BLACK FUTURE
We have not ONE but TWO well-loved fantasy franchises making adding another entry to their Adaptations tab on Wikipedia in the form of expansive and expensive prologues to original action. House of Dragon and Lord of The Rings: Rings of Power take place hundreds and/or thousands of years before we meet the original characters, using small background histories provided by the books' authors into a wide, new world where the audience can once again play within in the fantastical world of what is essentially good versus evil. The originals left a mark on cultural in many ways as literary tomes as well as film and television. In the updated version of these, though Games of Thrones ended a few years ago, have a due diligence to engage with audience critiques of their lack of diversity in our new age of 2022. And both franchises threw a bunch of people of color in both shows, more specifically Black people.
And, of course, this angered a lot of people, specifically white people, who felt that the shows were doing too much to honor the actual viewing demographic of such types of wide reaching cultural phenomenon, feeling that there is no room for politics and race in entertainment such as fantasy. Firstly, often times, fantasy, sci-fi and dystopian works place a group as “the other” where the creator is critiquing some facet of the real social and political markings of the real world. Even with that, the bottom line is that well, it’s all fake, made up, a magical world that should include anyone who envisions themselves there.
As a Black artist, I come to many forms of art as fantasy. I won’t live a life like the characters in Sally Rooney’s Conversation With Friends but I can believe in the fantasy of a well-written deep dive into the interior of young millennials in a ever-changing, highly political world. I have no Italianx blood but I find mob movies appealing, convincing, moving and entertaining. Again, the lens of fantasy allows me to view what I need from the characters and circumstances. Obviously, there are other elements of these works that make them quality pieces of art— form, content, metaphor, etc. The point I’m trying to make is that often works of entertainment and art aren’t meant for Black audience, therefore, the way into these works is fantasy.
Or simply, I could read a novel by Octavia Butler or watch Chameleon Street, listen to Janelle Monáe’s Dirty Computer— where Black Future is an abundance rather than being the only one or two in a world that struggle to belong in.
Black life in America is a fantasy. We live in a realm in which we believe we deserve to be alive, we deserve rights and homes and jobs and successful careers. The truth is that those things are in subjugation, comparison and in juxtaposition to whiteness and its insidiousness. We have always seen ourselves in a way of life that is unlike the one we live in now. Black folks have to think creatively, think outside of the bounds of the barriers of the institutions of every sort, and most importantly, find innovative ways to survive. It behooves us as Black folks to dream and create new worlds so that we may know joy, lessen our fears and leads us to a new kind of life. If fantasy, science fiction or any other genre of inventive world making and escapism, it belongs to Black people.
CATEGORY IS: Renaissance
O, Beyoncé has blessed us! Amen! Beyoncé named her album Renaissance because she’s interested in the redefining herself and closing in on a cultural moment in which, well, she’s the subject. The definition of the word— “the revival of art and literature under the influence of classical models” and it’s second definition, more pertinent to what has been created— “a revival of or renewed interest in something.” And if she meant that we have a revival of interest in her as an artist or that we have an renewed interest in dance music, she stood up in our turbulent times to say something that will captivate the masses. Renaissance speaks to the a specific reflection of the way social and political measures affect the world, placing the euphoric nature of endless moving of the body on the dance floor as a fantasy that one dreams towards.
We know that dance music permeates the culture in hard times; times of global economic strife, wars, and such. The world, its people, crave a voice that places their frustrations in a way that speaks in an universal but also a UNIQUE voice. Beyoncé has provided an album that speaks to many desires; queer and otherwise. The desire that implicate the longing that is buried deep within each and all of us. Music finds a way of culling under the skin, whether it be catchy hooks, hypnotic beats or marveling at her evolution in musicality as she spans genres; disco, PC music, bitch tracks and more. Beyoncé dominates in a way that she has previously, but that rivals her Homecoming special on Netflix, showing how she is the best the artist of our generation.
Beyoncé cycled through her own catalogue of album— diving into the R&B sounds of 4, the freak-um dance anthems of B Day, and the unrepeatable lyric intensity of Lemonade. While the album has queer bend to it, employing many queer artist in production, samples and more, the album provides a sonic fantasy that ensure we get through this next recession. But the magic that lies in Renaissance is the absolute, unabashedly display of confidence that ingratiates the listener into a state of permanent dance mode. There’s many elements that ensure that the listener is forced wiggling their hips and shaking their ass.
Her voice is illuminated on the album, a driving force that keeps the album’s eclectic sonic landscape together. She provides a silky smooth, groovy vocal quality that accentuates the production. She highlights her varied skill with vocal prowess— on tracks like Pure/Honey and Summer Renaissance, where the background boasts a sample from Kevin Aviance's 1999 ballroom track 'C*nty and the a belting Beyoncé giving an a send-up to Donna Summer in that latter.
As we enter the world of Renaissance, Beyoncé, in a smoky timbre, repeats the phrase “please, motherfuckas not ain’t stopping me.” She insists that she’s that girl. And, what about it? The first song is filled with lyrics like “knocking Basquiat's off the all/ that’s how I ball,” an emphasis on the bombastic, freedom-driving message of the entire album. The reality is Beyoncé could literally afford an original Basquiat. And she could, if she was feeling frisky one evening, knock it off the wall. But REALITY ISN’T THE POINT!
In the final track of the album, Beyoncé lets her voice go absolutely wild. replicating the true message of the album, that we are in a place we can’t change but one where we can let our minds, and our bodies, free.
BIG CITY FRIENDSHIP
When I think no one will listen, no one understand what I’m saying, I tend to text friends from the before times — before the pandemic, yes, but also before I moved to New York. After the second move (read the first blog), I blew in like a Texas-style hurricane. I had job. After a painstaking week of hopping from Airbnb to Airbnb with three large rolling suitcases, I found a place to live. I started dating. I started hanging out with all of my partner’s friends (who are great! but…). Everything is going great for me. I have things— an apartment, a boyfriend (even an agent).
My life has been overwhelmed with change. The body leans into a new reality but the perspective of the mind hasn’t caught up just yet. I put out, what was essentially an ad for friends, on Twitter. I messaged fellow New New Yorkers on Instagram. Anyone I thought may have similar interests as me; poetry, theatre, Real Housewives. I made myself go to every party, every event. Any invite I received, I said yes, ethunsatically. And when people leaned in and asked me the garden variety of questions you ask any newbie in town, I answered and tried to smile and tired to make them laugh. I thought I did all the things that I was supposed. And still I ended up alone most weekends, most nights, while the city bustled around me, taunting me as I looked out my window at the people following the night into something fruitful, mystical and serendipitous.
New places bring new challenges. I realize it’s not any city (sorry other cities), it’s New York City. Saying I feel lonely with all these people around in the Big City has now become a clique. There’s literally several books about it. People have established friends, routines, bars. The endless texting and planning an actually time to meet up with someone is normal New York City faire. Being in a city barely a year, I’ve accomplished quite a bit— even if those things threw me into a roller coaster of ups and downs. But that doesn’t really placate the feeling of being alone, being lonely. But more importantly, it reinforced the idea that community as vital part of human existence.
The hardest part is I do have great friends, good friends I can share emotional traumas, relationship trouble, money owes with— they just all live in different places. The thrall of social media and the constant flow of digital contact doesn’t help me feel close to them. What we gained, probably more so because of the pandemic, we’ve also lost— in person human connection. Again, this isn’t a new, wildly inventive thought but I think it’s important to note as we continue our journey through one pandemic into another. The loss of friendship is something that every person in their thirties, millennials across the board, have to experience— the thrust of moving on from someone you once loved and knew deeply. But how do you start over again? How do you find that person, those people, that you share an uncompromised connection with?
I’m not sure. But I’m hurting. And I’m searching. And the day will come. Hopefully, soon.