Mixed Race Studies

The man behind the legend

Edmonton Journal
Edmonton, Alberta, Canada
2012-02-14

Jay Stone, Postmedia News

BERLIN – He was a musician, a spiritual leader, a ladies’ man, a smoker of heroic amounts of ganja, a political force and a religious icon. And, 31 years after his death, Bob Marley is still a chart-topper: His Legend album sells 250,000 copies a year, even now.

“Everywhere in the world people look at Bob as some kind of leader, philosopher, prophet, someone who speaks to their lives and in whom they find wisdom,” says Scottish filmmaker Kevin Macdonald. “It’s fascinating: Why is that? Nobody else has had that effect in music.”

Macdonald directed the documentary, Marley. It’s a definitive—not to say encyclopedic—biopic of a musician who was a mystery, despite his popularity as the first poet of reggae. Almost 2 and a half hours long, it includes concert footage and interviews with friends and family. It is having its world premiere at the Berlin International Film Festival…

…The Scottish director took over the project from Jonathan Demme, who dropped out because of the lack of historical documents with which to put together a full picture. Macdonald said he became committed to it while in Uganda shooting The King of Scotland, his film about Idi Amin.

“I went into the Kampala slums with some of my actors, and people had Bob Marley pictures, graffiti, pictures,” Macdonald said. “Twenty-five years after he died, he still had a huge impact. There’s no other musician I can think of who has that position in culture, so long after he’s dead, and so far away, in a poor part of a central African city.”

He looked at the film as a kind of detective story. Much of Marley’s identity came from the fact that he was of mixed race—his mother was black, his father white—so that, in some ways, he was an outsider in his own country. Despite Macdonald’s research, however, Marley’s father, Norval, remains a mystery: There is a photograph of him in the movie, but not much information…

Read the entire article here.

Multiracial meditations

The Portland State Vanguard
Portland State University, Portland, Oregon
2012-02-13

Jeoffry Ray

PSU panel to discuss growing up biracial in context of novel The Girl Who Fell from the Sky

How does one begin to discuss the experience of belonging to more than one “race”?

It’s really up to the participants,” said Dr. Maude Hines, organizer of the Portland State and Multnomah County Libraries’ 2012 Everybody Reads project, which will hold a panel discussion titled “Growing Up Biracial” Thursday, Feb. 16, at the university’s Millar Library.

The discussion will focus on the panel members’ experiences growing up as multiracial individuals and will be presented in the context of The Girl Who Fell from the Sky (Algonquin, 2008) by Heidi Durrow, the novel that is the focus of this year’s Everybody Reads program.

The panel will include associate professor of the PSU Black Studies Department Dr. Ethan Johnson, graduate student Adrienne Croskey and undergraduate Kevin Thomas…

Read the entire article here.

Racism and Ethnic Relations in the Portuguese-Speaking World

Oxford University Press
July 2012
300 pages
12 halftones, tables, and graphs
234x156mm
Hardback ISBN: 978-0-19-726524-6

Edited by

Francisco Bethencourt, Charles Boxer Professor of History
King’s College London

Adrian Pearce, Lecturer in Brazilian & Spanish American History
King’s College London

• Comprehensive overview of racism and ethnic relations throughout Portuguese-speaking world
• Radical updating – last overview was published in 1963
• Draws out new connections between different parts of this area over time
• Experiments with new methods, e.g. anthropological history, visual culture

How did racism evolve in different parts of the Portuguese-speaking world? How should the impact on ethnic perceptions of colonial societies based on slavery or the slave trade be evaluated? What was the reality of inter-ethnic mixture in different continents? How has the prejudice of white supremacy been confronted in Brazil and Portugal? And how should we assess the impact of recent trends of emigration and immigration? These are some of the major questions that have structured this book. It both contextualises and challenges the visions of Gilberto Freyre and Charles Boxer, which crystallised from the 1930s to the 1960s, but which still frame the public history of this topic. It studies crucial issues, including recent affirmative action in Brazil or Afro-Brazilian literature, blackness in Brazil compared with Colombia under the dynamics of identity, recent racist trends in Portugal in comparative perspective, the status of native people in colonial Portuguese Africa, discrimination against forced Jewish converts to Christianity and their descendants in different historical contexts, the status of mixed-race people in Brazil and Angola compared over the longue durée, the interference of Europeans in East Timor’s native marriage system, the historical policy of language in Brazil, or visual stereotypes and the proto-ethnographic gaze in early perceptions of East African peoples. The book covers the gamut of inter-ethnic experiences throughout the Portuguese-speaking world, from the sixteenth century to the present day, integrating contributions from history, sociology, social psychology, anthropology, literary, and cultural studies. It offers a radical updating of both empirical data and methodologies, and aims to contribute to current debates on racism and ethnic relations in global perspective.

Table of Contents

• Francisco Bethencourt: Introduction
• Part I. Present Issues
  • 1: António Sérgio Guimarães: Colour and Race in Brazil: From Whitening to the Search for Afro-Descent
  • 2: Peter Wade: Brazil and Colombia: Comparative Race Relations in South America
  • 3: Jorge Vala and Cícero Pereira: Racism: An Evolving Virus
  • 4: Luiz Felipe de Alencastro: Mulattos in Brazil and Angola: A Comparative Approach, Seventeenth to Twenty-First Centuries
• Part II. The Modern Framework
  • 5: João de Pina-Cabral: Charles Boxer and the Race Equivoque
  • 6: Maria Lucia Pallares-Burke: Gilberto Freyre and Brazilian Self-Perception
  • 7: David Brookshaw: Writing from the Margins: Towards an Epistemology of Contemporary African Brazilian Fiction
  • 8: Michel Cahen: Indigenato Before Race? Some Proposals on Portuguese Forced Labour Law in Mozambique and the African Empire (1926-62)
  • 9: Miguel Jerónimo: The ‘Civilisation Guild’: Race and Labour in the Third Portuguese Empire, ca. 1870-1930
• Part III. The Long View
  • 10: Ricardo Roque: Marriage Traps: Colonial Interactions with Indigenous Marriage Ties in East Timor
  • 11: Herbert Klein: The Free Afro-Brazilians in a Slave Society
  • 12: Andrea Daher: The ‘General Language’ and the Social Status of the Indian in Brazil, Sixteenth to Nineteenth Centuries
  • 13: José Pedro Paiva: The New Christian Divide in the Portuguese-Speaking World (Sixteenth to Eighteenth Centuries)
  • 14: Jean Michel Massing: From Marco Polo to Manuel I of Portugal: The Image of the East African Coast in the Early Sixteenth Century

Writing Africans Out of the Racial Hierarchy: Anti-African Sentiment in Post-Revolutionary Mexico

Cincinnati Romance Review
Volume 30 (2011): Afro-Hispanic Subjectivities
pages 172-183

Galadriel Mehera Gerardo, Assistant Professor of Latin American History
Youngstown State University

Over the past two decades scholars have examined Mexican racial ideology in the late 19th and early 20th centuries. They have paid particular attention to the positivist ideas propagated by Porfirio Díaz’s científicos in the late 19th century and the creation of the seemingly nationalist, antiimperialist concept of mestizaje most associated with post-revolutionary scholars in the early to mid 20th century (Castro, Hedrick, and Minna Stern). Most studies focus on the inaccurate, racist portrayal of indigenous people by the Mexican nationalist intellectuals of this era. They often note the influence of U.S. and European scientific racism, particularly Social Darwinism, on Mexicans in the late 19th and early 20th centuries. They rarely emphasize the absence of Africans in Mexican intellectuals’ discussions of race, however. The absence or near absence of Africans in early- to mid-20th century Mexican discussions of race indicates as much about the attitudes of Mexican scholars as their emphasis on the indigenous past. Likewise, excluding Africans from the Mexican racial narrative was as significant to the creation of Mexican national identity as Mexican scholars’ depictions of native peoples. Mexican intellectuals “whitened” the imagined Mexican, simultaneously writing Africans out of Mexico’s history while challenging North Atlantic ideas about race and racial supremacy by promoting the mixing of European and indigenous peoples, offering what they believed was a distinct, nationalist vision of the racial hierarchy.

This article concentrates on three Mexican scholars and their discussions of Africans (or, in some cases, lack thereof) in their most significant essays. The first two—José Vasconcelos and Manuel Gamio—emerged among Mexico’s most important intellectuals of the revolutionary period. The third—Octavio Paz—became Mexico’s most influential literary figure a generation later. While he criticized many of the previous generation’s ideas, he embraced aspects of Gamio and Vasconcelos’s arguments. Moreover, in The Labyrinth of Solitude, widely considered the definitive work on Mexican character, Paz continued both the trend of integrating indigenous people as a means of ultimately eliminating them, and of “lightening” Mexico’s racial stock by avoiding acknowledging the presence of people of African descent in Mexico’s population and history.

This study consciously focuses on three individuals who at various times in their lives worked for branches of the Mexican government (usually educational) and in some cases even founded government institutions based on their ideas. Despite their antiimperialist, nationalist mentalities, all three spent periods of time living in the United States, often seeking refuge when their ideas fell out of favor with their own government. Both their experiences in the U.S. and the influence of North Atlantic ideas on their educations are significant for understanding each of these men’s assertions about race, and particularly their decision to render invisible Afro-Mexicans by writing them out of treatises on Mexico’s future. In contrast to the científicos who worked during the Porfiriato, these 20th century Mexican intellectuals considered themselves nationalists and intended their visions of the Mexican people’s future to counter the white supremacist ideology supported by Social Darwinism and embraced by U.S. intellectuals. Yet in ignoring the historical presence of Africans throughout Mexican history, Mexican intellectuals reified the North Atlantic vision of a racial hierarchy with Anglo-Europeans and Anglo-Americans at the top and Africans and indigenous Americans at the bottom. Many recent scholars have pointed out the racism inherent to the concept of mestizaje. However, these critiques have focused on Mexican intellectuals’ treatment of indigenous people. Emphasizing the exclusion of Africans  from the racial narratives underlines the nuances of Mexican racism in the first half of the 20th century. It also suggests how firmly entrenched North Atlantic ideas about race had become in Mexico by the 20th century.

Anti-African Sentiment

The history of Africans in Mexico spans as far back as the history of Europeans there. Africans took part in the conquest of Mexico and were present throughout the colonial period. Often they held significant intermediary roles as overseers, skilled craftsmen, and merchants. Both free and enslaved Africans could be found in colonial Mexico. As the colonial period progressed, Spaniards imported more African slaves to work as unskilled laborers in the semi-tropical sugar-producing regions around Veracruz, Acapulco, and parts of Guerrero and Oaxaca. Because more male than female slaves were imported, interracial unions regularly occurred in the colonial period, particularly between indigenous women and African men. As a result of the decline of slavery combined with racial mixing, by the time of independence only a small portion of Mexico’s population was considered “black,” although a significant portion of the mixed-race population likely had some African heritage (Meyer 164-6)…

Read the entire article here.

Rice Outside the Paddy: The Form and Function of Hybridity in a Thai Novel

Crossroads: An Interdisciplinary Journal of Southeast Asian Studies
Volume 11, Number 1 (1997)
pages 51-78

Jan R. Weisman

This paper examines some of the problematic issues of racial hybridity in contemporary Thailand through an analysis of the fictional portrayal of Thai hybrid individuals in the archetypical story, Khao Nok Na. I argue that the modern Thai treatment of hybridity—both fictional and real—privileges some forms over others as it 1) reflects Thai Buddhist concepts of the phenotypical expression of accumulated religious merit, 2) reflects and creates audience desire and anxiety as it reminds the nation of its actual, perceived, or feared loss of control over the course of its development and globalization, and 3) insists on Thai control of its various images as a means of  alleviating the anxieties so created.

Introduction

Thai popular conceptions of hybridity—in particular, the genetic hybridity expressed in individuals of mixed Thai-Western ancestry—have undergone significant changes in recent decades. Eurasians occupied a neutral social category for much of Thai history. Their numbers were small; their parents were of high socioeconomic status; and their Thai lineage was usually a paternal connection. This situation changed dramatically with the influx of American military personnel into Thailand during the Vietnam War. Though the Thai government does not maintain records on the subject, it is estimated that as many as 7,000 Amerasian children…

Impostors: EUST-235

Amherst College
Spring 2012

Ilan Stavans, Lewis-Sebring Professor in Latin American and Latino Culture

Deborah R. Dizard, Visiting Lecturer in European Studies

An interdisciplinary exploration of the causes behind the social, racial, artistic, and political act—and art—of posing, passing, or pretending to be someone else. Blacks passing for whites, Jews passing for gentiles, and women passing for men, and vice versa, are a central motif. Attention is given to biological and scientific patterns such as memory loss, mental illness, and plastic surgery, and to literary strategies like irony. As a supernatural occurrence, the discussion includes mystical experiences, ghost stories, and séance sessions. The course also covers instances pertaining to institutional religion, from prophesy from the Hebrew and Christian Bibles to the Koran and Mormonism. In technology and communications, analysis concentrates on the invention of the telegraph, the telephone, and the Internet. Entertainment, ventriloquism, puppet shows, voice-overs, children’s cartoon shows, subtitles, and dubbing in movies and TV are topics of analysis. Posers in Greek mythology, the Arabian Nights, Cervantes, Shakespeare, Lewis Carroll, Mark Twain, Sigmund Freud, Jorge Luis Borges, Philip Roth, Oliver Sacks, and Nella Larsen are examined. Conducted in English.

José Vasconcelos: The Prophet of Race

Rutgers University Press
2011-05-07
142 pages
5.5 x 8.5
Cloth ISBN: 978-0-8135-5063-3
Paper ISBN: 978-0-8135-5064
Web PDF ISBN: 978-0-8135-5104-3

Ilan Stavans, Lewis-Sebring Professor in Latin American and Latino Culture
Amherst College, Amherst, Massachusetts

Mexican educator and thinker José Vasconcelos is to Latinos what W.E.B. Du Bois is to African Americans—a controversial scholar who fostered an alternative view of the future. In José Vasconcelos: The Prophet of Race, his influential 1925 essay, “Mestizaje”—key to understanding the role he played in the shaping of multiethnic America—is for the first time showcased and properly analyzed. Freshly translated here by John H. R. Polt, “Mestizaje” suggested that the Brown Race from Latin America was called to dominate the world, a thesis embraced by activists and scholars north and south of the Rio Grande. Ilan Stavans insightfully and comprehensively examines the essay in biographical and historical context, and considers how many in the United States, especially Chicanos during the civil rights era, used it as a platform for their political agenda. The volume also includes Vasconcelos’s long-forgotten 1926 Harris Foundation Lecture at the University of Chicago, “The Race Problem in Latin America,” where he cautioned the United States that rejecting mestizaje in our own midst will ultimately bankrupt the nation.

Table of Contents

• Preface
• Ilan Stavans
  • The Prophet of Race
• Jose Vasconcelos
  • Mestizaje
  • The Race Problem in Latin America
• Chronology
• Acknowledgments

“The Girl Isn’t White”: New Racial Dimensions in Octavia Butler’s Survivor

Extrapolation
Volume 47, Number 1 (2006)
pages 35-50
DOI: 10.3828/extr.2006.47.1.6
ISSN: 0014-5483 (Print); 2047-7708 (Online)

Crystal S. Anderson, Associate Professor of English Department
Elon University, Elon, North Carolina

Since the publication of her first novel, Octavia Butler’s popularity has increased, making her now a staple for individuals attracted to the fiction of Afro-futurism. Sandra Govan argues that Butler “forge[s] a black presence in science fiction,” a presence that consistently challenges assumptions regarding inter-group and intra-group relations (87). Butler’s Patternist series of novels focuses on the tensions between groups with psychic abilities and those without, and her Xenogenesis trilogy explores the ramifications of blending humans with an alien race. Much of Butler’s success among African Americans surely rests on the connections readers make between the themes of these novels and their experiences in a race-conscious society. Changes in American society, particularly the dynamic between ethnic groups, prompt a reexamination of Butler’s early fiction. Survivor (1978) anticipates the challenges contemporary blacks face in an increasingly diverse society. Butler uses Alanna, an Afro-Asian protagonist, to illuminate strategies of negotiation for African Americans who engage a variety of ethnic groups.

During the late 1970s, African Americans became increasingly aware of other ethnic groups, particularly Asians. This time period witnesses a mode of civil rights that acknowledges the parallel struggle of American blacks and Asian groups, especially in radical political circles. Bill Mullen reminds us that “beginning with the 1955 meeting of decolonizing African and Asian nations in Bandung, Indonesia, until at least the early 1970s, African American and Asian radicals imagined themselves as antipodal partners in cultural revolution, pen pals for world liberation” (76) Asian cultures so interpenetrated African American cultural movements in the 1970s, Robin Kelley declares, “although the Black Arts Movement was the primary vehicle for black cultural revolution in the United States United States,  it is hard to imagine what that revolution would have looked like without China” (107). Butler’s early foray  into fiction demonstrates its awareness of similar Afro-Asian dynamics by meditating on racial dynamics contrary to the traditional black-white racial paradigm.

…Butler’s use of an Afro-Asian protagonist disrupts conventional tendencies that read all biracial identities according to a black-white paradigm. The reader learns of Alanna’s heritage during a flashback: “There was a man, as lean and tall as Alanna was now. His coloring was dark brown, almost black, contrasting strangely with the very fair skin of the woman. Alanna stood between them, her eyes only slightly narrowed, her skin a smooth medium brown” (27). Initially, Butler does not identify the race of each parent, but uses phrases such as “dark brown” and “fair skin” to imply they are both non-white. As Alanna stands between them, her appearance operates as a visual median, taking the “medium brown” coloring from her father and her narrow eyes possibly from her mother. Butler intentionally delays racial identification, explaining, “if I had given the characters’ race away earlier … possibly the reader wouldn’t react, but, instead, maybe discard that information” (Butler, “Radio,” 52). Such a strategy suggests that Alanna’s background is not an insignificant detail. Butler’s narrative soon confirms Alanna’s unique mixed-race identity when Neila reveals that Alanna’s “Afro-Asian from what she says of her parents. Black father, Asian mother” (31).

As the product of two minority groups, Alanna’s racial identity produces a different set of issues than the traditional black-white racial identity. Butler is aware of such differences, for when she was a child, she discovered that a neighbor had a black father and a Japanese mother. That discovery informs her adult thoughts on minority mixed-race identity: “It didn’t change anything about the way I thought about her except that I was intensely curious about her life. How is her life different because she’s from this unusual situation?” (Butler, “Radio,” 52). Butler recognizes that minority mixed-race individuals may have a different perspective because they culturally partake from two similarly marginalized groups within society. Christine C. Iijima Hall and Trude I. Cooke Turner assert, “the minority-minority individual does not have to choose between being a member of a minority or a majority group. Because these individuals already belong to two minority groups, their social standing in American culture is usually minority” (82). Alanna’s bifurcated identity signals to the reader that she is uniquely suited to see situations from a point of view not associated with the dominant group. She has a perspective attuned to difference. According to Lucille Fultz, diverging from traditional characterizations of the racial backgrounds of characters encourages readers to “rethink received notions of difference based on race and class and question their own investment in the cultural constructions of such categories” (26). Alanna’s mixed-race identity will underscore her engagement with multiple groups…

Read the entire article here.

A Philippa Schuyler moment

On an Overgrown Path
2011-08-02

John McLaughlin Williams

Philippa Schuyler. Just hearing the name takes me back to a place in my childhood I have not revisited in memory more than a couple of times in decades. Philippa Schuyler’s name was but one of dozens lodged in my parent’s large sheet music library, occupying shelf space alongside the giants and talented lesser lights of our canonic music literature. Even among those lesser lights Schuyler seemed to me an odd duck a the time, for here peering at me from the cover of the sole piece of music by her in our possession was a picture of a seven year old girl of mixed race, rather than an aged, wizened and likely bearded Caucasian man. Wasn’t that what a composer was supposed to look like?

My being a beginning pianist of about ten or eleven at the time caused me to be extremely curious about the yellowed sheets containing nine pieces of progressive difficulty penned by Schuyler between the ages of four to nine. The fact that she was considered to be an exemplar of mid-twentieth century black achievement added to her music’s mystique. My parents played piano music of timeless worth; my dad enamored of Beethoven and Brahms, my mom all quicksilver and light in Chopin and Mozart. I was learning to play Scarlatti sonatas, my mind filled with the melody and counterpoint by masters of compositional craft. I sat down to play Schuyler’s music and was immediately filled with disappointment. “This is bad”, I thought to myself! It didn’t sound like what my parents played, much less like the music I was studying. Compared with the masters Schuyler’s work seemed trite, short breathed, and to my young mind, immature. (In retrospect and in defense of Schuyler’s work, because of the unusual way in which I began to play the piano, the valuable didactic nature of these pieces eluded me completely.) I played through the music, put it away and never looked at it again. Until last week.

When Bob Shingleton asked me if I knew anything about Philippa Schuyler, I said I knew a little. That little bit comprised my early impressions of her music coupled with knowledge acquired later of her reputation as a racial role model. (I was given Kathryn Talalay’s biography of Schuyler a few years ago, but I considered her such a marginal figure that to this day I have not read it.) Remembering dimly that my mother (Mrs. Norma McLaughlin Nelson) had some sheet music by Schuyler as well as her autograph (acquired at a concert my mom attended as a child in Greensboro, North Carolina), I offered to ask my mom if she still had these items in her possession, and if so would she share them with us. Mom looked and confirmed that indeed she did, and she would. Mom sent me scans of the material that I soon forwarded to Bob. After perusing the music he asked if I might consider making an informal recording of the little pieces, and that is when my trip down memory lane began…

Read the entire article and listen to a performance of one of Schuyler’s compositions here.

Monstrous Sex: The Erotic in Naomi Mitchinson’s Science Fiction

Michigan Feminist Studies
Volume 16 (2002): Deviance

Sarah Shaw

“Oh fuck sex!” replied celebrated science-fiction novelist Naomi Mitchison (1897-1999) when Jill Benton, one of her biographers, asked for her views on the topic during the 1980s. Despite Mitichison’s attempts to move the discussion of her body of work from the salacious, it is the frank and open inclusion of sexuality that continues to intrigue her critics and reviewers. Racy, heated passages of Mitchison’s historical novels inspired comment from poet W.H. Auden in the 1930s. And, a reviewer of her first science fiction novel, Memoirs of a Spacewoman (1962), expressed distaste for “an attention to physical details often eyebrow-raising to a mere male.” Benton, Mitchison’s biographer, interprets the author’s dismissive response as a mischievous provocation. I intend to demonstrate that the ribald sexuality of Mitchison’s work registers as more than merely provocative. Sexual encounters between female characters and aliens, as well as those between women, threaten an imperialising capitalism that dictates who may be loved in a gendered, racialised order. Given the constraints of capitalist socialisation, sex must either be marginalised as a private leisure activity or function as a commodified industry. Interspecies, or monstrous, sex in Mitchison’s science fiction connects a woman’s scientific work and public identity with satisfying sexuality over a period of months in a deviant erotic that cannot be separated from life.

Mitchison, as Donna Haraway emphasises, came from the world that produced the Darwins and the Huxleys: a world of “sexual experimentation; political radicalism; unimpeded scientific literacy; literary self-confidence; a grand view of the universe from a rich, imperialist, intellectual culture—these were Mitchison’s birthright.” (1995, 88). Mitchison’s continued focus upon the sexual, particularly female sexuality, grounds this investigation because she illustrates how women’s sexual pleasure both reflects and produces the political. While we credit the feminist movement of the 1970s with birthing the influential mantra “the personal is political,” Mitchison’s science fiction demonstrates a much earlier engagement with precisely that relationship. Additionally, Mitchison during her sixties to her eighties, during the years of her life when we assume in this culture that members of society somehow lose interest in sex and sexuality, still published subversive, progressive and provocative science fiction. While I focus upon the 1962 novel Memoirs of a Spacewoman in this essay, Mitchison’s other late novels, such as Solution Three (1975) and Not By Bread Alone (1983), share a similar preoccupation with female sexuality. These subversive revisions of female sexuality are still relevant in the new millennium. As science fiction writer Ursula K. Le Guin noted in a commendation of Solution Three, it “could have been written yesterday, and will certainly be read tomorrow.”  Because of attention to female sexuality in Mitchison’s science fiction, her work has been read as an exception to the “viciously militaristic…and deeply misogynistic and patriarchal” rule of the genre during the 1960s. Yet rather than feminist writers of science fiction such as Charlotte Perkins Gilman in the US or Katharine Burdekin and Charlotte Haldane, her own sister-in-law, in the UK, Mitchison understood moralists and prophets including William Morris, HG Wells and Olaf Stapledon as her precursors. Despite the arguably masculinist tradition of thought to which Mitchison credits her intellectual instruction, she always positioned feminist concerns within her conversation. For example, with Stapledon, during the 1930s, she had “discussed everything from growing potatoes to world politics and back again, but mostly science fiction.” She cautioned him against presenting ideas which would further patriarchal ideology.

This kind of critical engagement makes Mitchison a foremother within the feminist movement. However, I want to focus upon a set of specific contributions that Mitchison makes to the discussion of female sexuality: her ability to connect in prism-like fashion interracial sexual relations, mother-child intimacy, and female autoeroticism through the lens of female eroticism. Female sexuality not oriented toward men’s pleasure persists as an aberration in our social fabric (what Mitchison represents as monstrous) to the point where touch and affection between women in public may provoke verbal or physical abuse. While adult women’s sexuality is celebrated in magazines that discuss how to look sexy (by buying the right clothes and cosmetics), how to please yourself (by shopping for the right dildo or anal beads, or the right book), and how to give perfect head or achieve perfect penetration, “for many women the erotic is not an integral part of who they experience themselves to be but an attribute they can create in the right circumstances.” And it is this crucial distinction between sexuality and the erotic that distinguishes Mitchison’s work. Whereas women’s sexuality merely responds, the erotic initiates or constitutes women’s position within society. Were the erotic to pervade our lives at a deep level, were we to become sexual beings in any circumstances rather than only “the right circumstances,” then who knows what the consequences might be? In a 1980 interview, Audre Lorde insists “it is in the interest of a capitalist profit system for us to privatize much of our experience,” but “the erotic weaves throughout our lives, and integrity is a basic condition that we aspire to…I do not believe that sexuality is separate from living.” As a Black lesbian feminist, Lorde knows how women’s sexuality has been defined as monstrous and worthy of eradication because of racism, sexism, heterosexism and homophobia. I argue that what Mitchison’s represents as monstrous sexual relations in her science fiction is the erotic. Furthermore, it is the erotic that appears as deviant within the dominant social register…

…Miscegenation Blues, a collection of writing by more than forty women of mixed racial heritage, some of whom were born in the early 1960s, explores issues of identity, loyalty and belonging within cultures divided by histories of racialised domination. Divergent and often painful accounts from the melting pot problematise celebrations of hybridity in which racial mixing is envisaged as the normal state and desirable future of humanity. Editor Carol Camper sees such a goal as naïve, since it “leaves the race work up to the mixed people and it means the annihilation of existing racial groups and our entire histories and cultures as though we are obsolete.” A history of European invasion and domination of what are now Africa, the Americas, Australia and parts of Asia makes these objections readily comprehensible. Views of the hegemony of US culture dominated by values inherited from the European tradition, appropriation of ethnic or cultural differences in the service of commerce, and assertions of the dependency of the First World on over-developed countries make them prudent.

It is instructive to ask how we have been mixing our races ever since the notion of race was consolidated somewhere around the sixteenth century and to recall the history of rapes, lynchings, illegalities and minute categorisations of admixtures of wrong-coloured blood (as if blood is Black or White) involved in these combinations. Racial discrimination in education, housing, employment, health care and legal systems still weighs heavily on those labelled Black and other, as Jayne O. Ifekwunigwe emphasises in her examination of manufactured identities and social inequality. Ifekwunigwe concludes that it is, “the persistence of this same bi-racialised hatred that gives salience and lends credence to Black as a political affiliation for métis(se) people.” Yet arguments that races and cultures should not mix but remain distinct only reinforce systems of racialised economic domination. Hazel Carby, who argues that structures of dominance form everyone as a racialised subject and that we should always recognise the normative category of Whiteness which forms and excludes racialised others, also emphasises cultural complexity rather than purity and calls for desegregation of apartheid systems of housing and education.

The genre of science fiction, in which not only technological but also social norms are transgressed as a matter of course, allows Mitchison to make the relationship between Mary and T’o, and the birth of their “curly, coffee-coloured daughter,” explicitly unremarkable. After a childhood during which she accepted her mother’s “great worship of the British Empire,” Mitchison learned to question the racism that partly formed her. Travelling in the USA in 1935, with Zita Baker, she met Black and White people working together in the Southern Tenant Farmers’ Union in Memphis.She thought about colonialism and racism, and reviewed novels such as George Lamming’s In the Castle of my Skin.  In 1956 she visited Egypt and in 1957 West Africa, where she heard Kwame Nkrumah speak in Ghana. In 1960, at her home in Carradale, Scotland, she met Linchwe, Paramount Chief designate of the Bakgatla, an ethnic group of present-day Botswana. Invited by him to the tribal village of Mochudi, she was acknowledged in 1963 as a “mother of the tribe.” Her enthusiasm for Black Africa resulted in her being banned from the Republic of South Africa under apartheid. The future imagined in Memoirs of a Spacewoman displays Mitchison’s desire for the eradication of racial discrimination…

Read the entire article here.