The America That Is Not For Me: Part 13

I took a class in New York called Writing Intensive. It was an engaging and interactive class that brought a pastiche of perspectives, ideas, bodies of literature, literary theory, and the basic principles of literary criticism in one place―my multicultural class. It was an interesting class.

The overall objectives of this course included improving students’ compositional competences and critical-thinking skills, deepening their knowledge and learning strategies and communications skills through in-class reading comprehension exercises and series of structured home-based writing assignments, and extensive in-class discussions and debates between professor and students and among students. The course was meant to be structurally ecumenical in philosophic outlook.

The class was an eye-opening exploration of segmented periods in the human experience―broadly speaking.

We studied colonialism and imperialism, slavery and the Trans-Atlantic Slave Trade, the sociology of knowledge, post-colonialism, African literature, poetry, modernism, and the economics of slavery.

The course required students to read a handful of books in addition to essays and poems and chapter readings from various other books. We read Tsitsi Dangarembga’s Nervous Conditions, Rudyard Kipling’s Kim, Henry R. Haggard’s King Solomon’s Mines, and George Orwell’s Burmese Days and chapters from Edward Said’s Orientalism, Frantz Fanon’s Black Skin, White Masks, and Albert Memmi’s The Colonizer and the Colonized.

We also read an Orwell essay “Shooting an Elephant” and a Kipling poem “The White Man’s Burden.”

There was something amiss with this class, though. There was never any mention of the Trans-Saharan Slave Trade and its brutality, the links among slavery and the prison-industrial complex racial profiling in America, and the lingering impact of slavery on the behavior and psychology of generations of African Americans. I’d learn about these subjects many years later on my own by reading Wole Soyinka’s Of Africa, Joy DeGruy’s Post Traumatic Slave Syndrome: America's Legacy of Enduring Injury and Healing, Michelle Alexander’s The New Jim Crow, Howard Zinn’s A People’s History of the United States, and Douglas Blackmon’s Slavery by Another Name.

Most important, there were neither critical counter-narratives nor serious epistemic alternatives to the body of works we studied and discussed in class. It’d would take my close reading of the extensive writings of Ama Mazama, Toni Morrison, Molefi Kete Asante, Cheikh Anta Diop, Ivan Van Sertima, Martin Bernal, Chandra Kant Raju, Theophile Obenga, Carter G. Woodson, Kofi Kissi Dompere, Edward Said, Wole Soyinka, Henry Louis Gates, Jr., WEB Du Bois, Chinua Achebe, and several others to help me unearth the necessary tools I could use to effectively critique the revisionist twists and underlying Eurocentric assumptions of the texts we read in our Intensive Writing class.

As with my World History class we neither studied nor focused on the moral, philosophical and political voices of Nelson Mandela and the African National Congress (ANC), of the Mau Mau, of the Nama and Herero people of Namibia, of Native Americans and Aboriginal Australians, of Martin Luther King, Jr. and Malcom X, of Patrice Lumumba, and of countless others from around the world. Neither did we study the Namibian Holocaust, apartheid, the Palestinian question, Jim Crowism, the stateless Kurds and Roma, and the Kaiser-sponsored Holocaust in the Congo. That the epistemic thrust anent this class was narrow was too obvious to ignore.

Instead of an inclusive voice defining an important course that should have taken on the epistemic character of multiculturalism rather than an engrossed infatuation with the opinionated epistemology of Western colonial and postcolonial life, the controlling voice of the master race took charge of class discourse. This self-imposed voice permeated the multicultural epistemology of pedagogy, offering an exegesis of the human experience by way of the imperialistic fingerprints of its idealized, hegemonic, and perceived universalism. Even Said committed the unpardonable intellectual crime of taking Egypt out of Africa and placing it in a mythical geopolitical and historical space, the so-Called Middle East, where it actually didn’t belong, but, while the Freudian psychoanalysis of Fanon had long since been dead and buried eons ago with the unscientific ghosts of dinosaurs and mammoths, both intellectuals did have the moral and political wherewithal to speak to the human experience so convincingly with peerless erudition.

My conclusion was that the Writing Intensive class was far from the stimulating oversight and instructional rigor of critical-thinking strategies. On the one hand, I learned more about alternative critical insights into the topics I’d later study in my Writing Intensive class on the streets of Harlem, but on the other, a handful of knowledgeable and widely read new friends I’d made across America introduced me to an extensive body of knowledge I never knew before. I tried bringing this critical body of knowledge and alternative perspectives to bear on the discussions and debates we had in my Writing Intensive class but my tactic wasn’t overwhelmingly welcomed. The tactic met with some resistance from my Irish-American professor specifically.

I understood then that knowledge construction, education, curriculum development, and knowledge transfer were primarily a one-way street, essentially colonial and political in nature. In that these pedagogic tools were not designed to ruffle the status quo, they stifled critical thinking and alternative perspectives. Only the perceived overriding voice of the West seemed to matter in the history of ideas―but the grandstanding illogic of this outrageous yet popular perception in Western psychology also seems to be lost on curriculum developers, textbook authors, university professors, and philosophers of education, all of whom operate largely out of the traditional canon of Western thinking. Far more important is Asante’s position that teaching is primarily “a political act,” in which case the ideological conflict between Boaventura de Sousa Santos’ “abyssal thinking” and Paulo Freire’s “critical pedagogy” resolves into an interesting question of epistemic and philosophical limpidity, is incontrovertibly apt. Asante writes (2017):

“Modern Western thinking is an abyssal thinking. It consists of a system of visible and invisible distinctions, the invisible ones being the foundation of the visible ones. The invisible distinctions are established through radical lines that divide social reality into realms, the realm of ‘this side of the line’ and the realm of ‘the other side of the line’…‘For Boaventura there is this notion that the ‘other side’ becomes nonexistent, without reality, in abysmal thinking. Only one side or position is existent it is the side with the wealth, power, and military. Thus what is derived from the so-called nonexistent is neither relevant nor considerable; it is radically excluded, and thus beyond the abyss. The most abysmal idea about abyssal thinking is that there is no possibility of co-existence. When it is educational it becomes a rampant assertion of a right to exist without others; it is at its source arrogant, supremacist, and war-minded.’”

It’s important that this conflict underpinning the American educational system is overthrown and a more inclusive paradigm of looking at the human experience put in its place, for any paradigm of knowledge construction, education, curriculum development, and knowledge transfer should embrace a balanced spectrum of critical perspectives in the marketplace of ideas. This radical appeal to inclusive knowledge applies to the African context as well, if not more so. The purport of my position obviously points to a clarion call for an educational formula that empowers rather than enslaves the African mind. This means decentering the hegemonic colonial syllabus in favor of a more centered approach to curriculum development and inclusive epistemology.

What’s more, the provocative and outlandish claim that the idea of Europe represents the mind, voice, and center of the universe of humanity has no place both in the shared intersectionality of ideas and the evolving epistemology of multiculturalism in institutions of learning. It’s therefore no use arguing against the notion that―for all practical purposes―the perceived centeredness, universalism, and primacy of the Western mind in the development of ideas in no way, shape, or form is borne out by the facts of history, archeology, science, and common sense.

It is for this reason that Asante’s Kemet, Afrocentricity and Knowledge is such an important work, in that it completely dismantles the existing structures of imperialist and hegemonic monopoly which the West wields over institutions of learning, curriculum development, and development of textbooks. Looking at the evolution of human civilizations, the human experience and the history of ideas exclusively from the perspective of the traditional Eurocentric context, is no longer a methodological formula either for understanding the multifaceted complexity of human development or for solving problems unique to the larger African world. This places enormous burden on the leadership of the African World to come up with radical ideas to address the myriad of challenges confronting the larger African world. This task involves questioning the assumptions of education currently in place across the African world. Woodson notes (1933):

“The Negro, whether in Africa or America, must be directed toward a serious examination of the fundamentals of education, religion, literature, and philosophy as they have been expounded to him. He must be sufficiently enlightened to determine for himself whether these forces have come into his life to bless him or to bless his oppressor. After learning the facts in the case the Negro must develop the power of execution to deal with these matters as do people of vision. ”

This statement clearly and boldly defines the larger purpose of education―the philosophic and psychological utility of centeredness and location. When you are well rooted or centered in your culture and history and humanity and experiences, it is then that you can extend yourself over and begin to appreciate and fully embrace other levels of cultures and histories and experiences external to your centered realities. Centeredness challenges you by putting you in a better position to interrogate assumptions you’ve always taken for granted about your particular culture and history and humanity and experiences, to push your horizon and convictions beyond the frontiers of your particularistic ethos within a pluralistic world of competing perspectives and assumptions about the human condition, and to critically turn the strengths and weaknesses of your culture and history and humanity and experiences into an essentialist framework that, in and of itself, serves as corrective oversight of realities external to your particularistic experiences.

This type of education provides useful historical and contemporary role models and templates for personal, communal, and national development. In a speech entitled “The African Genius,” Kwame Nkrumah, Ghana’s first president, offered the following insights into the philosophical form of education he intended for the African world (Sutherland-Addy & Manuh, 2013):

“First and foremost, I would emphasize the need for a re-interpretation and a new assessment of the factors which make up our past. We have to recognize frankly that African Studies, in the form in which they have been developed in the universities and centers of learning in the West, have been largely influenced by the concepts of old style “colonial studies,” and still to some extent remain under the shadow of colonial ideologies and mentality…

“…The study of African social institutions and cultures was subordinated in varying degrees to the effort to maintain the apparatus of colonial power…

“When I speak of the African genius, I mean something different from Negritude, something not apologetic, but dynamic. Negritude consists in a mere literary affectation and style, which piles up word upon word and image upon image with occasional reference to Africa and things African. I do not mean a vague brotherhood based on a criterion of color, or on the idea that Africans have no reasoning but only sensitivity. By the African genius I mean something positive, our socialist conception of society, the efficiency and validity of our traditional statecraft, our highly developed code of morals, our hospitality and our purposeful energy…

“…In my view, a man’s education must also be measured in terms of the soundness of his judgement of people and things, and in his power to understand and appreciate the needs of his fellow men and to be of service to them. The educated man should be so sensitive to the conditions around him that he makes it his chief endeavour to improve hose conditions for the good of all.”

Inclusive balance humanizes curriculum development and opens up new avenues for culturalizing education in the American context. The progressive and humanistic visions of thinkers such as Nkrumah, Asante, Diop, and Woodson are not what African institutions of learning represent today―regrettably. It’s important we acknowledge that the larger vision and lifetime activist work of an influential thinker and researcher, such as Asante, are geared toward the institutionalization of multicultural inclusiveness and African-centered approach to knowledge production, curriculum and textbook development, and knowledge transfer.

Thus decolonizing institutions of learning, curriculum and textbook development, knowledge production and transfer in the belly of the West and across the African world becomes integral part of this international project. Decolonizing education across Africa, in America and other parts of the world is long overdue, in the main. In the meantime, these thinkers believe the African world to be capable of independent intellective thought and epistemic civilization, of vocal and moral assertiveness on its own behalf, and of growth and development of human capital without the patronizing, scheming intentions of killjoys who have been bleeding its resources and exploiting its humanity for more than four centuries.

Knowledge of the African-centered approach does not imply outright rejection of the rest world or ideas that are of potential utility for solving problems in the African context. Knowledge of the African-centered approach requires critical assessment of ideas external to the African reality.

These radical ideas have informed my approach to formal education and intellectual development. The same ideas also began to show up in the writings I submitted for my Writing Intensive class, and in the discussions and debates we had in this class. I turned in essays that I’d spent sleepless nights and countless hours researching for and writing, compositional works for which I would earn profuse commendations from my professor. The professor confided in me after one of our class sessions that I always wrote the best well-researched papers. I also earned approbations from my professor for my passionate and informed contributions to class debates and discussions. I thought I deserved these serial approbations because I found them appropriate for the special context of my tireless efforts that yielded the best outcomes in whatever I invested in, including school work.

But ironically, I wasn’t getting A’s for my “best” essays. Neither did I notice comments in red ink pointing to errors in my body of writings. I went to my professor anent the glaring mismatch between the profuse praises he heaped on me on account of my quality work and the unexpected marks. It was in his office that I met two white girls from the same class, who had gone to see him regarding how best they could write their next essays to conform to his fastidious expectations. The essays they had gone to see the professor about had corrective annotated comments in red ink all over them. Yet each girl got an A for her paper.

It was too late to cover up anything. I had seen it all, and they had seen it all, too. The girls knew why I was there. The professor knew why I was there too. He knew because I held out my essay to him and said something about my grade. All three looked visibly shaken from what I had seen. It was clear there was nothing for me to argue about―or to argue for. White privilege was the text the girls had submitted for grading. White privilege always got a perfect score.

I left the office without announcing my departure.
But I did get an A as my final grade.
Guiltiness knew when and how best to make amends, to atone for its sins. Guiltiness finally saw reason about marrying conscience. With A as my final grade, I was now in the comfort zone of white privilege. I was now an honorary beneficiary of the eleemosynary patronage of white privilege. I was now in the privileged league of whiteness. I was now a black man with a white grade. There’s no denying the fact that white privilege is a powerful social and political instrument that has been used to rearrange the social stratification of American society, including the fact that there may exist a direct relationship between white privilege and social mobility. Perhaps ptochocracy may take over the ideological hyoid of America’s plutocracy and oligarchy some day!

Can’t Native Americans, African Americans, Asian Americans, Africans, and Hispanics also enjoy white privilege?

I wish I had seen and experienced snow in Ghana before relocating to the United States. Isn’t it funny for a black person to enjoy white privilege even when he or she has not seen and experienced snow before relocating to a land of snow? Working in snow was the most difficult and challenging undertaking I have ever experienced. What happened to the American Dream? Where exactly is the American Dream buried in the coffin of racial discrimination, social injustice, and white privilege? Why does Noam Chomsky’s Requiem for the American Dream expose the charade that is the American Dream, so-called? Did the ancient Greeks who studied in Africa thousands of years ago and laid the foundation for Greek civilization ever enjoy black privilege?

“What a wonderful world!” sings Louis Armstrong.