The Hot New Trend: latent racism

The excellent "women's interest" blog, Jezebel, showcased in a recent post the racist overtones of certain current fashion trends. So-called 'ethnic-inspired' designer clothes are treading dangerously close to racism rather than witticism. Designers are unveiling their lines with names like "Afrika" and with catch phrases like "Gone Native." And what do you know, these clothes feature a lot of feathers, face paint and animal prints!

Animalization of non-white and/or indigenous cultures, as well as pigeon-holing them as 'wild', 'primitive' and 'tribal' has long been a sore spot in studies of race. And any anthropology student will be the first to point out that the idea that populations in undeveloped (read Non-western or third world) areas are 'primitive' is an archaic remnant of backwards colonial thinking, and fraught with all sorts of errors and fallacies. But this does not stop the artistic, cultural, and intellectual (white) elite from making a beeline for these terms when talking about anything "ethnic-inspired." A New York Times article, for example, sends up red-flags galore as it throws about words like "savage," "tribal," "drumbeat," and "stepping on African soil" (as in stepping out in African-inspired footwear) as if none of those words had even been racially charged. I was surprised that such a prestigious and widely-read publication would walk the line so audaciously.

But the fashion world is not alone in its faux pas. The entertainment industry has also been tiptoeing close to the edge. Another New York Times article by opinion columnist David Brooks deconstructs James Cameron's infamous Avatar, revealing how it falls into the age-old, 'White Messiah' fable. He explains:

This is the oft-repeated story about a manly young adventurer who goes into the wilderness in search of thrills and profit. But, once there, he meets the native people and finds that they are noble and spiritual and pure. And so he emerges as their Messiah, leading them on a righteous crusade against his own rotten civilization.

He adds:

He goes to live with the natives, and, in short order, he’s the most awesome member of their tribe. He has sex with their hottest babe. He learns to jump through the jungle and ride horses. It turns out that he’s even got more guts and athletic prowess than they do. He flies the big red bird that no one in generations has been able to master . . . The natives have hot bodies and perfect ecological sensibilities, but they are natural creatures, not history-making ones. When the military-industrial complex comes in to strip mine their homes, they need a White Messiah to lead and inspire the defense.

He further deciphers the appeal of this formula:

Audiences like it because it is so environmentally sensitive. Academy Award voters like it because it is so multiculturally aware. Critics like it because the formula inevitably involves the loincloth-clad good guys sticking it to the military-industrial complex.

This fable fits Avatar like a glove, and Brooks goes on to explain how the natives of Pandora (horrendously cliche name for a planet, in my opinion, by the way) are similarly stereotypically constructed.

Another possible offender is The Blind Side, the story of a rich Southern couple (read a brassy Sandra Bullock) who takes in a homeless, giant, black teen and coach him into success and football fame. Now I don't mean to insinuate that this is not a touching story, Michael's achievement should be dismissed or and we should shun being a little heart-warmed by it, but we also should not ignore that it is enjoying the PC position of a socially-conscious and diversity-aware film while simultaneously glorifying white people and sweeping the black community under the rug.

The main (non-Sandra Bullock) character, Michael, though sweet, charming and most importantly pitiable, strays into the stereotypical dumb giant character--- depriving the prime representative of black Americans in this film of considerable complexity and individualism. One critic notes, "Michael is a curiously blank character, his inner life lost in the glare of [Bullock's character's] self-congratulation. His [past] life is a flurry of flashbacks and vague stories meant — like that drug dealer and Michael’s drug-addicted mother, who appears on screen briefly — to conjure a world of violence, dysfunction and despair." So not only is Michael short changed, but the glimpses into the black community are negative and stereotypical of the horrors an ignorant, white, middle-class audience might imagine.

To add to this subterranean prejudice, Michael's redemption is only achieved through the intervention of the rich, white people who 'save' him from his downward spiral. The black community has nothing to offer Michael. He even has to rely on Bullock's character to trigger his excellence at football. She aims a magical speech at his bewildered face behind his helmet and, as A. O. Scott describes: "it works, just as if the young man were a 300-pound robot she had reprogrammed with the flip of a switch." Granted, the white family admits that Michael is changing their lives for the better as well, but not on the massive scale Michael's life is experiencing.

So like Avatar, the white middle and upper classes can enjoy this film, feeling educated about the lot of disadvantaged, black, southern youth and secure in the magnanimity of southern whites who have the all the answers and take all the credit. Is it then surprising that is was Sandra Bullock who took home the Golden Globe for best actress as opposed to a refreshing, atypical black actress from Precious whose role constituted a down-trodden and abused, urban single mother who drags herself out of her troubles on sheer force of will, hope, and the love and support of a community of educated black women? Unfortunately, probably not.