinned Dominicans who are most marginal to Dominican society, unfortunately, and in my opinion logically and by design, are the ones that feel the greatest need to reinforce the status differences between Dominicans and Haitians. Being here you are constantly bombarded with imagery, attitudes and sayings that reinforce that to be black is to be stupid and ugly and to be white is to be beautiful and smart. You constantly hear of "pelo bueno" (good hair) and "pelo malo" (bad hair). The vast majority of the women here straighten their hair in an attempt, however subconsciously, to attempt to look more European, more white. And although I understand that the attitude is pervasive and often afro-Dominican women are forced to straighten their hair in order to meet "professional" standards, I don't like it. This country needs a black pride movement.

The other annoying part of it all, is that the black self-hatred here makes this even more of a playground/paradise for white tourists. Cualquier trapo de gringa aqui es una reina. White men and women here are the most coveted sexual and marital partners, and when added with class and national power (that visa/green card) the romantic attractive potential of white tourists simply skyrockets. Again it is maddening because most of the white tourists here are not aware of how much they are valued for their lighter skin, and in doing so, most Dominicans reinforce the idea that they are not beautiful, not smart, not worthy. Que paisito!

Ignorance

I am Dominican. I am very proud of it. I don´t wish I was anything else. I just wish Dominicans weren´t so ignorant. It´s not that Dominicans are more or less ignorant than any other group of people (it may sound relativistic, but I think as a whole, I think societies tend to have the same balance of good and evil to them, and again it´s not like the United States is perfect, far from it) but I feel a greater sense of responsibility for the cultural attitudes and oppressive aspects of Dominican society. These are "my" people, so even though I have seen fucked up shit in lots of places, I don´t take it to heart like I the shit here to heart. And while I can´t blame the Dominican Republic for its poverty (even though the comprador class here is definitely part of the problem and deserves contempt) I can blame them for the terrible sexism and anti-black/anti-Haitian racism here (and lots not even get into the homophobia and classism). I knew that I couldn´t be in this country too long cause otherwise my head would explode. I knew that it was only a matter of time before I had to argue with some "so-dark-they-shine-purple" Dominican about how Haitians are not evil and destroying the Dominican Republic. The anti-Haitianism is simply out-of-control. During lunch last Thursday my cousin had the TV on and the news anchor was talking about how the Dominican Republic was suffering a "peaceful invasion" with over two million Haitians in the country. Clearly, the number was exaggerated. And again, it´s not like the United States isn´t an incredibly xenophobic and racist society, what makes the racism and xenophobia especially heinous here is that it is tied to a level of black self-hatred that I don´t think is known in the United States (or hopefully anywhere else, I pray that there is no greater group of self-hating black people on the planet, I can´t imagine a worse situation).

So far I have gotten into two arguments with Dominicans about the anti-Haitianism in the Dominican Republic. The first was last week when "el primo" was arguing that Haitians are lazy and all they do is "comer pan y beber refrescos el dia entero" (eat bread and drink soda all day). Of course that is a complete lie. I usually just let those comments slide, because I have realized that if I disputed every racist comment in this country I would have no time to sleep, eat or go to the bathroom. But that day I was feeling especially sensitive since I had spent the entire morning reading about Marxist economics on my cousin´s balcony as a group of Haitian men shoveled dirt and rocks to make cement and help some upper-middle-class Dominican like my cousin build another McMansion. Those men were anything but lazy, and I knew that they were working incredibly hard for pennies (no more than $3 a day). So I tried to explain to him that although immigration is a problem the real culprits are the Dominican individuals (many if not most Haitians in the Dominican Republic at this point work in construction, often of private residences) and firms that hire Haitian workers and pay them less than they would pay Dominican workers. Ultimately, there would be no Haitians in the Dominican Republic if the already weak labor laws were just minimally enforced (the same of course is true of the good ol´US of A). He conceded that I was right but then came with the even more racist argument that Haitians just want to unify the entire island which they have been trying to do since 1822 and that they simply want to impose their culture on us. Dominicans are just trying to protect their culture, he lamented. At that point, I just let it go. I knew the discussion was not going to go anywhere. I just hate the fact that so many Dominican immigrants can accuse other immigrants of doing the same thing that they are condemned for doing. In all of these discussions you can basically just subsitute Dominican for American and Haitian for Dominican, Mexican or shit, just say Haitian. The discourse would be the same. Just fill in the blank. Group X is lazy, brings crime, undermines our nation´s values and mores and is fundamentally different and inferior to us.

The second discussion occurred last night. I hate sounding so cynical, but the details are not necessary since the arguments about Haitian migration to the Dominican Republic almost always unfold in the same way. Dave and I tried to convince two of Dave´s friends that the differences between Haitians and Dominicans really are not that great, that we have much more in common. They insisted that we didn´t know what we were talking about since we were coming from abroad and didn´t understand all of the major differences. We argued that our "outside" perspective (shit, some parts of NYC may as well be part of DR at this point, Dominicans abroad are even allowed to vote in Dominican federal elections, and it´s not like there are a million of us in NYC or anything like that) allowed us to see that the differences truly were minimal. They insisted that they weren´t being racists that they merely wanted to protect Dominican culture. That they only opposed illegal immigration (cause when the police is rounding up Haitians for deportation here they really do check for legal status, yeah right). When Dave and I asked them to point to any major differences outside of language and religion between Dominicans and Haitians, they replied that there were major differences in customs. When pressed again to give ONE example, Dave´s friend said that Haitians had a fertility ritual where they rolled in the mud. He is not racist, however, he just wants Haitians to "stay on their side." It was clear that they weren´t going to be swayed to believe that Haitians are human beings, that they are not trying to "take over" our country based on some two-hundred-year-old grudge, and that Dominicans are treated the same way as Haitians in the US. By then I had had a couple of Presidentes and was just tired, so I decided to just put in both my pennies and fuck it if they didn´t agree with me then I was just going to lay it out there and say what I really believed. I told those fools that I was a socialist and I believed in a border-less world.

Then of course we got into the same debate about communism. The one where people tell you that communism is great on paper, but that in reality that shit doesn´t work because people are greedy and that I was being idealistic and really I should be happy with capitalism because it allowed me to own Armani glasses. After kicking myself for wearing Armani glasses, I made the argument that I would rather live in a world where everyone could have cheaper glasses, instead of some of us having Armani and others going blind. I told them I was going to Cuba and the argument continued to go in circles. Eventually Dave´s friend asked me if I would fuck a Cuban woman with a fat booty if she asked for my watch. It was his way of ending the argument. We could disagree about immigration, racism and communism, but in the end we were all men and could agree that women were just floating vaginas. Sexism is common ground. God bless the Dominican Republic.