No black America, you aren't the custodians of the diaspora’s experience and culture

Earlier this week, a friend put me onto a Hot 97 interview with Samuel L. Jackson where he spoke about the influx of black British actors in America. Indeed, many black British actors are experiencing stateside success and Jackson was somewhat aggrieved that this was taking the roles of his compatriots and peers. However, what I took umbrage with was the subtext of Jackson’s comments on his perception of the validity of the black British experience representing the diaspora. This was when talking about black British actor Daniel Kaluuya being cast in Get Out, a horror comedy about contemporary racism.

“I know the young brother who’s in the movie, and he’s British… There are a lot of black British actors that work in this country. All the time. I tend to wonder what would that movie [Get Out] have been with an American brother who really understands that in a way. Because Daniel [Kaluuya] grew up in a country where they’ve been interracial dating for a hundred years. Britain, there’s only about eight real white people left in Britain … So what would a brother from America have made of that role? And I’m sure the director helped. Some things are universal, but everything ain’t.”

Since it was aired, the interview has had plenty of media coverage, much of it surrounding Jackson's criticism of black British actors taking US roles (Jackson has sought to clarify his comments saying his criticism was more of the system than targeted at British actors). Nonetheless, that doesn’t change the fact that there was a clear undertone in Jackson’s utterances that he, like many African Americans, see themselves as the custodians of the diaspora’s experience and culture. Although, not only is that not a role they undoubtedly do not possess, given contemporary African American culture, one could argue they aren’t qualified to assume it either.

I like and respect Samuel L. Jackson. Despite some questionable roles, he has a solid body of work and cannot be denied as a talent and veteran within the arts and the black diaspora. But when it comes to talking about black British culture, identity and experience, it’s something he’s hugely ignorant to and therefore needs to fall back and pipe down because he has absolutely no idea what he’s talking about.

On interracial relationships in the UK, they are surely growing but the 2011 UK census showed 2.2% of the British population identified as mixed race while 86% identified as white. It’s hardly the erosion of the white race in the UK that Jackson alluded to. Furthermore, despite increased acceptance, interracial relationships are still somewhat a taboo in the UK which would suggest that the struggle of interracial harmony in the UK is very much present.

That struggle is compounded by the history of race relations in the UK. Black America doesn’t have a monopoly on the hardships of the diaspora when it comes to achieving equality and positive race relations. The British were responsible for the enslavement of millions of Africans; of whom many African Americans are descendents of. Then there was the subsequent British empire that replaced slavery with colonialism. Post World War 2, many blacks came from black majority colonies to settle in the UK, only to be met with hostility and abject racism that was the product of centuries of such attitudes in British society that are still present today.

As a result, British contemporary history is littered with race riots and unrest within the black British community. Notting Hill Gate in 1958. Toxteth in Liverpool in 1981. Brixton in 1981 and 1985. Broadwater Farm in Tottenham in 1985. The list goes on. Needless to say, the black British experience is absolutely no stranger to adversity. To suggest otherwise as Jackson has is unfounded and asinine. It’s part of our past and our present and we know just how real it is.

Jackson’s sentiments aren’t exclusive to him. There’s almost an African American ‘privilege’ that so many black Americans assume when it comes to being an authority on and an authentic representation of ‘blackness’. As a black British person who’s spent time in America, many African Americans are amazed that not only are you from the UK but that there are others like you. They feel your ‘blackness’ is perhaps less credible and less authentic because you aren’t from America and therefore can’t possibly have a valid black experience that would be akin to theirs. It beggars belief that a group that often considers itself an authority on the diaspora would be so ignorant to the diaspora beyond their own borders.

Black America undoubtedly has a troubled and anguished history itself when it comes to race relations which is well documented and arguably worse than that of black Britons when it comes to contemporary history. Just don’t attempt to reduce ours in articulating that we don’t know the struggle because we know it just as intimately as the rest of the diaspora.

Admittedly, generations of the black diaspora of yesteryear once looked to black America as a bastion of the culture. The Harlem Renaissance showcased black consciousness and promoted positive black identity and the influence of subsequent civil rights leaders transcended African Americans as its audience and inspired the diaspora as a whole. Yet that’s since changed, largely due to the lack of inspiration offered by black America and the disengagement that the rest of the diaspora has with it.

In contrast to the 70s, 80s, 90s and even early 00s, if you speak to black British youth today, they have little regard for or association with African American culture. The same goes for black French youth and the rest of the diaspora. America is no longer the stronghold it was once perceived for credibly representing the culture.

Even in representations of popular black culture such as music and the wider arts, African Americans are no longer considered to produce a quality product that represents the culture better than their peers elsewhere. Instead, black America has consistently diluted and damaged what were once authentic representations of the diaspora and some of the worst representations of the culture arguably come from black America.

It’s fair to say that no section of the black community has further bastardised the diaspora’s culture en route to aggressive commercialisation and monetisation than contemporary black America. Hence it’s difficult to refute the argument that black America doesn’t even deserve to be a custodian of the diaspora’s experience given the damage it’s already done.

I was discussing this very topic with some friends and commentators on the culture and we remarked on the plethora of African American celebrity endorsements of products that are ills for the community. This isn’t what Malcolm X, Martin Luther King et al wanted and black America has undone much of the work of such inspirational leaders who were rightly figures that the wider diaspora looked up to.

Black America isn’t without credible, respected and inspirational figures such as Cornel West and Dr Boyce Watkins. But America is also home to many modern day house negroes such as US Secretary of Housing and Urban Development Ben Carson (who compared slaves to immigrants) and YouTuber minstrels and Trump acolytes Diamond and Silk.

“I don’t know, maybe the slaves came for a holiday and stayed to make America great again?”

Despite generations of hardship and inequality, it’s hard to see black America as a safe pair of hands and mouthpiece for the diaspora when such attitudes are present within their community. Don’t get me wrong, we have black British house negroes of our own but none as visible or vocal as those within America. What does that say about the dichotomised black American experience today?

Black America’s heritage is undeniable. Similarly, the African American experience is one that sears through the often painful narrative of the diaspora. Though this doesn’t give black America a right to assert itself as a custodian of the diaspora’s experience or to claim theirs as being more valid than that of the rest of the culture. To assume that role, black America has much work to do and statements like that made by Samuel L. Jackson suggest they’re the last ones to realise it.

Urban film – art imitating inner city life but occasionally a contemporary minstrel show

Urban film has become a popular genre within contemporary cinema. Often gritty tales of inner city life brought to the screen for those that can relate to them, or those that can’t and are therefore enthralled by the cinematic portrayals of a life unknown, provide the potential for compelling cinema. Yet with its popularity growing, urban film has produced offerings that sought to move away from its principles in a bid to make itself more accessible. In the process, substance has sometimes been trumped by superficiality and what were once tales of reality have occasionally become parodies of inner city life.

The genre has produced classics that were seminal at the time of their release. John Singleton’s Boyz N the Hood transcends genres with its significance and brilliance and it continues to receive critical acclaim for its portrayal of life in South Central Los Angeles. It tells a story of inner city life that revealed a side of American society many remained ignorant to or simply chose to ignore. Furthermore, it shared parallels with any neighbourhood scarred by social deprivation and all of its trappings; not just in America but worldwide. Doughboy’s poignant monologue of “either they don’t know, don’t show or don’t care about what’s goin’ on in the ‘hood” resonates with anyone that has felt their life and environment has been neglected by wider society and governments. The setting of South Central LA added to the legitimacy and credibility of the film but its writing and performances were what ensured its success.

Similarly, Noel Clarke’s Kidulthood and Adulthood both showed inner city life from a British perspective that had rarely been seen or at least not portrayed so deftly. Both films serve as microcosms of youth culture in inner city Britain, thus articulating the experiences of a section of British society (admittedly not exclusively) that would otherwise remain untold beyond the environment in which they originate. The Class/Entre les Murs, set in an inner city Parisian school, also achieves this but set against a backdrop of multicultural French society. Urban film is clearly a successful vehicle in producing art based on inner city life. Though as it has grown in popularity and broader appeal, so has the scope for its films to become watered down and lacking in credibility.

Where urban film, and indeed television, has drawn from hip hop and grime influences or that of wider working class culture, it would be expected to add to its realism. The dialogue, the soundtrack and the visuals are part and parcel of inner city life for many. Alas, some filmmakers don’t appear to understand this isn’t a substitute for substance.

For some, urban film may appear to offer nothing more than dialogue punctuated with colloquialisms and profanity, a hip hop or grime soundtrack (with a few badly performed cameos from the artists), characters that serve to perpetuate stereotypes and an element of crime or some other negativity for good measure. Although where the more credible films differ is their ability to reflect the society they’re based upon beyond a crude and shallow representation. Surely that should be what the genre strives to create. Yet instead it sometimes has a tendency to pander to the ignorant perception it is often subject to and should be seeking to refute. In the process, it also dumbs down the very culture it should be portraying and makes for ‘fast food’ art.

Other genres of film have identified the commercial appeal of injecting diluted aspects of urban culture into their films. I reluctantly watched Attack the Block, a horror comedy where a social housing estate is attacked by aliens and defended by a group of teenagers. Admittedly I wasn’t overwhelmed by the film so I won’t pass judgement on the plot. But as for the dialogue, the vernacular was often forced and the ‘urban’ element of the film just seemed contrived. Conversely, for anyone unfamiliar with the culture, that might not have been apparent which is in itself important for urban film to realise.

Film is such a powerful tool in disseminating images that can easily produce misrepresentations. For someone who has no access to inner city life, watching a portrayal of said experiences is likely to be deemed accurate as they have no reference upon which to compare it with. Hence characters and stories need to be well-developed and not one-dimensional to enable audiences to connect with rather than alienated by them.

Urban film represents the culture it seeks to portray and there are examples where it has done so with depth in producing classic films. Though as its commercialism grows, so does the inclination to depart from an honest and multilayered representation. That doesn’t mean every film from the genre needs to take itself seriously or shouldn't be subject to artistic licence. But if it’s going to borrow from the culture it seeks to reflect, it should do it properly.

Is Django Unchained worthy of the controversy?

When I saw the initial trailers for Django Unchained, it certainly captured my attention. Written and directed by Quentin Tarantino, a stellar cast and a plot where the protagonist is a freed black slave who becomes a bounty hunter seemed to make for a promising if not contentious film. Although even before its release, Django Unchained was met with both controversy and acclaim. On one side there’s been criticism based on the argument that the film presents a parody of slavery. Conversely, it’s been praised by many for the retribution of a black protagonist against the backdrop of slavery. However, while I understand both perspectives, I don’t wholly agree with either and many people have simply confused the issues brought up by the film.

Before I’d seen Django Unchained, I had many conversations about the merits or otherwise of a film set during slavery that was subject to Tarantino’s artistic licence. Similarly, the controversy surrounding the film was well documented. Spike Lee refused to watch it, arguing it was “disrespectful to my ancestors” and Louis Farrakhan claimed reactions to the film would be “preparation for a race war”. Both reactions would appear to most to be hyperbole. Nevertheless, while I don’t agree with either statement, I can understand the subjective rationale that would lead to their views.

Admittedly, some scenes in the film did get me slightly heated. But unlike Farrakhan’s suggestion, I certainly didn’t feel inclined to prepare for a “race war”. Indeed, a film that borrows inaccurately from slavery, perhaps even becoming a parody of the era, can subjectively be perceived as disrespectful to enslaved blacks and does raise the question of its appropriateness. Yet a bigger question is how a film like Django Unchained can manage such commercial success while wider society still isn’t ready to have a candid discussion about slavery. Amidst the criticism, controversy and praise of the film, this was a question that was lost on most.

Candid discussion of slavery, and its long term impact, has become almost taboo in contemporary society. As a result, the film industry and mainstream cinema audiences have a cautious appetite for authentic, honest and non-sensationalist films about the slave trade, especially from the perspective of enslaved blacks. Django Unchained was never going to provide such a depiction of slavery and anyone that pinned their hopes on that being the case was very much mistaken.

What some critics of the film failed to understand is that Django Unchained is a fictional film and a historically inaccurate one at that. For that reason there shouldn’t be an expectation for it to portray anything of historical relevance or value. Not to mention, the film had little to do with slavery and instead used slavery as a backdrop for the actual plot. While it could be argued by some that this was in bad taste, it cannot be said that Tarantino has belittled slavery per se in making a film that isn’t actually about the slave trade.

What appears to also lie behind some of the disdain for Django Unchained is that it was made by Tarantino as a white man. Amongst the critics, there does appear to be some discontent at a white man making a film that is set during slavery yet almost a spoof of the era. However, Tarantino being white is irrelevant in any contempt one might have for the film as it represents his creative direction and not his race.

Where I do take issue with Tarantino, and again not because of his race, is his comment that Roots wasn’t authentic. Roots might not have been historically accurate but it was a lot closer to being factually authentic than Django Unchained is (and that isn’t a criticism either). For Tarantino to critique the authenticity of Roots when discussing a film as historically inaccurate as Django Unchained therefore does seem inappropriate.

On the other side of popular opinion on Django Unchained, I’ve also been confused by the reasoning behind some of the praise it’s received.

Django Unchained was oddly lauded by some as offering a sentiment of black empowerment due to Django’s retribution. While I enjoyed seeing Django’s vengeance and the rescuing of his wife, it definitely wasn’t on the basis of me identifying with a fictional former slave turned bounty hunter. Nor did I derive any sense of empowerment from the film either. It’s an ignorant and ludicrous suggestion and to paraphrase Chris Rock discussing black people celebrating OJ Simpson’s acquittal, black people haven’t won anything because of Django Unchained.

Parody or otherwise, Tarantino didn’t make a film that told the story of slavery but instead the story of Django, his retribution and the rescuing of his wife. I thought the film was decent but definitely not Tarantino’s best work, nor worthy of the criticism or acclaim it’s received on both sides. Despite Tarantino’s films typically seeking shock value, I wasn’t as taken aback by Django Unchained as I’d expected either.

I don’t agree with much of the controversy surrounding Django Unchained but I can understand the subjective perspectives that have led to it. Nonetheless, there are wider issues on how slavery is depicted and discussed in contemporary society that have been neglected as part of the debate surrounding the merits of the film. Any meaningful discussion should instead focus on this rather than ignorantly praising the film for a non-existent connection to black empowerment or stating the obvious in commenting on its fictional and inaccurate portrayal of slavery. Ironically, for all the controversy, such discussion is yet to come to the fore.