arpeggia:

Wall Drawings with Black Marker by Charlotte Mann

I Am Not A Role Model.

In a recent GQ article, Chris Rock was quoted saying:

“Black stardom is rough, dude, I always say Tom Hanks is an amazing actor and Denzel Washington is a god to his people. If you’re a black ballerina, you represent the race, and you have responsibilities that go beyond your art. How dare you just be excellent?”

With all due respect, even though I believe it is a true statement, I do not support that bullshit. It almost makes me angry. Does an African American artist, doctor, lawyer, scientist, entertainer, etc. truly carry the weight of their race on their shoulders? Maybe so, but it definitely takes away from the act of self expression, and I dont want any parts of it. Tell me what kind of “freedom” is it, where an individual’s artistic merits and character, are weighed and judged, based on how they represent those who share the color of their skin, in their public works and actions?  When a famous black person, can express themselves as as they please, play any role, perform as they please, paint what they please, and support the beliefs of their choosing, without the assumption of an exclusive racial co sign…without the “image” of their entire race resting on the merit of their work, that is true freedom. That is true liberation: one man, judged as an individual, who is free to express himself as such, without the pressure of making an entire group of people “look-good.”

When D’ Angelo, a famous and insanely talented African American R&B artist, has a drug problem, he feels like he embarrasses his ENTIRE race, instead of just himself. How would the African American community feel about Eminem if he was a black emcee? Who the hell appointed Tyler Perry, the purveyor of the negro experience in cinema, and dubbed him, critically untouchable? Should we all support Obama? This “responsibility” that Chris Rock speaks of, in my mind, is a truly tragic insecurity, subconscious and centuries old, that I really feel like, in order to truly be free, we need to let go of. We need to cut that shit out — praising the moral/religious conservative and the racially conscious, and condemning the troubled rebel and the misunderstood outcast who wears their heart on their sleeve — looking at ourselves through another man’s mirror — putting our entire race on a divine pedestal, and each member in a pulpit. 

Chris Rock should be asking, “How dare you put that kind of pressure on me???” 

W.E.B. Dubois wrote a book called, the Souls of Black Folk, expressing the indentiy crisis of African Americans as the problem of being…

“born with a veil, a double consciousness, this sense of always looking at one’ self through the eyes of others, of measuring one’s soul by the tape of a world that looks on in amused contempt and pity. One ever feels his towness, an American, a Negro; two souls, two thoughts, two unreconcioled strivings, two warring ideals in one dark body, whose dogged strength alone keeps it from strife, the longing to attain self-conscious manhood, to merge his double self into a better and truer self.”

During the civil rights era, their was a growing debate in the African American artistic community on wether or not they should be able to make art about whatever they wanted, explore more abstract ideas and themes, or for the sake of community, only paint African American themes that supported the equality movement. This, while well-intentioned, I feel like has, decades later, back fired, and played a part in the seriously restrictive creative and social landscape that plagues the African American community — what is accepted “black art” and what isn’t, what is expected of us, and what warrants racial banishment, if I may use a little bit of hyperbole. Its a problem when we see news reports about people rioting over a pair of Nikes, and the first thing a black person says is, “we black folk, have got to do better,” as if we are ALL somehow, supposed to be above fits of tomfoolery (admit it, you have them too), and are the only group of people who do ratchet shit sometimes. Blacks are not one giant tribe of brothers and sisters with the same mother and father, the same religion, and the same wants, needs and habits, as some would have you believe. Yes, we are kings and queens, but so are our caucasian, indian, native american, and asian brothers and sisters. Contrary to what some black people may think, we are not “Gods whom use to rule over the white man;” we aren’t that special…sorry. That kind of racial hubris borders on black supremacy. We are individuals, and our variance in skin tone, language, and the diaspora of those who look like us, should be proof enough of this.

Charles Barkley once said…”I am not a role model,” and thats pretty much my attitude as an artist. Dont get me wrong, I believe in inspiring people, but how I express myself in my art is an internal experience. It is NOT my job to educate, but to elicit emotion. If my opinion is shared, then it is a welcomed byproduct of my work. I paint, draw, write, and perform how my heart see’s fit for me to do so, and I consciously resist the pressure to be bound by invisible expectations of “blackness,” and what is part of the “black moral collective.” I am not a “conscious” artist; I dont even know what that means anymore. Labels like neo soul, conscious, black-insert profession, leave a sour taste in my mouth. I often find these terms restrict other painters, poets and musicians, placing themselves in safe little boxes, that are easily digestible for the collective African American community. Sometimes, I can’t even go to poetry slams or open mic nights without cringing! (but thats another blog in itself) …an artist is just what he or she is. 

As Jean Michael Basquiat said, “I am not a black artist, I am an artist.”

The only decent way to represent your “race,” is by being true to yourself.

I DEFINE ME.  

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"Don’t grow up; it’s a trap!"

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