Why I'm grateful this book about Jazz lacks cohesion.
As I write and share this publicly I am scared of what may come from telling of my experiences as a mixed Black artist. Even as I feel like my survival hinges on my ability to people please, I know it is much more painful to put myself away than to embrace and express myself.
I'm going to let you know right away... I got a bone to pick. Actually, I am very curious about the day when I won't have a bone to pick. Will that day ever come?
Before I get into it, a little back story.
I grew up in Toronto and went through about 24 years of being molded to accept the conditions of the dance community and not create a fuss by asking for a little more care. When I moved across the country to chase belonging I felt in Jazz, I never expected to look back and feel swindled. Now, having pride in my identity, I can see how I was fooled into thinking that the path laid out for me would work in my favour.
I have walked alone on my own path as I refuse to make pitstops to drink contaminated water. These days it seems clean water is tough to come by. Truth is not easy to find when survival is dependent on silence. And that's on capitalism. But I believe that collectively, if we accepted the truth and acted with integrity we could instead thrive.
People have told me I: am a critical thinker, introspective, difficult, too nice, too strong, I talk too much, I don't speak up enough and (my favourite) I have too much integrity. Honestly, I love these things about me now and they have pushed me to prove people wrong and right. But for many years these labels paralyzed me and of course sometimes they slow me down, but I no longer want to live my life or do my art (what's the difference for an artist though) according to people's perceptions of me, especially when they don't know me, possibly don't want to and in some cases, could never.
I'm tired of being triggered when I encounter the entitlement of Whiteness in Jazz spaces, in dance spaces. Being Black in this world means I will be triggered by Whiteness... IF I have awareness of its demands of Blackness, its limited view of Blackness, its being intimidated by Blackness... But I am really tired of being face to face with my past when I am trying to find my path with Jazz. It is my work to do, but the teachers in my past who have tried to be the gatekeepers of Jazz continue to give lip service about supporting Black culture from which they steal, repackage and resell. Unfortunately their ideas being published means that they have continued to pop up in my life and trick folks in my community into believing that Jazz aligns itself with Whiteness. And unfortunately, I am reminded that I was tricked into believing that my identity needed White approval.
Jazz was a response and resistance to Whiteness. I feel constant pressure to remind all kinds of people of this fact. And every time it feels like I'm walking around saying that the sun is vital for life on earth. But many people with power just stare at me. It would be great if the response was, "Duh, Chenise!" every time. But hey, sometimes naming the obvious means you'll be ostracized if it offends the dominant culture. So all kinds of people will align themselves with Whiteness to get by. And it becomes very confusing when people who are judged by society the same way that I am also decide to align themselves with Whiteness. If doing so affords an opportunity deemed more important or easier than aligning with the truth many will just stare blankly, ignore the truth, and become a tool of oppression by default. Thus, when I don't, I have too much integrity, I am seen as difficult, negative and impossible. But then, am I also powerful and magical? Sure, if my mental health is not weighed down by the obvious oppression we all wade through and if I can be okay with feeling like the only one who knows it.
When visitors in Jazz do not admit that the power they leverage has less to do with their years of devotion to an art form and more to do with their devotion to White Supremacy, they risk that inevitably the racialized communities they claim to support will sever their ties with these visitors as they uncover their violence.
I am reading this book in sections and out of order and there are parts of it I still have not read and honestly, may never read. I've made peace with the fact that there are just some books in this world that I will never finish. It's remarkable how much space unfinished books took up in my brain before I made peace with my neurotype.
When White Jazz dancers get published to tell you that they aren't Black and still can't admit that they aren't the authority on Jazz.
So in lieu of my reading style, I am sharing sections that I read back to back.
First, a section from Lindsay Guarino, artist, educator and scholar, and associate professor at Salve Regina University who is also an editor of the book. Then a section from Moncell Durden, dance educator, choreographer, ethnographer, embodied historian, author and associate professor at USC's Glorya Kaufman International School of Dance.
In the chapter, Where's the Jazz? A multilayered approach for viewing and discussing Jazz Dance, Guarino shares with us, her ways of identifying Africanist aesthetics within Jazz while also noting that, "as a White female" (p103) her biases have gotten in the way of her knowing what Jazz is. In this section, the previous volume of the book is used as a reference as well as contemporary Jazz dance companies in which Guarino finds the Jazz (Jazz Antiqua: Dance & Music Ensemble and Decidedly Jazz Danceworks).
For example:
"Kimberley Cooper, in her chapter in this volume titled "A Strange Place to Find Jazz...," positions herself as a double-guest in Jazz - as a White person and as a Canadian. Acknowledging her identity implies awareness of what she is not. There are experience, circumstances and possibly even ancestral memories encoded in the genetic fibers of African Americans that evoke struggle and resistance she could not understand as a White person."
Okay, wow. I'm already going to stop here because just having to type out those words is honestly, painful.
Of course, being a graduate of the training program at DJD, I was struck deeply by the upholding of a White, Canadian, Albertan woman's view of Jazz, even with admittance of their lack of connection to the roots of Jazz, which I had never heard them say in my 4 years in the organization.
There was a lot of time in my early adulthood that was spent crying in and over this company. I think after speaking out about my opinions in 2020 some may have thought I was bitter about not being hired, not realizing the depth of harm that actually went on for me during my time there.
Yes, Calgary AB might be a strange place to find Jazz, but would it still be strange if one lacked community support and resources and was Black and were looking for embodiment of healing? Or would it just be a place to experience psychological violence (which is still violence by the way)?
Yes, it is implied that Cooper knows what she is not, but can she or Guarino actually say it or even write it down in this published book?
But it's the "possibly even ancestral memories encoded in the genetic fibers" and "evoke struggle and resistance she could not understand" that is quite honestly, insulting.
This points to the incredibly limited view one can have when they do not possess the authority to speak so grandly on cultural arts that do not pertain to them. And yet, because of capitalism, White Supremacy culture and the myth of "nice Canada", self appointed, "authorities" on Jazz can speak on and dedicate their life to Jazz, earning a living and changing the way that whole generations of people see an art form that is not theirs. Worse, if Jazz is within someone's bloodline and they are hoodwinked into believing and even unwittingly contributing to these White washed versions of the art form, how then do they find community? Strange indeed.
But why should I concern myself with people who have no idea of Blackness?
It is a White person's limited view of Blackness to mention only struggle and resistance as points of which they have no connection, but to somehow have depth to connect with the "elusive and transformative power of the Jazz experience" (p 103) and so, have the right to publish, perform, choreograph and rechoreograph, approve, dismiss and erase the essence of Jazz and those dancing it. It is beyond their ancestral connections to understand the healing, empowerment and joy available.
Lest arrogant Whiteness teach me how to make my own connections to my culture and my identity.
As if the dire situations we are in right now are not also struggles we all endure as a result of capitalism and White Supremacy culture. But true, White folks cannot connect to the struggles their own ancestors placed on Black folks. Imagination and Empathy could be a way in, but I suppose if one were to go too far down that path their conclusions may result in job loss.
I write this as someone with parents and ancestors from England and the Caribbean. I write this as someone who was taught to villainize my Blackness for most of my life and deny whole parts of my identity. Some might say that I got good at that and that brought me face to face with more harm. Harm that reenacts struggles between commanding and demanding power.
It's an interesting position to be able "stay out of it" as someone who practiced denying their Blackness. Around White folks, I could become the authority or I could become the educator or I could be the reason no one brings race up. But since I was good at coding, I "stayed out of it". That is, I stayed silent. I was regarded as "a nice mixed dancer" because I didn't complain or because I didn't "act out". In the past I even felt insulted for Black folks who weren't me before I felt insulted personally. I didn't feel I had the right to be personally offended by micro aggressions, insults or invalidations sometimes.
In 2020 I realized that affirmation of my Whiteness was endless and for 28 years of my life that was the only identity confirmation I was taught to accept. Yet, I was losing myself everyday. When I was villainized for speaking out and accepting myself publicly, I wasn't asked if I was okay by former Jazz teachers instead I was whispered to and whispered about.
Even so, once I felt the freedom available to me when embracing my whole self, there was no way to go back to hiding just so I could accept some cheque.
Sure, I could be righteous and say that I understand both sides because I am mixed. But that would be a lie because White culture would always other me in the end. I was taught to only understand Blackness through struggle, like many of us brought up in Canada. I was hugged when topics of enslavement and the civil war were brought up in school. I got used to the fact that my Blackness would get the most attention at the times when it was related to "negative emotions". Sadness, guilt, grief. I don't regard these emotions as negative anymore, but you can just tell when someone else associates your identity with their own feelings that they deem negative. Ouch.
Imbalance that lives within mixed race folks is inevitable as long as Whiteness demands power.
For a lot of my adulthood I questioned if I had the energy to wear cornrows. I didn't even know that I still felt this way until my White peers would confidently walk into rehearsals dawning head scarfs, hoop earrings, long nails, streetwear and laid edges (like what for? your hair is flat already) unashamed. I could not be far enough away to be a visitor in the culture and yet I consistently felt like one.
Now imagine feeling like a visitor, but the other visitors telling you that you're not a visitor, then finally having the confidence to lay your edges and having them tell you that you're doing it wrong and you can't do that around them. And yet you walk through hallways with photos that they put up of artists who look like you. Of course, they are Black and White photos from before the 90s.
There is (somewhat of a metaphor of) my experience doing Jazz in "a strange place".
I found the most belonging I had ever felt in my life, yes I'm serious, and yet it was with folks (not all, if I must remind you) I could never belong with because my whole self was never safe with them.
Now that I don't deny my own Blackness, I think it was wise of me to have hesitance about cornrows. I wish I could pass that feeling on to peers and "authorities" I watch dip their toe in cultures they have zero business tapping into just to pretend they can deny people entry.
But years of performance and choreography of codified Jazz makes an innovator in this art form.
"As artistic director of Decidedly Jazz Danceworks, however, she is upholding a commitment to aspects of jazz that have been pushed to the wayside in most non-Black jazz dance practices. By choosing jazz music as inspiration and motivation, drawing from West African movement to connect jazz to its roots, and conducting relevant historical research to conduct her choreographic processes, she honors the aspects of jazz that are outside her birthright. Furthermore, she has performed and choreographed jazz her entire adult life, providing her with a wealth of lived experiences that are certain to, in the spirit of jazz, lead to future innovation."
So Cooper is doing a great service to Jazz, according to her peers, not by highlighting Black dancers or artists past and present who carry the traditions, not by supporting or giving resources to Black artists and not through reparations, but by being aware of the obviousness of Jazz's Blackness.
The self congratulations that these White jazz dancers, jazz choreographers and jazz thieves give to one another dismisses, erases and deflects from work that Black Jazz educators dedicate their life to, even ones whom may not receive resources, accolades, credit, recognition or dollars. There are Black educators who don't dedicate their lives or call themselves educators who I have learned more about Jazz from than visitors in the form who call themselves experts.
White experts can thrive on stolen culture, while Black artists fight to survive disconnected from themselves.
To me, there is much education about Jazz in different Black, non-Jazz art forms. Dance does not exist within a vacuum. Dance is the equal sign to society plus vulnerability, but I think many people don't want to exert the energy it takes to see this. I mean, where's the money in that? When there is, it definitely ain't quick! I find it exhausting at times, but hey, as someone who has "too much integrity", and is "too strong", it must be in my nature to do the hard things when all that pushes me is that it's right and affirms a community that needs affirmation.
This section of the book gave.... discoverer.
"Discovering" a "new thing"
Putting it in a box
Studying it for years (oh yes, many, many years of course)
Asking people to pay the "discoverer" to see it
Allowing only those who praise the discoverer or commit to the disallowance of change within the discovery to be the ones who are an approved part of this legacy of the discovery.
Well, the thing isn't new, it's only new to outsiders. The fact that it was "discovered" by anyone means that someone else created it and the insistence of its rigid categorization strips it of its essence. The congratulations for being aware that one is not Black and that Jazz is Black wholly focuses on the wrong thing; their Whiteness and lack of depth.
Some who get it might be thinking that I am whacking you over the head with the point, but unfortunately, I've been conditioned to do so since Whiteness has demanded I explain myself. Explain why I won't just shut up and do like everyone else. I'm so annoying eh... With all my strength and integrity and a motor mouth. Yes, it is annoying to have these traits in a place where people use it against me. And at times, resell it back to me.
Imitation ain't flattery.
I am patiently waiting for the day that I don't have a bone to pick. Maybe when companies are no longer paid to give minstrelsy to the masses. In this economy? We've got a lot of dismantling to do. Which has to start in our own houses and communities.
While folks who have no relation to its origins go on regarding this boxed version of Jazz, Jazz is actually still out here living within the people whom Jazz was actually gifted to through "ancestral memories encoded in [our] genetic fibers".
This small portion showed me something in writing that I had already experienced for years in person. White folks who appoint themselves authorities on Jazz will go on dismissing and because of their power, erasing the Black folks for whom Jazz could be uncovered as a birthright.
So in stark contrast, Moncell's chapter gave affirmation.
His writing validated my knowledge of Black brilliance and connection that has been erased, demonized, belittled and also stolen for resale. It reminded me that people can see me accepting my journey, no matter how negative they perceive it to be and feel attacked. I was convinced that I had attacked people who hurt me when I said, "Ouch that hurt." It is hair raising to understand that I experience a continuation of psychological violence that started centuries before I was a thought.
"Jazz dance offers a passage into traditions, structures, expressions, folklore, rituals, characteristics and heritage of displaced peoples from the continent of Africa carried forth as the deep structure..."
Understanding and sharing the knowledge passed through Black culture is not a task for those who have no pathway to it and, through lack of "birthright", no permission from it's originators. Had Whiteness not invented race to cover feelings of inferiority and keep those who aren't White in the margins, maybe culture could be shared in a different way, but that's not where we are.
When it comes to Jazz, listening to Black people who have the experiences and the very real ancestral connection to it is the bottom line, the least, the beginner level. If Black communities and artists are forgotten when it comes to their own cultures, why would anyone not of that culture want it for themselves? Well dance doesn't exist separate from societal structures, in fact dance shows us the effects of these structures, in rehearsals, in company dynamics, in networking relationships, on stage, behind stage and in public. So to answer the question... If you're reading this, you can take the time to answer that before you step into your next Jazz class.
If Black communities and artists are forgotten and erased when it comes to their own culture, why do you want it for yourself?
What changes can you implement to combat the erasure?
How can you put your money where your listening and learning is?
By the way, you can send me money for my labour any time you want. You can send Black dancers money for their labour any time. You can even send money for our ancestors labour. #reparations
To the mixed, Black dancers out here wondering if you are Black enough for Black culture, I want you to know that you are and that you can give yourself permission to uncover your own relationship with your identity. That identity probably won't be mirrored by popular, codified, commercialized styles, but know that it is also special because it's yours and it cannot be packaged.
While experiencing the violence of cultural appropriation in "a strange place", I questioned my purpose, my upbringing, my being. My connections to my ancestors through Jazz saved my life.
For me, Jazz became what it was for Black folks in its inception, a lifeline.
Jazz is freedom, Jazz is belonging, Jazz is connection, Jazz is healing, Jazz is Black.
Comments