Exhibit B and the Art of Conversation about Racism

I have read thoughtful pieces about Exhibit B in the last few weeks and thought long and hard about whether to add my own voice to the conversation. Most of the pieces have understandably focused on arguing that the work should/should not have been shown. I want to try and offer some thoughts about the debate itself.

Many have argued that closing Exhibit B was an act of censorship in that it limited freedom of expression. Rather than criticising the Barbican for closing it down, a number of writers have blamed the campaigners who were present at the opening night (and some have blamed everyone who signed the petition also). This seems, on first sight, a problematic position - invoking freedom of expression for the artist but not extending this right to those, who for whatever reason, might wish to protest. If one holds that lawful protest equates to censorship, the implications for democracy are very serious indeed. If one holds that freedom of expression is a right, then that right must be extended to those who engage in lawful protest. (Incidentally, few commentators have made reference to the importance of Black-led protest in improving the living conditions of Black people in the UK and globally and how this has included artistic representation in shows such as "The Black and White Minstrels" - perhaps television is not considered art?)

It is perhaps with this in mind that the Barbican statement implied that the protest was not peaceful even though there had been no arrests made by the police on the opening night. Whilst the police have not said that the protest was unlawful in any way, the Barbican statement has been interpreted by some commentators as claiming that it was violent - this seems to me a reasonable reading of the statement, unless the claim that the protest was not 'peaceful' was really intended to mean it was not 'quiet'.  I think that sound and voice are motifs in the debate.

The 'mob' that were 'whipped up into a frenzy' as one writer puts it, were chanting and drumming. (We might consider whether the difference between a 'mob' and say 'a group of autonomous individuals engaged in collective action' is merely rhetorical.)  Inside, the Black performers had been told by their White director to remain silent and to hold eye contact with their audience. Some writers have contrasted their 'dignified' position with those of the protestors. It is not difficult to see echoes of discourses of how Black people should respond to the subject of racism - dignified silence versus loud anger. Bailey's choice of language, in describing the protest as "a violent riot" appears to be in tension with his declared wish to examine "systems of racism and how they dehumanise all who are touched by them" when we consider how such systems have often used narratives of Black people as inherently violent. If we think back to 2011, we are likely to agree that actual rioters get pretty strong legal treatment in this country.

Of course there are many  possible responses to racism, but it is not clear that Exhibit B explores them. And with its all-Black cast, isn't Exhibit B actually about Black people rather than colonialism and racism? Can one tell a story about European colonialism whilst removing the colonialists from the story? Can one tell a story of "the white gaze" without including white people?

Perhaps the white gaze is to be added the moment the audience enters. Perhaps as some commentators have suggested, the piece is for those people who, like the director himself, can gaze on Black bodies and meditate on how they have benefited from their subjugation. This reading of the piece would allow for an argument that our own racialised identity informs (to some extent) how we come to look at racism. I've watched interviews and trailers, but I am still confused as to what the director would make of this claim. I can see that some commentators think it racist to suggest this. For them, questions of who is best positioned to discuss x, amount to another form of censorship. However one can reject an extreme position such as listing what an artist can and can't talk about and still think it important to discuss who gets to speak about what in art.

For instance, I genuinely wonder whether the campaign calling for closing Exhibit B would have been as well supported if it had been possible to point to a number of other recent pieces at the Barbican (and beyond) that had tackled the white gaze. If it was clear that Black artists were supported with public funds in making art that spoke of the brutality of European colonialism, might not people have engaged in strong critiques of Exhibit B but been aware that Brett Bailey's voice was only one in the conversation, rather than the (seemingly) lone voice? I think this complicates the censorship argument which seems to rely on a meritocratic notion that the art that gets funded and seen is the best art. Of course art should (be allowed to) be provocative and to divide opinion. However saying that anything that is legal is art if claimed as such, appears to hand over aesthetic and ethical questions to the law-makers. As an extreme example, it means that the actual enslavement and trading of Black people could be art if it was claimed as such in the UK before 1807.

There is clearly diversity of opinion amongst Black artists in particular around the issues this episode has highlighted. Artists for whom I have the greatest of respect have found themselves on opposite sides of a for/against debate. I do not wish to deny the agency of the Black actors who participated in Exhibit B, all of whom made informed decisions and some of whom have spoken about their reasons for participating. I think it is perhaps slightly troubling that the director has not always used people who consider themselves actors as the work has toured. He appears to be content to find Black people who will consent to participating in the work and are able to stand still and give eye contact. Does using Black people interchangeably in the piece critique the historical denial of full personhood to Black people, or mirror it to some extent? Perhaps the final section of the piece, in which actors write about their reasons for getting involved mitigates against accusations that the actors are not permitted their own voices in the piece. And do those who argue that participants are not "really Black" (I have seen such comments online) not themselves essentialise Black people?

The extent to which the participants can be said to have been 'acting' appears to be a fault line in the debate. Is it reasonable to compare Exhibit B, an art installation, to a film such as "12 Years a Slave" as many have done? Is there a crucial difference in how the audience are positioned? When I watch a film I am a viewer. In an art installation do I become a participant? If my response is part of "the piece" how am I to respond? Perhaps the only appropriate response to seeing Black people shackled is to rush to liberate them? On first hearing about Exhibit B, I had speculated with friends as to what would happen if people entered and did just this. But what if the protestors outside had declared their drumming and chanting as art (which to my knowledge they did not)? We might have had an interesting juxtaposition of public art and publicly funded art.

I think that one artistic response to this episode would be a piece of verbatim theatre on this episode, perhaps accompanied by talks and discussions. Certainly the debates around Exhibit B have reached far more people than the piece itself would have on its planned short run in London. Perhaps we have Brett Bailey to thank for this. Perhaps we have the protestors.

"But it's just a dialect that I select when I hang..."

This week, I was interviewed for a Guardian 'Comment is Free' article on the banning of slang in a school. Today I was invited to give an interview for a Canadian radio show.

My own thoughts are that slang/language bans are problematic but I don't know all the details around the school in question and wouldn't want to comment on it directly. It's easy to launch into a criticism of something without taking the time to find out more about that which you are criticising. I have experienced that more than once with regard to Hip-Hop Education and it achieves little more than boosting numbers of blog views and twitter followers.

I view the current obsession on slang in the UK within the broader context of the return to a narrative of the 'deserving' and 'undeserving' poor and the argument that social inequality can be eradicated by working class people becoming more 'respectable'; modifying their speech, clothes and cultural practices. I find it interesting that there are so many stories about the undeserving poor at this particular moment in history. I note also that this same narrative is prominent in the US, where a discussion about the ethics of killing an unarmed working-class Black teenager soon descended (in some quarters) to a discussion on how working-class Black teenagers dress.

Whilst I place great emphasis on teaching the language of power, I would argue that secondary school is a place where the question of what counts as 'Standard English' (and why) can be explored through poetry, literature, grammar studies and historical enquiry. I do not think that teaching 'Standard English' is at all oppressive to working class students (I say this only because many of the comments seem to assume that this is the position of anyone who doesn't favour banning slang). Recognising that different language registers are used in different contexts is important. Enabling access to higher education, whilst not the only purpose of educating children, is an important one. However, I am unconvinced that listing banned words is the way forward.

3 Criticisms of UK #HipHopEd

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Last month, we held the 3rd UK #HipHopEd Seminar, which, it was widely agreed was the best yet. In attendance was UK Hip-Hop legend Ty (@TyMusic ) whose recent Jazz Cafe gig was itself a lesson in Hip-Hop and featured support from fellow HipHopEders Breis (@mrbreis ) and KMT (@KMT_MAY ) amongst others.

To get a sense of how our Hip-Hop Education conversations are progressing, please read this excellent write up by @unseenflirt

Whilst response to the post by UnseenFlirt has been overwhelmingly positive, there have also been a few criticisms of our Hip-Hop Education work. Below I list 3 such criticisms and offer a brief response to each.

1. "Education should not be about students' own lives but rather about extending their horizons."

I think the 'own lives' vs 'wider culture' issue is a false dichotomy. Many would argue that good learners make connections between these two realms and that Hip-Hop Education is one of many approaches that can help learners to do this. When I used lyrics from Immortal Technique withstudents, they were able to draw links with Marx's historical analysis and Plato's simile of the cave, before reflecting upon the choices that were afforded them in their own lives. Akala's Hip-Hop Shakespeare work encourages students to make connections between the language, concepts and themes in two seemingly disparate art forms. The implicit message in some mainstream education that students bring little of cultural value to the educational encounter is often cited as a reason for 'disengagement'. Nobody at our UK HipHopEd seminar suggested that Hip-Hop be the sole content or method for instruction.

2. "Allowing slang in the classroom will be detrimental to students' language development."

I think concerns about literacy development rest on a second false dichotomy, namely 'Standard vs Non-standard English'. A pedagogy that accepts and interrogates 'Englishes' can not only teach the language of power but also can place it in a socio-historical context. There is a body of research that supports the claim that explicitly discussing 'code-switching' with students can not only aid the learning of standard forms of a language but also have additional broader benefits related to valuing students and their families and communities.

For more on the subject of 'Englishes' have a read of this paper by Dr David E Kirkland, who some of us heard speak at the Institute of Education, London last year.

http://steinhardt.nyu.edu/scmsAdmin/uploads/006/176/English%28es%29%20in%20Urban%20Contexts.pdf

3. "Hip-Hop Education is the latest desperate attempt to be 'down with the kids'".

Finally, the  'down with the kids' argument, whilst a familiar one, quite possibly betrays a particular vision of an ideal educator. Those of us engaged in Hip-Hop Education are immersed in, or at least very familiar with Hip-Hop culture having grown up with it. We recognise its educative potential and see that even modern, negative aspects of it can be analysed to help students make sense of the wider world. To us, and to many of our students, it makes far more sense for Hip-Hop to be included in the classroom rather than excluded.

Clearly there's more to say on all 3 points - it's quite likely we'll discuss one or all of them at the next UK #HipHopEd seminar! If you'd like to participate in the next seminar, let me know via comments of twitter! @rapclassroom

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*The UK #HipHopEd Seminar Series is a space for Hip-Hop Educators.
Artists, Teachers, Activists and Academics to come together to present, discuss, support and challenge each other, in a spirit of democratic learning.
UK #HipHopEd was recently featured on BBC1Xtra's 'When Words Collide', and Chris Emdin, our key-note speaker at Seminar 1 has been featured in the British press for his science education work with GZA.
Future plans discussed include a book, blog and open conference.
In Seminar 1, we had a chance to share our routes into Hip-Hop Education however we might define it.
In Seminar 2, we began to identify key principles and practices in our work.
In Seminar 3 we began to consider 3 key questions:
 
1. What do we do and why do we do it?
2. What are the main criticisms of Hip-Hop Education and how do we respond to them?
3. What would a UKHipHopEd Manifesto look like?

Seminar 4 is scheduled to take place in June 2013 in London. If you're interested in participating, hit me up! @rapclassroom

World Book Day - A Teacher's Dilemma

World Book Day is coming up on March 7th. I like World Book Day and I love books.

In the run-up to World Book Day few years ago, I received a phone call from a colleague. He asked me for suggestions for Black male characters from children's books as he wanted to dress as one. We came up with a depressingly short list and got to talking about why this might be, whether it was important and what we could do about it.

Together with another colleague of mine, we created the resource below. It is grounded in a real-life situation but raises some philosophical issues. I have used it with teachers, teacher-educators and with Year 6 pupils. People have responded to it in a range of ways, some very positive, some quite hostile. Either way, it has generated some interesting discussion.

The point of it is not merely to suggest a Black character from children's literature - but please feel free to do so - but rather to identify and discuss the issues that this seemingly mundane e-mail (based as it is on a real-life phone call) raises.
 

10 Thoughts after 2nd UK #HipHopEd Seminar

Much was discussed, debated and noted down yesterday. We are moving closer toward a UK #HipHopEd Manifesto, a collaborative enterprise that will drive, but not limit, our individual and collective work in Hip-Hop Education.

In the meantime, here are 10 thoughts I came away with after 6 hours of discussion that were so engaging nobody seemed to want to break for lunch!

1. Hip-Hop Teachers are activists. We are offering alternative ways of educating and as such are 'rocking the boat'. There is a need to be excellent and to be able to point to evidence that substantiates our claims.
2. HipHopEd is about building community. Relationships are key. 
3. HipHopEd is much more than doing hip-hop  in educational sessions. 
4. Hip-Hop was created by people of colour. Whilst anyone can participate in hip-hop this fact should not be lost.
5. Hip-Hop can be a context for education. But we must also examine the context in which hip-hop exists.
6. HipHopEd may bridge the gaps between school, road and home identities. Often education systems construct barriers rather than bridges for these gaps.
7. Cultural ownership and appropriation are ideas that hip-hop educators should explore with each other and their students.
8. UK hip-hop educators need to consider what is particular about UK HipHopEd. 
9. We should be alert to how power operates in hip-hop and education and interrogate this.
10. The DIY ethos of early hip-hop is alive amongst UK Hip-HopEd educators!

The Hip-Hop Debate - My two-pence worth.

I don't really do newsy posts. I'm too slow at writing for one thing.

Here's an already too-late attempt...

Tuesday at the Barbican.
Fascinating, funny but mostly frustrating.
A very effective viral campaign by Google for google+.
Race, Class and Gender. But not enough investigation.
A US event in the UK?
Where were the young speakers?

We could take a certain tabloid and point to racism, sexism and homophobia. We should. But we know better than to use that as a claim that journalism is a bad thing.

Hip-Hop is a dialogue. Discussing the state of Hip-Hop has always been part of Hip-Hop.

Who is getting amplified? Who are you amplifying?

"Living in the hole, looking at the world through a crack"

• Who is the  ‘I’ of the song? (How) can we tell?

• If he doesn’t believe in God, why reference religious things?

• Who is the ‘you’ of the song?

• Why does he use the word ‘Nigga’?

• Could the song be read as a justification for gang culture / victim status?

• (In what ways) could Australians be termed ‘criminal minded’

The questions above were created by members of  ‘The Dead Historians Society’ a voluntary group of A-level History students at BSix College, Hackney that includes their teacher. I met the group a few days before at an exhibition that featured their words and photos and was struck with their passion for discussion. Their teacher had invited me to the meeting as she wanted to build on the students’ interest in Hip-Hop. I chose a song that contained numerous historical references. (I should probably add here, as I did in the session, that the video contains violent images and strong language.)

We listened to ‘The Point of No Return’ by Immortal Technique. The lyrics (which we read), along with some commentary (which we didn't) can be viewed here: http://rapgenius.com/Immortal-technique-the-point-of-no-return-lyrics

 In the spirit of Philosophy for Children/Communities (P4C), I invited each member of the group to reflect on what was interesting, challenging or confusing about the song and then shape his/her thoughts into a question.

The questions were then written up, and clarified where required. The members then voted for the question they wished to explore together in the session.

The question that proved most popular was;

“Could the song be read as a justification for gang culture / victim status?”

This question, offered by a student whom I gather listens to Immortal Technique regularly, is striking. It forced the group to consider a critical reading of Technique’s lyrics and find evidence to justify accepting or refuting such a reading.

The fact that it was selected by the group does seem to fly in the face of populist arguments that young people are vulnerable and in need of protection from messages in Hip-Hop songs. It may even have challenged my preconceptions as a self-declared ‘Hip-Hop Teacher’. I had anticipated fostering critical analysis of rap lyrics using my skills as a teacher, P4C practitioner and apprentice academic. In fact, the critical analysis was already going on.

Given the many historical references in the song, and the students’ own historical knowledge, the discussion was at time understandably free-wheeling. It was also inter-disciplinary. I was too engrossed to take notes, but from memory;

 There was literary enquiry  

•  Looking for textual evidence to support an interpretation of the lyrics and to speculate as to authorial intent. For example, is Technique using revolution in a metaphorical or literal sense?
• Does he view violent death as inevitable?

There was historical enquiry

• Does Technique’s apparent message that all human change / evolution / revolution is ‘bloody and dramatic’ hold up to historical scrutiny?
• Can we think of counter-examples?

There was philosophical enquiry

• Is our own choice between dying (or living) for the throne or ‘our own’? Or is this only a choice at ‘the revolutionary moment’?
• When do we have enough knowledge to commit to something?
• How are to we discern who is and is not ‘our own’? Are we ‘looking at the world through a crack’? Is this like Plato’s simile of the cave? How can we gain the knowledge and understanding to see beyond this?
• Is Technique’s reading of the situation one of optimism or pessimism?
• (In what ways) are we more than ‘merely’ products of our environment?
• What are the similarities and differences between ‘gang culture’ and ‘guerilla warfare’?

These are just some of the questions we touched upon and many of them deserve their own enquiry. As you can see whilst some of the questions are quite abstract, many of them took us to areas both practical and profoundly personal. I think that this is what philosophical enquiry, and Hip-Hop, can and should do. 

I regret not giving more space for the idea raised by one student that 'Living in the hole, looking at the world through a crack'  might not be only a prison metaphor but could also refer to Plato's cave. My own dislike of the theory of the forms clouded my thinking and resulted in my blocking this line of inquiry, albeit very subtly. However we did later return to this, discussing the idea of partial knowledge and how we can ever ascertain that we have sufficient understanding of a situation.

If I had one aim it was to encourage the students to reflect on the world and their role in it. If I learned one thing it was that they were already doing this. That's not to say that I, as an educator, have nothing to offer them. I think I can help them to reflect critically -  but only if I remain committed to doing so myself.

I’m very grateful to the members of the ‘Dead Historians Society’ for giving me the opportunity to dialogue with them and consenting to me writing this blog-post.

I would like to invite the Dead Historians to add their thoughts about the session below.