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SO! Podcast #79: Behind the Podcast: deconstructing scenes from AFRI0550, African American Health Activism

Welcome to Next Gen sound studies! In the month of November, you will be treated to the future. . . today! In this series, we will share excellent work from undergraduates, along with the pedagogy that inspired them. You’ll read voice biographies (Kaitlyn Liu’s “My Voice, or On Not Staying Quiet,”) check out blog assignments (David Lee’s “Mukbang Cooks, Chews, and Heals”), listen to podcasts, and read detailed histories that will inspire and invigorate. Bet.  –JS

We are thrilled to bring you today’s utter gift from Dr. Nic John Ramos (Drexel University) and Laura Garbes (Brown University) who team taught this tremendous course in the Department of Africana Studies at Brown University called African American Health Activism from Colonialism to AIDS  that used podcasting as a critical venue of knowledge production and a pedagogical tool. The introductory paragraph of their syllabus explains the class as follows:

This historical survey course examines African American activism and social movements from Colonialism and Emancipation to the contemporary period through the lens of African American access to health resources. The course also explores how marginalized peoples and communities are using new digital technologies, such as podcasting, to represent and intervene on historical inequalities. Thus, the course aims to produce public historians who are well versed in the history of medicine from the perspective of African descended peoples AND can produce social justice-oriented digital content based on their knowledge of history and marginalized communities.

In other words– theirs wasn’t a radio or a podcasting themed course, but instead, Professors Ramos and Garbes introduced podcasting to students as a mode of critical thought and expression. As they reflect:

Like many educators, we see podcasting as an opportunity to enter students on the ground floor of an increasingly popular social medium that many conceive of as a potentially more democratic sound space. We firmly believe spaces of sound, such as podcasting, however, cannot truly be democratic unless more people have the knowledge and know-how to enter their voices and the voices of their communities into the fray. In these troubling times, we especially see podcasting as an opportunity to share and tell stories often misheard, untold, and unheard in history and on the radio. It was important to us that our students recognize that the voices of the communities they come from and/or the histories rarely hear elsewhere have a legitimate place in the academy and on the airwaves.

Today, via the form of a podcast, Ramos and Garbes go fantastically meta- on us, introducing one of the final projects from their course–an audio story entitled “Shadows in Harriet’s Dawn” by Brown Undergraduates Mali Dandridge, Sterling Stiger, and Amber Parson— giving us rare insight and commentary on the process. The student work understands Harriet Jacobs (activist and author of Incidents in the Life of a Slave Girl) in the context of enslavement and childhood trauma.  The full transcript of their “Behind the Podcast” podcast follows this introduction. Here’s the students’ podcast description:

Through the re-telling of American author and former slave Harriet Jacobs’s girlhood from her autobiography ​Incidents in the Life of a Slave Girl ​there is an opportunity to learn about the adverse childhood experiences (ACEs) of children of American slavery. Harriet’s 19th-century trials of navigating complicated family dynamics, emotional abuse, and sexual harassment at a young age are analyzed in the lens of the modern science supporting the clinical ACEs questionnaire tool. This podcast will hopefully mark the beginning of creating more discussions that uncover the social determinants of well-being and trauma in a way that could be helpful even for the struggles of modern day youth.

You may also download the syllabus for their course (African American Health Activism Syllabus 1.25.2018 ), along with their Podcast Pitching Assignment (AFRI 0550 Pitching Assignment for Webpage),  a process assignment they named the “fieldwork summary prompt” (AFRI0550 Fieldwork Summary Prompt), and the grading rubric for this assignment (AFRI0550 Podcast Grading Rubric). In addition, Ramos and Garbes have also generously documented this experience via their collaborative website: Case Study: Afri 0550, A PEDAGOGICAL APPROACH TO STORYTELLING AND TECHNOLOGY that you absolutely MUST check out. We all have so much to learn!

CLICK HERE TO DOWNLOAD: SO! Podcast 79: Behind the Podcast: deconstructing scenes from AFRI0550, African American Health Activism

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Behind the Podcast: deconstructing scenes from AFRI0550, African American Health Activism

In this podcast, Dr. Nic John Ramos and Laura Garbes introduce Shadows in Harriet’s Dawn, a final audio project by Mali Dandridge, Sterling Stiger, and Amber Parson. They analyze the project in the context of the course, African American Health Activism, taught at Brown University in spring 2019. The two reflect on how beginner technical and ethical training come together within in the audio story. Resources mentioned within this podcast provided at the end of this transcript. Listeners are highly encouraged to listen to this as a piece of the larger course blog, written by Laura and Nic, and developed as a webpage by Leo Selvaggio, Instructional Media Specialist at the Brown MML.

Nic Ramos: Hi, this is Nic John Ramos.

Laura Garbes: Hi, this is Laura Garbes,

NR: and this is, Behind the Podcast…

LG: …deconstructing scenes from African American Health Activism.

NR: Laura, what are we doing in this podcast?

LG: Right, So first of all, we’re trying to display a really awesome audio story that our students made. That’s first and foremost. But we’re also using it as a teaching tool, right?

NR: Yeah, that’s right. For our class called African American Health Activism from Colonialism to AIDS, which is taught in the Department of Africana Studies here at Brown University. This historical survey course examines African American activism and social movements from colonialism and emancipation to the contemporary period, through the lens of African American access to health resources. The course also explores how marginalized people and communities are using new digital technologies such as podcasting to represent and intervene on historical inequalities. The course aims to produce public historians who are well versed in the history of medicine from the perspective of African-descended peoples and can produce social justice oriented digital content based on their knowledge of history and marginalized communities.

LG: Yeah. So part of this is really giving space to show the great work on this audio story on Harriet Jacobs and childhood trauma. Through doing so, we want to touch on a few things behind the process that will be good for educators looking to implement similar projects in their own classrooms.

NR: If you’re interested in learning more about podcasting as a pedagogical tool, check out our webpage.

LG: Well, check out our webpage, which will put it in the show notes later. Always with the show notes.. [laughs] Right, because there were going to put in a bunch of sound clips of this and sort of a step by step guide of how to replicate the process assigning a podcast. And, you know, there are other sources out there and we linked them at the end of that guide. But what we really wanted to emphasize was like… Okay, cool there is a lot of stuff on the technical recording and the technical interviewing pieces. And then there’s some scholarship, notably Dr. Jenny Lynn Stoever on the sonic color line, and the cultural politics of listening and how our listening ear has been conditioned. We weren’t really finding something that kind of weaves those two together, and we really think it’s important that when we’re teaching the technique, it not be divorced from that theory.

NR: The podcast we’re showcasing today is called Shadows in Harriet’s Dawn, on the childhood trauma of American slavery, through the retelling of American author and former slave Harriet Jacobs’ girlhood from her autobiography, Incidents in the Life of a Slave Girl. There’s this opportunity that our students saw to learn about the adverse childhood experiences of children of American slavery. This podcast will hopefully mark the beginning of creating more discussions that uncover the social determinants of well-being and trauma in a way that could be helpful even for the struggles of modern-day youth.

LG: Yes, okay, so this podcast was created by three students in your class. Amber, Sterling and Molly. So, let’s take a listen.

Upbeat, childlike music

Incidents in the Life of a Slave Girl Archive #1: I was born a slave; but I never knew it till six years of happy childhood had passed away. (Chapter I)

Children’s music box mixed in with the sound of children laughing

Archive #1: My father was a carpenter, and considered so intelligent and skilful in his trade, that, when buildings out of the common line were to be erected, he was sent for from long distances, to be head workman. On condition of paying his mistress two hundred dollars a year, and supporting himself, he was allowed to work at his trade, and manage his own affairs. His strongest wish was to purchase his children; but, though he several times offered his hard earnings for that purpose, he never succeeded. In complexion my parents were a light shade of brownish yellow, and were termed mulattoes. They lived together in a comfortable home; and, though we were all slaves, I was so fondly shielded that I never dreamed I was a piece of merchandise, trusted to them for safe keeping, and liable to be demanded of them at any moment. (Chapter I)

Loud thump

Silence

Mali: But, almost inevitably, the fond shielding around Harriet would cease to exist, profoundly changing her life for the worse.

Sterling: For Harriet, the context in which that happy childhood took place would be revealed to be one filled with abuse and trauma.

Amber: Trauma works to stay hidden and unexposed. It knows how and when to enter into the crawl space, and it is always on the run to move from generation to generation.

Amber: My name is Amber and I am here alongside my other fellow classmates

Pauses

Sterling: Hello, I’m Sterling.

Pauses

Mali: Hi, I’m Mali.

Amber: And we’re here today to explore Harriet Jacobs’ story in relation to childhood trauma.

LG: Ok Nic. I’m going to stop this right here, just to say two and a half minutes have passed. That’s it. And there’s already a collection here of kind of really rich sound clips. You hear from the archive an approximation of Harriet Jacobs’s voice straight from the very beginning. You hear different types of music. You hear their own voices that have to be cut out of different sound clips. It’s already getting pretty complex. And as we’ll kind of see as we go into it, they’ll go on to cut in all of the interviewees’ voices and introductions so that you’ve got a sort of sense of where we’re going.

NR: Yeah, what I really love about this is that they’ve really set the tone and mood, but also have given us a clue about where they want to take this podcast, what direction they want to take this podcast. What I really love about this is that we get already a very historical context, that they’re drawing out how they want to connect it to really present-day issues.

LG: And I think two things really made those possible. So first is the fact that we have trainings at the MML at Brown, which in that digital resource guide we mentioned there’s the stuff that is going to be available on arranging tracks. When you specifically focus on arranging tracks, it makes it possible for first-time podcasters to think a little bit more creatively instead of saying: we’re going to put the entire chunk of what we recorded from person A, the entire chunk from person B, and we’ll do our analysis in the end. You can see that they’re being creative. They’re interspersing these things like quotes in an academic essay or a historical essay.

NR: Yeah. What I love is that we’re going to hear in the next couple minutes all the people that they’re going to interview as experts to craft an argument and perspective on Harriet Jacobs.

LG: Let’s listen.

Sterling: Through the  re-telling of this American author and former slave’s girlhood from her autobiography Incidents in the  Life of a Slave Girl, there is an opportunity to learn about the adverse childhood experiences, or ACEs, of children in American slavery.

Mali: Harriet’s 19th-century trials of navigating slavery, complicated family dynamics, emotional abuse, and sexual harassment at a young age have a lot to reveal about trauma and the different ways it is able to manifest itself. We hope to offer both a lens of social and scientific understanding of these complexities using knowledge from the following expert sources, starting with our guest Anna Thomas.

Cheeky, academic music

Enter: Montage of guest speakers

Anna: I am a PhD candidate in the English Department at Brown. I am graduating this year, and I work on African American literature alongside Caribbean literature. I study the relationship between ethics and form in nineteenth and twentieth century African and Caribbean literature.

Ramos: I’m Nic John Ramos I’m the Mellon postdoctoral fellow in Race and Science and Medicine at Brown University.

Dima: My name is Dima Amso, and I am a professor in the Cognitive Linguistic and Psychological Sciences Department. I study brain and cognitive development.

Kevin: My name is Kevin Bath. I am a professor in Cognitive Linguistic and Psychological Sciences. My research focuses on using animal models to understand how real life adversity, especially during early post-neonatal, impact the development of the brain and may drive risk for negative outcomes.

Amber: Through the collective perspectives of us, our guests, and several archival sources, we now present to you the story of Harriet…that is a story that beautifully and remarkably demonstrates resilience towards the mobility of trauma.

19th century music

Archive #1: When I was six years old, my mother died; and then, for the first time, I learned, by the talk around me, that I was a slave. My mother’s mistress was the daughter of my grandmother’s mistress. She was the foster sister of my mother; they were both nourished at my grandmother’s breast. In fact, my mother had been weaned at three months old, that the babe of the mistress might obtain sufficient food. They played together as children; and, when they became women, my mother was a most faithful servant to her whiter foster sister. On her death-bed her mistress promised that her children should never suffer for anything; and during her lifetime she kept her word. They all spoke kindly of my dead mother, who had been a slave merely in name, but in nature was noble and womanly. I grieved for her, and my young mind was troubled with the thought who would now take care of me and my little brother. I was told that my home was now to be with her mistress; and I found it a happy one. No toilsome or disagreeable duties were imposed upon me. My mistress was so kind to me that I was always glad to do her bidding, and proud to labor for her as much as my young years would permit. (Chapter I) I would sit by her side for hours, sewing diligently, with a heart as free from care as that of any free-born white child. When she thought I was tired, she would send me out to run and jump; and away I bounded, to gather berries or flowers to decorate her room. Those were happy days—too happy to last. (Chapter I) The slave child had no thought for the morrow; but there came that blight, which too surely waits on every human being born to be a chattel. (Chapter I)

Science music

Dima: So, in general, some basic principles of brain development are that there’s tremendous amounts of change that happens very early on in postnatal life. So after like about three or four, the brain is sort of fine-tuning rather than showing huge amounts of organization. Even still, the way that the brain develops is that continually tries to adapt to its environment so both positive experiences are highly shaping and negative experiences are highly shaping, um and stress in particular has received a lot of attention in the developmental science community, both with respect to human stressors and animal models that try to recapitulate those and try to understand what’s under the hood so to speak and the idea is that what’s happening with stress and trauma especially early on in postnatal life is that it’s um shaping the system and ways that then get sort of set that sort of set up their brains to have long-term consequences of that stressor.

NR: So that was Dima Amso, one of the interviewees of this podcast. And what I like what the students are doing here is that they’re setting up an expert voice to provide context to what we just heard and we’re going to hear in the future. But as you can tell, they’re going to set up these experts in a way in which they’re able to speak for themselves, and the listener is going to be able to hopefully differentiate the different positions that some experts say without them having to directly say the differences between these experts… if that makes sense.

LG: Yeah, this was a conversation we had in that Q&A discussion. We went in and we talked through techniques with the students. But then we moved on to OK, actually, you’ll have to do a little field work log and then we’ll talk again, because there’s only so much you can do before you actually go out there and interview.

So I think what was great was building in time to actually discuss the interviews, because there were a few instances and a few groups were saying, OK, there some discrepancies here between either different interviewees’ perspectives. Or there were discrepancies between the interviewees’ perspectives and perhaps the main argument trying to be made. Allowing for those differences to kind of breathe, while weaving a cohesive narrative that’s fit for a podcast, is an art, and they sort of have to walk this tightrope. And that was definitely one of the skills of argumentation that could definitely be transferred over for them when they’re writing essays in the future.

NR: You know, the students had to edit, and they had to figure out what story they wanted to tell You can tell that some of these experts are giving a story that conflate animal studies with human behavior in a way that’s really popular in making comparisons today within science. But the students also had to make a decision about whether or not they wanted to go down the road of talking about the history of scientific racism and the conflation of some humans as animals. And while there’s room here is that I know that they had a lot of work to do around just talking about Harriet’s story alone.

You’ll find later that they’ve just left some of these opportunities to delve deeper, where it’s on the listener to think about, make their own conclusions about that.

Let me say a note on ethical interviewing is that when we say ethical interviewing, we’re allowing the experts to speak on their terms. And allowing them, allowing their positions and their thoughts to manifest through the other voices that you’re going to hear right? In the contrast of the comparisons that listeners are going to be able to hear in the different voices and positions they take.

LG: Right and coming up next, as we’ll see, they definitely contextualize all of the different interviewees’ comments, like Sterling here.

Sterling: According to Harriet from her narrative, she had an early childhood with “unusually fortunate circumstances” in comparison to other children of American slavery.

Mali: This understanding of her background is important to truly capture understanding of how events that would impact her later in life would vastly change herself perception regarding her quality of life. In particular, these events would occur after the death of her described “kind mistress” when the mistress’s sister and new husband Dr. Flint claimed ownership of Harriet.

Dima: You know, childhood development isn’t happening in a vacuum, it’s happening in a broader context and a good part of early child development is about the caregiving, no matter how. It’s really interesting to think about the animal models. I do these examples, so we study socioeconomic status in a lab and what they try to do is recapitulate what happens when a great parent gets their resources taken away, so for animals and the mouse studies, you can take away the bedding and make it really hard for them to keep their babies warm and they are just like working so hard to replace that to take care of that and that then stresses them out, which turns out to have consequences on the growing pup later, and then if you add an additional stressor you kind of see how this sort of balloons into multiple now stressors and formative times.

Loud thump

Archive #1: During the first years of my service in Dr. Flint’s family, I was accustomed to share some indulgences with the children of my mistress. Though this seemed to me no more than right, I was grateful for it, and tried to merit the kindness by the faithful discharge of my duties. (Chapter V)

Sound: opening of door…. assertive, domineering footsteps… heartbeat

But I now entered on my fifteenth year—a sad epoch in the life of a slave girl. My master began to whisper foul words in my ear. (Chapter V)

Enter old, southern man whispering

LG: So something I’m hearing here that is fantastic are the sound effects: something to keep our interest, that loud thump you hear before you hear Harriet Jacobs’s voice again.

NR: Just this science music they used…

LG: It’s so on point, right?

NR: Yeah, the science music, the loud thump, opening the door, footsteps, heartbeat, they’re really layering a lot of stuff to keep the listener interested, and many people wouldn’t think about doing that. You could imagine that if they didn’t have these elements in here, you would just be hearing one long monologue, that quite frankly you’d be just bored.

Figure 1: Final Audition Software File for “Shadows in Harriet’s Dawn”

LG: Yeah, kind of nodding off even if it’s really interesting content. You know, the mind can’t really hold onto that for very long. So finding those ways to vary it and each of the students in the class were actually very thoughtful about this. You noticed more and more as they were listening to podcasts throughout the semester, and they were analyzing using that story sheet, they started thinking about the sound effects. They also started thinking about the music that accompanied voices during the interview. So it wasn’t strictly just interviewing sound, and then music. You could see earlier on that Mali put in some music behind her voice, the mixing, and so the way that they’re layering these tracks is reflective of kind of this listening ear they condition throughout the course of the semester. And then the sound of the door opening and footsteps, and then a heartbeat… you can kind of get the emotions associated with it. And that technique was really key to teach in advance.

One thing you’d also hear in this, which is something that I think we talked about a little bit, Nic, is just a little bit of that p popping and noise leveling, right? This is something that had we had a 13 week-semester of something like we would have been able to do a post-production type of review that would have kind of caught all of these things. But as they are now, they are a fantastic final draft. And we really encourage people to play with those techniques in that way. And we also offered within the digital resource guide a tab specifically catering to the postproduction process. So, if we had more time in an ideal world, what would we have taught?

NR: Yeah, exactly. That makes sense.

Archive #1:  He was a crafty man, and resorted to many means to accomplish his purposes. Sometimes he had stormy, terrific ways, that made his victims tremble; sometimes he assumed a gentleness that he thought must surely subdue. Of the two, I preferred his stormy moods, although they left me trembling. He tried his utmost to corrupt the pure principles my grandmother had instilled. He peopled my young mind with unclean images, such as only a vile monster could think of. I turned from him with disgust and hatred. But he was my master. I was compelled to live under the same roof with him—where I saw a man forty years my senior daily violating the most sacred commandments of nature. He told me I was his property; that I must be subject to his will in all things. My soul revolted against the mean tyranny. But where could I turn for protection? No matter whether the slave girl be as black as ebony or as fair as her mistress. In either case, there is no shadow of law to protect her from insult, from violence, or even from death; all these are inflicted by fiends who bear the shape of men. The mistress, who ought to protect the helpless victim, has no other feelings towards her but those of jealousy and rage. The degradation, the wrongs, the vices, that grow out of slavery, are more than I can describe. They are greater than you would willingly believe. (Chapter V)

NR: In the next couple clips, what you’ll hear is a moment where the students knew that they were going to take a pretty lengthy section from one of the experts, Anna. But they didn’t want to lose listener interest. And so they did a really interesting thing, which is that they edited in another sound clip just to add something new.

LG: And that’s that whisper that you’re going to hear. You’ll hear a little bit of a whisper in between that long passage in which Anna has a lot of really rich insights. But they wanted to make sure to parse it out by different argument so that you’re getting each part in a digestible way.

NR: Right, which essentially allows listeners to be able to absorb and think about what they’ve just heard.

Anna: In the structure of the narrative that’s really a turning point of the “difficult passage”- that’s what she calls it -when she in very adolescence begins to experience the sexual persecution and harassment of her master. It’s deeply formative, and she doesn’t know how to talk about it, but there is a perception that the fact that she would even repeat any of the things that he said to her makes her feel like she’s somehow complicit in what’s happening to her and she doesn’t feel like she has any recourse. It’s at that moment where she understands what it means to be owned. In contrast to her early childhood when she somewhat of a normative childhood where she’s in a stable home life, and then suddenly the danger of her passage into early adolescence and womanhood is marked by the fact that someone who owns her is exerting power over her.

Whispers again

Anna: It’s deeply formative when she goes on to the next years of her life, even before she escapes, intent upon trying to find a way to live outside of the fear of him raping her. The choice that she has in relation with him is to either be raped, a choice that is obviously not …, or to capitulate to a relationship into which consent can’t exist (i.e., she does not have a choice, this is not a meaningful choice in any sphere).

Ramos: It’s the idea that certain children, white children, inherently hold an idea of racial purity right or a sort of innocence an idea of who ought to have an innocent childhood or who has the ability to have an innocent childhood. But essentially what you can see is from the 19th century onwards is this idea of racial innocence being ascribed unevenly across the entities of race and gender.

Archive #1: Everywhere the years bring to all enough of sin and sorrow; but in slavery the very dawn of life is darkened by these shadows. Even the little child, who is accustomed to wait on her mistress and her children, will learn, before she is twelve years old, why it is that her mistress hates such and such a one among the slaves. Perhaps the child’s own mother is among those hated ones. She listens to violent outbreaks of jealous passion, and cannot help understanding what is the cause. She will become prematurely knowing in evil things. (Chapter V)

Heartbeats

Archive #1: Soon she will learn to tremble when she hears her master’s footfall. She will be compelled to realize that she is no longer a child. If God has bestowed beauty upon her, it will prove her greatest curse. (Chapter V)

Brief musical interlude

Amber: In order to understand the direct and intergenerational impacts of the adverse childhood experiences that Harriet faced, we have to dive deeper into her life starting with the years of her young adulthood in which she began her escape from slavery.

Sterling: A complicating series of events occurs as a direct result of Dr. Flint pressuring Harriet to have a sexual relationship with him. Rather than being raped by Flint, Harriet made the difficult decision to consent to an illicit relationship and have children with Samuel Tredwell Sawyer, a white attorney who was their neighbor.

Brief musical interlude

Anna: What she does in that context is to enter into a relationship with the man who becomes the father for her two children and part of how she’s thinking of that is that once her master knows he will want to discard her and that this man might be able to purchase her freedom. Thinking about questions of consent and thinking about questions of power, even within the narrative Harriet Jacobs does not have a way of naming that relationship that she has. She calls him the father of her children. She calls him a man who does not own her, she calls him a man that does not despise. You know any other words that we might want to say it like her lover, her partner, her any of these words are so impossible in on the context in which one party is enslaved. When she goes on to have two children and when she has her daughter, she is struck with the sorrow of imagining her daughter having the same exact experiences of childhood that she herself had.

Mali: As a result of Harriet’s strategy of coupling up with Sawyer to make Flint refrain himself from her, Flint became more frustrated with her. Flint’s frustration made Harriet wary of his potential to further abuse her and her children. In a complicated series of plans she made to escape slavery and protect her children, she ended up having to remain hidden in the crawlspace of a garret for seven years.

Somber music

Archive #1: A small shed had been added to my grandmother’s house years ago. Some boards were laid across the joists at the top, and between these boards and the roof was a very small garret, never occupied by anything but rats and mice. It was a pent roof, covered with nothing but shingles, according to the southern custom for such buildings. The garret was only nine feet long, and seven wide. The highest part was three feet high, and sloped down abruptly to the loose board floor. There was no admission for either light or air. My uncle Philip, who was a carpenter, had very skillfully made a concealed trap door, which communicated with the storeroom. He had been doing this while I was waiting in the swamp. The storeroom opened upon a piazza. To this hole I was conveyed as soon as I entered the house. (Chapter XXI)

Sounds of nightfall (crickets, owls etc)

The air was stifling; the darkness total. A bed had been spread on the floor. I could sleep quite comfortably on one side; but the slope was so sudden that I could not turn on the other without hitting the roof. The rats and mice ran over my bed; but I was weary, and I slept such sleep as the wretched may, when a tempest has passed over them. (Chapter XXI)

Morning came. I knew it only by the noises I heard; for in my small den day and night were all the same. I suffered for air even more than for light. But I was not comfortless. I heard the voices of my children. (Chapter XXI)

Audio of children laughing

Anna : I think one thing that she says in the narrative is she tells us about the injuries of enslavement and their continuities from her time in the garret that restricted space is marked by her body through chronic pain for the rest of life and she tells us that. There’s something very important to attend to in the way that she’s figuring pain and justice, and so that even as she’s moving… her freedom is eventually purchased which makes her very angry because she thinks that that purchase validates slavery in a way that she would not have chosen at that point in her life. But she also is telling us that there are continuities between enslavement and freedom and one of the places where that’s located is precisely about about pain and about chronic pain and it is not a metaphorical pain – her body was in the cramp position for seven years.

Moving and thinking more about the topic of your class, I think that the legacies of injustice are marked generationally and and it’s also about questions of access to healthcare, access to diagnoses, and access to all these things that Jacobs and the way that she is thinking about about justice and the sort of promises that justice doesn’t always keep even when you’re in freedom. I think she has a lot to say about what is sort of carried through and then structurally supported by a system that is only justice in name.

Kevin: You could also think about that and you can also think about intergenerational transmission of these kinds of experiences, so how they’re basically perpetuated again there been studies in the case of animal models where it’s looking at the quality of care that the animal has received from its mother or in the case of other models you can remove either the mother of the father. So it’s not unique to the mother, it’s about the quality of care they’re receiving per se. But if you change the quality of care and you give the pups high levels of care versus low levels of care, it can actually drive risk for developing behaviors that look like anxiety, like behaviors in those animals and then when they have their first litter of animals, they exhibit the type of care that they received when they were very young, basically showing that how mom treated you when you were young basically perpetuates how you are going to treat your children and then you look at the first generation of offspring of those and you cross fostered them, you could actually see the perpetuation of this through just the genetic information is provided from the father to the female offspring. The female offspring, when they have their first babies, they become mothers like their fathers’ mothers were.

Ramos: Yeah, a lot of people think about intergenerational trauma in very different ways. So, if I took Lewis Joylyn West’s idea of epigenetics you could think about some people coming along and saying well can my genetics be passed along. Meaning that my predisposition to violence: could that be genetically passed on to my children? And there is definitely some of that that you might say that Lewis Joylyn West was thinking about this is his idea that there is such thing as violent people. But I do think that the other way that most people think about it is, intergenerational trauma is a fact. It’s something that people grow up with.

NR: Wow. So there’s so much here to talk about.

LG: All these different voices. You see how they arrange that to have conversation back to back of Anna, then Kevin, and then Nic.

NR: Right, and I think that what you see here is that they’re allowing the listener to think things through. You know, if they had another pass at it, I would encourage them to think about how… you know, what some of these experts are bringing to the fore, and how to punctuate what each of the differences are. So, for instance, they used my voice

LG: Is it weird to listen to your own voice recording?

NR: It really is [laughs]

As a historian of psychiatry, to talk about epidemiology of violence theory, which becomes popularized in the seventies and eighties as a supposedly colorblind or race-neutral way of saying that neither Black or white people are inherently predisposed to violence as was previously believed, and that what we need to start looking at is how violence is passed along through exposure in childhood. And so you can definitely hear both of those ideas come to the fore, especially in the way in which… you know… the irony that Kevin and Demas narratives provide in this podcast is that now scientists are using animal studies to make arguments for the humanity of children exposed to trauma during their childhood. But for the longest time, these conflations with animal studies were used for the opposite sense to make, particularly people of color more animal-like. So one of those things is they read an article of mine that basically argued for “Why did we have this switch” And it was basically these ideas of that we now know and term epigenetics that were not used in the seventies in the same way that they’re being used today.

But epidemiology of violence theory is this theory that argues that it’s not about Black or white people. It’s not about race. It’s about exposure to violence, as we saw in the eighties and the nineties. How these ideas of who is violent gets played out means that communities of color being policed. And these are all points that I think could have been a little bit more attenuated at this moment of the podcast and could have been punctured with some sort of other material. I don’t know.

LG: Well, I think this kind of points to one of the challenges of teaching in a class, simultaneously teaching content and teaching techniques on how to communicate that content to the public. In an ideal world, it would be just so amazing if there were some two-semester sequence where we could really work with the material, work with the syllabus, well, learning the techniques and then move forward in the second semester, applying those techniques to create a narrative. But I think what’s quite challenging is it’s hard to distance yourself from materials that you have just learned, right? Because we’re in a learning community. We’re there twice a week, every week. And it’s very easy to start assuming that what you know is common knowledge. So, I think I’m happy that you unpack that a bit for us Nic. So even another pass through would have sort of given an explanatory comma to all of these different portions that can get sort of jargony. But again, it’s hard to step back when you’re in a class setting.

NR: Well, I think also what’s really surprising to me is that my students understand epidemiology violence as so normalized. You know, what they learned in my class is the first time they’re dealing with what we’re talking about here, sometimes it’s the first time they’re learning about these things. And so what’s interesting about this is that epidemiology of violence theory is so normalized in their generation, they felt like it doesn’t didn’t need to bear any comment. And that was really surprising to me.

LG: Yeah, that was really interesting. And then as we move along, they’re going to continue your voice here as they sort of draw out a different comparison that you’ve made or a different example.

So, for instance, when Art Spiegelman came out with Maus which is this graphic novel about a descendant of a Jewish family who is inquisitive about the what happened to his family during the Holocaust. You can see that there is trauma that even the descendants of those people who did not experience that traumatic event like the Holocaust they inherit some of that trauma just by the silences that their families keep. So you can imagine that there’s this big question around of all groups of people who survived some large social community trauma the Holocaust being one of them, slavery being another, genocide, war they are bound. I think there is more work to be done by that but obviously you can see that not all paths of inquiry necessarily lead to the same thing. Some psychiatrists would argue some of the idea of dealing with people’s trauma after the Holocaust led to epidemiology of violence theory. But the other way we can look at intergenerational trauma is it leads us to much more capacious ideas of reparations that are critiquing this the larger structural issues at hand when we’re talking about race, classism, capitalism, sexism, homophobia and so on and so forth that require a much more rigorous consideration for the transformation of society. Everything we know about society.

Mighty rider song

Mali: Yeah, in talking to Ramos, he really shed light on the fact that intergenerational trauma isn’t an isolated incident….

Sterling: Yeah, it’s occurred in multiple populations in multiple time periods and I think that points to the ways in which trauma moves

Amber: In resonance with the “Black Radical Tradition”, a concept explained in work by Black Studies and Political Science Professor Cedric Robinson, children of American slavery and their descendants were propelled through their adversities with various sharps and fragments of resilience. Harriet Jacobs is important because of her intersectional identity of being someone impacted by childhood trauma and of being someone in African American history that used the Black Radical Tradition to work against oppression in her life (i.e., childhood trauma) that resulted from the subjugating, hegemonic knowledges of the time. Harriet’s writing and account of her youth was a radical form of activism and resilience that challenged the people of her time to actually consider black people’s humanity as an extension of their mental and emotional well-being.

NR: I think that this is this is a really fantastic part of the podcast, and it’s easy to miss the argument that my students here are making, which is that what Harriet Jacobs did, you know, to stow away and try to find freedom for seven years in a garret, her ability to kind of try to figure out a way to have a different place for children or her ways in which is thinking about, you know, mental well-being, even though that people passed over this incident of her being they get as not being about health or not being about activism.

My students have positioned Harriet Jacobs work as a part of the Black Radical Tradition, and I think it’s fantastic! And it’s a really interesting way to think about what is the Black Radical Tradition, which my students were asked every week, “What is the Black Radical Tradition?” after reading a portion of Cedric Robinson’s work.

LG: I’ll just say that after week one, when we discussed the Black Radical Tradition, some of the posts that students do.. they post every week reflecting on it. Some of the main questions were around, “What is this Black Radical Tradition?” And also, “So what will we do with this? How will we reapply it? How do we use this to think through issues in the present, right? How do we look at historical cases and see this tradition present?” And I think they did a fantastic job doing exactly what was one of the main learning objective for the course, really just being critical historians and also people that create audio stories.

So through this audio story they’re drawing out that circle argument, and they’re reapplying what I think is a really complex are given a portable theory in the tradition.

NR: Yeah, and as we see in the rest of the podcast, I love is that they turned away from questions of violence and trauma that they could have just stayed with and made a decision to say, “Maybe we’re asking the wrong questions to figure out how to think about this situation, which is to think about resilience.” And I think that’s a really important move, which is not to ignore the violence and the trauma around them, but to show how they’re not going to allow that violence and trauma to define people as broken or damaged, as inherently predisposed to violence. People who are struggling to define their own humanity through resilience.

LG: And as they make this pivot here, which will listen to you in a second, it’s holding these two facts at the same time, holding these two experiences of trauma and resilience as inextricably linked.

Sterling: Just as trauma can be made to be mobile and transferred intergenerationally, resilience has some shared characteristics that are worthy of exploring within the context of Harriet’s story.

Anna: From page one she is still demonstrating extraordinary resilience, and I think one thing that’s very important about the way that she’s thinking about resilience is that she’s not establishing herself as the only resilient person in her world you know if you think about the way that she talks about her grandmother’s extraordinary resilience, her uncle’s extraordinary resilience, the efforts that her parents made before they passed and their extraordinary resilience, and she also in observing her children is seeing the ways that resilience is evidenced in them. I think what she really does is show how… the family structure which is very intent on demonstrating itself as vibrant even as it’s threatened constantly, even as there are family members who have died, even as family members who have been sold away from the family, even in those instances she still very intent on demonstrating the resilience of those relationships that remain and I think that does two things one it speaks to the strength of those ties and the ways that that the world making homemaking are happening throughout her life and also it’s to mark a particular form of loss which is look at this resilience relationship that I have with the uncle who remains to me.

Amber: Wow, I mean being exposed to this sort of loss and hardship from such a young age must have bred resilience within Harriet

Mali: Yeah, so with intergenerational trauma comes intergenerational resilience Anna: But I mean resilience is throughout the text. When her children are imprisoned and attempt to flesh her out of hiding her children are extraordinarily resilient and there’s a moment when one of them after the freed from the prison but not from slavery the master is is saying something to one of them.. ‘you know I want to go back to the jail because I’d rather be in jail than be near you,’ so the ways in which these children are thinking through really complex ideas of freedom and choice and deeply constrained circumstances I think also demonstrate the way that they are building resilience to existing structures that seek to imprison them in multiple registers. I mentioned that her listening and her watching her children I think that is a big source of resilience for her, it’s the one consolation that she has and very extreme physical and spatial circumstances

Brief musical interlude of uplifting music

Ramos: I mean part of it is what we’re missing out of all of this is how people of color, women, queer people of color pass on resiliency they pass on struggle they pass on hope they’d pass on different ideas of what it means to be human. Different ideas of what it means to have a childhood that don’t necessarily line up with all of these very like scientific, erudite definitions of what an innocent childhood should look like. We all know this. As humans we have the capacity to dream otherwise we have the capacity to take on a whole bunch of pain, but there’s so much joy. And that’s one of the difficult things when you’re a historian. You can show all of the pain that’s going on. But what’s more difficult to grasp is how there’s so much resiliency, so much joy, so much struggle in all of that. That is much more difficult.

Sterling: Yeah, it’s important to consider that people often think that there is no joy in black childhood, which simply isn’t true.

Amber: Black children cry, but they also laugh, they get sad, but they also experience bliss. There’s beauty in the struggle, just like any other human experience.

Ramos: Part of it is what is inspiring for me is it seems for Harriet Jacobs that the concept of freedom was not something that was actually here yet. It was in her mind. And that she could go to it in her mind. It’s a future past that is not here but that which people strive for. So, wow we’re getting really philosophical. But that’s all just to say that’s the irony and the contradiction of Harry Jacobs form of the black radical tradition. You can only see it by looking at how it’s been made into our crawl space. And that’s really profound. It’s a much more damning critique of modernity than it is of anything else, which is why I’m saying we need radical transformation of society. You know what does that mean for people’s everyday lives. Well I don’t know.

Dima: Resilience, I think, is really the million-dollar question right now in the science. That’s where we spend hours of our lives listening to talks and trying to understand because everybody wants to bottle resilience and it’s a very complicated issue because of the individual variability in resilience, so there are two ways to think of it: one is that there is some good evidence that there is a genetic predisposition to resilience and there’s this gentleman named Thomas Boyce who does really great work, and he’s written a book called Orchids and Dandelions and what that means is that some children are dandelions, they’re weeds– you can put them in any environment and they’re going to thrive. And some children are orchids– they will thrive but you have to have exactly the perfect environment. And a lot of that, he has been able to do good work to associate that in humans with genetic predispositions and there’s only one aspect of it. Other things that support resilience is, there’s a wonderful book by a woman named Ann Masten at the University of Minnesota and she calls it “ordinary magic,” where resilience isn’t coming with like anything fancy, but it’s coming from the basic, having your basic needs as a human met. Competence, confidence, as a child, feeling like you can do things, support, caregiving, positive interactions with your peers. All those things have been show to support resilience in the developing individual. So having really, you know, if you’re a house, having that house built on solid foundations with respect to the self, and the self as competent in the environment, capable, makes it such that when the world throws you a boulder, you’re more capable of overcoming that than if you didn’t have those things as part of your developing experience. If you were, if you didn’t have a supportive, caregiving environment or supportive peer relationships, if you were consistently told that you weren’t good enough to do things in a school setting, that person has been shaped to be less resilient, according to the ideas, according to their findings, in Maten’s findings and others, are based on populations that have been maltreated and abused, and they’ve been able to look for characteristics of individuals that have shown resilience. So resilience is complicated and like everything else, it’s got some nature, some nurture components to it.

Mali: It’s important to keep in mind that even though by the end of Incidents in the Life of a Slave Girl Harriet was not able to realize her dream of making a home for herself and her children to share, that in her life overall, she created a powerful legacy as an activist. Her insight to the social issues facing African Americans is demonstrated in her observations in comparing them to the conditions of people she encountered while traveling to England later in her life.

Archive #1: The people I saw around me were, many of them, among the poorest poor. But when I visited them in their little thatched cottages, I felt that the condition of even the meanest and most ignorant among them was vastly superior to the condition of the most favored slaves in America. They labored hard; but they were not ordered out to toil while the stars were in the sky, and driven and slashed by an overseer, through heat and cold, till the stars shone out again. Their homes were very humble; but they were protected by law. No insolent patrols could come, in the dead of night, and flog them at their pleasure. The father, when he closed his cottage door, felt safe with his family around him. No master or overseer could come and take from him his wife, or his daughter. They must separate to earn their living; but the parents knew where their children were going, and could communicate with them by letters. The relations of husband and wife, parent and child, were too sacred for the richest noble in the land to violate with impunity. Much was being done to enlighten these poor people. Schools were established among them, and benevolent societies were active in efforts to ameliorate their condition. There was no law forbidding them to learn to read and write; and if they helped each other in spelling out the Bible, they were in no danger of thirty-nine lashes, as was the case with myself and poor, pious, old uncle Fred. I repeat that the most ignorant and the most destitute of these peasants was a thousand fold better off than the most pampered American slave. (Chapter XXXVII)

Anna: Part of the way that the narrative is structured is that she wants to talk about the suffering that she and her family have experienced, but not figure that as destructive to family instant. I think that that’s something that generations of social scientists and scientists have talked about in terms of black family life is that there are there are fewer, shallower less important ties to family and this is part of the ways that people comforted themselves when they sold people’s children, for example that ‘this mother does not feel in the way that a white mother would.’ So what Jacobs does by chronicling her deep attachment to her children, her deep pain from the separation that they undergo, her deep fears about their fate.

Amber: It’s easy to understand the idea of Harriet having fear in regard to her fate and the fate of her children. But it is also important to consider how the fear of individuals and institutions in power has been used as a source of response.

Sterling: And this fear, as we later discuss, drives people to consider how much they should be protecting more vulnerable members of society

Anna: So I think that part of what that does is to say that part of what establishing herself within a lineage of family resilience it’s to say that this is the type of pain that each mother experiences. She’s not saying ‘I alone have felt this’ or that ‘I particularly have felt this.’ I think what she’s trying to do is to really allow us- us loosely -particularly an abolitionist audience also to see the way that trauma is registering in each generation. We know from her description of her grandmother that her grandmother had many children who were sold into slavery and that she was working to buy as many of her children back from slavery as she possibly could. Then we know that even that she was present in this attenuated way to her children that the structures of enslavement and space meant that she could not be present to her children in the ways that she would like to be. Even in freedom she cannot be present her children in the ways that she would like to be. So I think that while she’s always talking about suffering and she’s always talking about trauma she’s always pointing us to the ways in which that is being structurally enforced and it is structurally enforced in the south in slavery and it is structurally enforced differently and to different ends and with better resolution eventually also in the North.

Amber: In “Sick from Freedom: African American Illness and Suffering During the Civil War and Reconstruction” author Jim Downs described the role of abolitionists as health advocates and mentioned Harriet Jacobs to be associated with this in particular.

Sterling: Other reformers and abolitionists of the time learned about the conditions of the formerly enslaved due to the work of people like Harriet. Along with other former slaves, Harriet went on to become a benevolent reformer herself. She created orphanages and dedicated rest of life to teaching and providing health as social worker.

Mali: While reformers like Harriet were able to realize social determinants of health and contribute to efforts to improve the quality of life for black children and their families, it is important to also understand how some used these understandings and subjected them to further social stigmatization to create other questionable insutionsions of reform. Such institutions include those like the epidemiology of violence theory. Epidemiology of violence theory served to justify the policing and overregulation of black youth and people out of a supposed intent to protect them.

Ramos: Yeah, what’s difficult about all of this stuff around childhood studies is that it all comes out of people’s desire to protect members of society that we all want to protect. We want to protect children and provide them an atmosphere where they’re going to live there you know healthy, maximized lives. The unfortunate matter is that even these liberal conceptions is really productive really desirable things that people have asked to protect children end up having a dark edge to them which is why we need to protect them from something. And what we’re trying to pay attention to here is the idea that protecting children from something means what are we protecting them from. And I’m saying that when we say let’s protect the children, we should ask what are we protecting them from? Are we protecting them from people of color? Are we protecting them from crime? If we build up these fences to protect children, what also are we keeping in? You know does that make sense. Like what are we of actually upholding when we build up protections for children. And it just seems as if the contradiction of child protection is is totally unearthed when you look at what happens to black children particularly in all of these instances.

Amber: Overall, unhealed trauma of all kinds have the potential to lead to recurring “mobile” adversities that extend past their origin and can be integrated into larger systems of oppression for vulnerable populations- especially children. Harriet Jacobs’s life and legacy as an author discussing these themes that countered the narrow racialized practices of her time serve as a testament to the significance of understanding and intervening to improve the mental and emotional well being of children. Even as Harriet continued into adulthood, the effects of her childhood followed her in her later obstacles of being a fugitive slave woman and a mother whose children also faced serious adverse childhood experiences. However, by working to ensure that her reflections on the trauma she faced as an enslaved girl were accounted for, Harriet secured a contributing position to African American health activism that should be understood, celebrated, and never forgotten.

Triumphant yet somber music

Archive #1: Reader, my story ends with freedom; not in the usual way, with marriage. I and my children are now free! We are as free from the power of slaveholders as are the white people of the north; and though that, according to my ideas, is not saying a great deal, it is a vast improvement in my condition.

The dream of my life is not yet realized. I do not sit with my children in a home of my own. I still long for a hearthstone of my own, however humble. I wish it for my children’s sake far more than for my own. (Chapter XLI)

Archive #1: It has been painful to me, in many ways, to recall the dreary years I passed in bondage. I would gladly forget them if I could. Yet the retrospection is not altogether without solace; for with those gloomy recollections come tender memories of my good old grandmother, like light, fleecy clouds floating over a dark and troubled sea. (Chapter XLI)

NR: Wow, that was a great podcast!

LG: It was really awesome to get to listen to this semester’s worth of work, which we’ve been seeing them putting in.

NR: We hope that for all the educators out there that you consider using podcasts as a pedagogical tool, that you look to our website to be able to look for things. Before we close out, we just want to thank some of our partners out there.

LG: We’re lucky enough to work alongside and have some resources from, first and foremost, the Center for the Study of Slavery and Justice, particularly Johanna Obenda and Babette Thomas, who are working as fellows there.

NR: They’ve got a great project called Working Out Loud. We also received significant help from the John Nicholas Brown Center for Public Humanities and the MML at Brown. We’d also like to thank the Department of Africana Studies and the Cogut Institute for Humanities.

LG: Overarching this entire thank you is the grant that made this possible from the Swearer Center.

NR: We could not have done it without the Swearer Center. Thanks.

LG: Thanks so much, and thanks for listening.

 

Resources from Behind the Podcast: deconstructing scenes from AFRI0550, African American Health Activism.

Nic John Ramos is an Assistant Professor in the Department of History at Drexel University and held a Mellon Postdoctoral Fellowship of Race in Medicine and Science at Brown University from 2017-2019. His article “Poor Influences and Criminal Locations: Los Angeles’s Skid Row, Multicultural Identities, and Normal Homosexuality” was recently published in American Quarterly.

Laura Garbes is a PhD student in sociology at Brown University, where she studies racism, whiteness, and cultural organizations. Her research explores the racialization of sound in public broadcasting. She is also a fellow at Brown University’s Swearer Center for Public Service, and a member of the Du Boisian Scholar Network.

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SO! Amplifies: The Electric Golem (Trevor Pinch and James Spitznagel)

SO! Amplifies. . .a highly-curated, rolling mini-post series by which we editors hip you to cultural makers and organizations doing work we really really dig.  You’re welcome!

On March 24th, 2019 the record release party for The Electric Golem’s 6th CD Golemology was held at the Loft in Ithaca, New York. The Electric Golem is an avant-garde synthesizer duo featuring Trevor Pinch and James Spitznagel, that has been in existence for about ten years.

Trevor Pinch is a local sound artist and professor at Cornell University. He is an STS (Science and Technology Studies) and Sound Studies scholar. As a key thinker of STS, Trevor is the coproducer of theories about Sociology of Scientific Knowledge, Social Construction of Technology (SCOT), and the role of users in technological history and innovation. However, Trevor’s interest in dates back much farther; he built his first modular synthesizer when he was a physics student in London in the 1970s.

The other half of The Electric Golem, James Spitznagel, is a multi-media artist who uses the iPad as a musical instrument and to create digital paintings. While he has played many roles in the music and culture industries—guitarist in a rock band, record store owner, art gallery and guitar shop investor, and even business manager for the Andy Warhol Museum—he moved to Ithaca to focus on producing abstract art: digital paintings and experimental, improvisational music. Being an energetic and enthusiastic person who has unrestrained fantasies, James finds that everything around him can be his inspiration.

Pinch and Spitznagel formed the group after Spitznagel read Analog Days: The Invention and Impact of the Moog Synthesizer (by Trevor Pinch and Frank Trocco) and realized Pinch also lived in Ithaca. Spitznagel simply looked his name up in the phone book and called him up: “I go, ‘is this Trevor Pinch?’ He said, ‘yes.’ I said, ‘well, you don’t know me, but I just read your book and I love it.’”  And then they got together for a beer and have been best friends and collaborators ever since.  Once Spitznagel heard about Pinch’s homemade synthesizer, he asked Trevor to try to make something together and it turned out to be a fascinating mixture of analog–Trevor’s synth, Moog Prodigy, and a Minimoog–and James’s digital instruments.

Building from this first moment of discovery, The Electric Golem’s music is electronic, experimental, and totally improvised. Typically, the pieces of music last twenty minutes to half an hour and expresses their interaction with the machines and with each other in the studio. James is much more controlling of the tone and rhythm, and patches the sound as he goes along, whereas Trevor is much more about making spontaneous weird sounds. They complement each other and the creation process is usually by random and spontaneous, as Spitznagel describes: “I didn’t tell Trevor what to do or what to play, but I said, here’s the piece of music I’ve written. He just instinctively knew what add to it.” Reciprocally, “he might just play something that I go, oh, I can weave in and out of the ambient sound he’s putting there.”

Trevor Pinch, Electric Golem at Elmira College, 2012

For the duo, the process of producing music becomes a shared experience with their listeners. The music is ever changing and evolving. In addition, unexpected drama adds vitality to the palette. “The iPad might freeze up or synthesizer might break somehow,” Spitznagel notes, “that’s happened to us, but we carry on. Like Trevor looks at me and says, it’s not working there. Or, I look at him and go, I have to reboot my computer, it’s not working. But, those times actually inspire us to try new things and go beyond what we are doing.” James explained. Their inspiration comes from the unknown, which just emerges from their practice. “Generally, this sort of music is completely unique to Electric Golem.” Trevor concluded.

The name “Electric Golem” comes from a series of books with Golem in the titles that Trevor collaborated on with his mentor Harry Collins. “The golem is a creature of Jewish mythology,” Pinch and Collins wrote in The Golem, What You Should Know about Science, “it is a humanoid made by man with clay and water, with incantations and spells. It is powerful, it grows a little more powerful every day.  It will follow orders, do your work, and protect you from the ever threatening enemy.  But it is clumsy and dangerous.  Without control, a golem may destroy its masters with its flailing vigour” (1).  Noting Trevor’s association with the concept of the Golem, Spitznagel added the “Electric” twist not just as a metaphor for their sound but also because “it’s kind of like a retro name.” The Electric Golem mushroomed from there, and in the past decade they have had many invitations and bookings to play out, receiving the first recording contract from the Ricochet Dream label, and have played with a bunch of notable musicians, such as Malcolm Cecil of Tonto’s Expanding Head Band, Simeon of Silver Apples, and “Future Man” (aka Roy Wooten), and they haven’t stopped there.

According to Pinch, the key feature of The Electric Golem’s music is its ability to encompass different moods. “I think Electric Golem has become good at one thing: its changing and transitioning from one sort of mood of music to another. And we have become quite good at those transitions. I think people would say that’s what they kind of like about us.” These sorts of slow transitions construct a unique texture of sound that can be quite cinematic, so much so that in 2012, the Electric Golem performed the accompaniment to the silent movie A Trip to the Moon, a special Cornell cinema event. Overall, as improvised experimental music, it is sometimes challenging to listen to, with no regular rhythm or reliable melody. Trevor produces warm, rich drones from the analog side that contrast with the sharper digital rhythms that James programs. In short, the Electric Golem varies between these two affects but the music goes far beyond the representation of emotional states; sometimes it conjures up the feeling of the vastness of space and time.

Experimental music, is a collaboration and negotiation process between instruments and their users.  No matter if analog or digital, instruments have autonomy; they are non-human actors with their own agency to some extent. As Trevor Pinch intimates, “I understand the general sort of sound that can be produced, but the particular details of how it will work out, you don’t really know, that’s much more spontaneous, you have to react to that.”  Instruments can often be uncontrollable–making their own sounds—so that Electric Golem must respond in kind. “So, it’s sort of like higher level meta-control versus actually doing what you’re doing in response to the instrument that combines together,” Trevor describes, “which I think is the secret to controlling these sorts of instruments.” It is incredible that Pinch and Spitznagel know each other so well—and each know their instruments so well–that they can improvise for long periods with no trouble. Trevor says: “Follow the use of these instruments! Follow the instruments! They are not essentialized. They are just stabilized temporarily.”

On the whole, The Electric Golem shows an artistic form which breaks the traditional paradigm, deconstructs and then reconstructs it, seeking to free sound from the instruments. Their music is beyond pure melody and rhythm, beyond the expression of existence, expressing more of an aesthetic state of transcendence. They challenge what music is, and what musical instruments are; they challenge divisions between the identities of engineer and musician. Electric Golem’s music co-constructs art and technology and binds them together; art, for them, is a mode of presenting technology, and vice versa, technology is a pathway through which art can flourish.

My favorite Electric Golem piece is called “Heart of the Golem.” What is the heart of the Golem? According to Pinch, “It is a mystery, a process of unfolding and discovery. It is somewhere where analog and digital sound meet, and an improvisation.” What the magic is remains unknown and unlimited, just like the future of the Electric Golem.

Featured Image: Courtesy of The Electric Golem

Qiushi Xu is a PhD candidate in the subject of Philosophy of Science and Technology in Tsinghua University, Beijing and in a joint PhD program in the Department of Science and Technology Studies in Cornell University, working with Prof. Trevor Pinch. Her research areas are Sound Studies, STS, Cultural Studies and Gender Studies. Her current research focuses on the sociology of piano sound and the negotiation and construction of piano sound in the recording studio (PhD dissertation), gender issues in recording industry, experimental music, auscultation and sound therapy. She holds an MA in Cultural and Creative Industries from King’s College London; a BA in Recording Arts and a BA in Journalism and Communication from the University of China, Beijing. She is also an amateur pianist, writer, and traditional Chinese painter. As a multiculturalist, she is am fascinated by different forms of art and culture in different cultural contexts.

On the Poetics of Balloon Music: Sound Artist Judy Dunaway (Part Two)

Last week, Carlo Patrão published “On the Poetics of Balloon Music: Sounding Air, Body, and Latex (Part One),” which examined the history of the association between balloon travel and experimentation and the idea of silence, along with a round up of conceptual artists who have used balloons in their work.  Today’s post continues this exploration with an in-depth conversation between the author, producer Marina Koslock and sound artist Judy Dunaway.


We look at alien grace,

unfettered

by any determined form,

and we say: balloon, flower,

heart, condom, opera,

lampshade, parasol, ballet.

Hear how the mouth,

so full

of longing for the world,

changes its shape?

Excerpt from Difference, by Mark Doty

PLAY //

Against Levity: Experimental Music and the Latex Balloon

The term balloon music gained some virality in 2011 after Finn, the protagonist of the animated series Adventure Time, rubbed a toy balloon and improvised a rap over its squeaky sounds. “Balloon music is the future,” says the character. This few second-long scene became an instant meme, inspiring many to share their own versions of the “futuristic sound of balloon music.”

Balloons themselves are viral objects. Designed to infect our moods, they are part of social rituals ranging from the deeply personal to collective (political) euphoria. They are cheap, amusing and awe-inducing. As resonant chambers, balloon membranes are sonically responsive to touch while, at the same time, highly tuned to the vibrations of the environment. To start playing a balloon, no prior experience is required. In this sense, the balloon is a democratic instrument whose sonic textures circumvent expensive music equipment.

The Jazz composer Anthony Braxton was once asked why he used balloons in his Composition 25 (1972). Braxton replied: “I didn’t have enough money for the electronic equipment that could make those kinds of sounds. I’m interested in the expanded reality of sound opened up by the post-Webern continuum, but I’m restricted to using cheap materials. So, you know, I was walking down the street one night and I thought, Hey! I gotta have balloons!”

Anthony Braxton, B-Xo/N-0-1-47a or Composition 6G, w/ Leroy Jenkins, Leo Smith and Steve McCall, with balloon sounds, 1969

“For me, that piece (Composition 25) really best demonstrates the full symbolic meaning of the balloon in the early avant-garde,” says balloon music composer Judy Dunaway. “I’ve discussed this with Braxton himself – the balloon replicated electronic equipment that he couldn’t afford at the time, but he also saw it as a way to open up the minds of the performers to get them to think differently about how they were improvising and how they were interacting in the piece.” Braxton’s Composition 25 is scored for 250 balloons and musicians are required to produce sound by squeezing, rubbing and popping balloons. “I like the idea that he breaks down the hierarchy,” adds Dunaway, “black musicians were discriminated against and they didn’t have the financial means that the white musicians had… and he was using this as a way to get beyond that and say: Here, I’m going to do electronic sounds without any electronics, I don’t need to go buy a Buchla or be associated with an academic institution that can give me access to equipment, right?”

Judy Dunaway, Mother of Balloon Music, Innova Recordings, 2006

Producer Marina Koslock and I met Judy Dunaway at MassArt in Boston to talk about her balloon-based sculptural sonic performances and the ready-made latex balloon as a sound producing instrument. For the past 25 years, Dunaway has been developing a singular specialization in the balloon as a medium for sound and music. You can keep just broadening out and do more things with a concept; or you can work in a particular parameter as an artist and keep digging deeper and deeper and deeper, and that for me as been more interesting, is to pursue that line”, explains Dunaway.

As a consequence, her balloon work has spanned out through several records (e.g. Balloon Music and Mother of Balloon Music), scores, sound sculptures, solo performances, ensembles, and numerous installations. The poetics of the latex balloon as a sound producing instrument contrast with the atmospheric balloon explored in part one of this article. The balloon, no longer buoyant, stays in close proximity to the body of the performer. The surface of the balloon is vibrated through rubbing, stroking, squeezing, pulling, popping and through the control of air releases. These sonic tactile acts bring forth dialogues between the performer’s body and the latex body of the balloon. “I limited my playing techniques to the balloons and my body,” says Judy Dunaway, “it was essential to be able to feel everything that was happening with the balloon in order to be able to fully explore all the sonic possibilities.”

The Balloon Music, DF#, by Tina Touli, 2013-2015

The balloon functions as an external sensory organ, like a skin, that vibrates when sound passes through. In Deaf culture, balloons have a long history of being used as resonating chambers that amplify vibration and facilitate hearing. Deaf people use them at concerts, musicals, clubs and raves to hear the music through the vibration of the balloon’s membrane. David Toop writes about Alexander Bell in the 1870s encouraging students from a Boston school for deaf children to hold balloons in their hands while walking on the street as a safety measure in order to hear the vibrations from the cobblestones as fast horse-drawn wagons passed by. Vibrational information is processed in the same way as sound information. As the scholar Steph Ceraso proposes, the common definition of listening needs to be expanded to include the sensory, contextual, and material aspects of a sonic event. Dunaway’s sound installation Manual Eardrums invites participants to a different mode of listening through the vibration of the balloon. “You are given earplugs at the door and an inflated balloon, and you hold it between your hands as you walk around the space. There’s a low tone playing that sweeps between 100Hz and 150Hz and it causes different vibrational patterns in the room that you can feel and map them out,” explains Dunaway. “Your eardrum is the balloon that you’re holding.”

Judy Dunaway performing Amplified Twister Balloon, Photo by Mizuki Nakeshu

Judy Dunaway started to play balloon music in the late 1980s, first as a preparation for guitar string and soon after as a solo instrument. It was in the midst of the AIDS Crisis and Dunaway was part of the downtown improv scene in NYC. “Many of my friends were dying,” she recalls. “Everybody was saying what caused this? Nobody knew how the disease was being spread,” adds Dunaway. “Then, of course, there was this discovery that it was sexually transmitted and you could prevent transmission with latex condoms. Suddenly, they had this power,” she says, “latex had this power to save people’s lives, and I say that that is when balloons really began to speak to me. They were something beyond a mere mechanism to make sound.” Within the envelope of the balloon Dunaway found space for memory, life, and sensuality.

From the beginning, her balloon work has articulated tensions between explicit and implicit meaning around issues relating to social activism, environmentalism, and feminism. “In an era, which continues to be that a woman’s control of her own body is restricted or attempts are being made to restrict our bodies, I coupled myself to this instrument that expresses sensuality, sexuality, and humanity,says Dunaway. The balloon, as a resonating chamber, bypasses western musical traditions that mechanize the body and gender stereotype musical expression. For Dunaway, the balloon generates a “non-judgmental somatic relationship.”

Seeing my connection to the body of the balloon, that to me served as an unspoken rebellion against the patriarchy, against the power structures that have oppressed women and, ultimately, all humankind by severing the psyche and the body,” says Dunaway. Following the scholar Robin James, the patriarchy is not just a “relation among people but is also a “relation among sounds that are coded in a gender system of masculine absolute/feminine other. “The way I approach the balloon is not nailed or fixed or part of this history,” clarifies Dunaway. The balloon as an instrument has allowed Dunaway to develop a musical lexicon outside of a male-dominated classical heritage.     

Judy Dunaway performing Piece for Tenor Balloon, written notation with improvisational passages, 2002

For example, this is her description of the round balloon as a sounding instrument:

Imagine a string, a string on a violin or guitar, and this string is held taut on either end by a the tuning pegs and the bridge now imagine that string suddenly melted and spun out into an orb and it’s all held tight by a column of air. . .this is the palette that I have to access when I play the Tenor Balloon, I have all these harmonics on this curved shape, and I control it partially with my knees.

The Tenor Balloon is placed between both knees and Dunaway applies and releases pressure on the balloon producing microtonal changes on its surface. “And I also use water,” she adds, “copious amounts of water, warm water on the balloon and on my hands because that’s the way I get this stick and slip mechanism to work.” The hands gliding on the balloon’s surface act similar to a bow on a string reaching different nodes and moving through harmonic series.

Judy Dunaway performing “Hommage à Kenneth Noland”, for amplified giant balloon, vibrators, synthesized tones, and projected video, with Max/MSP/Jitter interface, 2017

Each balloon requires its own specific touch or sounding technique. On the piece Amplified Giant Balloon, vibrators are used to resonate the surface of a giant balloon creating a low drone sound.It’s like vibrating a giant bass string”, says Dunaway, ”I tune my vibrators, I go to the sex shop and I listen to vibrators, and I tune the vibrators to each other so there’s a little beating pattern between them that I can control.”

Around 2015, Dunaway added a new balloon to her solo performances, the Amplified Twister Balloon. The twister balloon is equivalent to the long balloons used to make balloon-animals. Due to its string-like shape, the sounds produced through rubbing or gliding differ from the sounds of a round balloon. “The harmonic series isn’t so predictable,” she continues, “the tension is highest close to the navel of the balloon and that makes it microtonal different from one end to the other like an out-of-tune bugle.” Visually, the Amplified Twister Balloon performance delivers a feminist affirming statement. Defying the tradition of the male guitarist stroking the female form of the guitar, Dunaway finds musical material in a phallic-shaped balloon. “I sort of invert this”, she says, “now I have the penis form that I’m stroking and caressing and I’m taking this phallic power for myself in the Amplified Twister Balloon.”

“My work doesn’t come out of a void,” states Dunaway. In the article My Beautiful Balloon, Dunaway maps out a detailed history of the balloon in experimental and avant-garde music. Many Fluxus artists used the balloon in events, concerts and instructional scores. The sounds of the balloon embodied Fluxus’ humorous/satirical attitude towards art and the collapse of hierarchies of experience by reframing everyday life objects. Balloons are used by DIY artists that re-invent, hack and create new music instruments (Jean Francois Laporte, Thierry Madiot, Aaron Wendell, Tom Nunn, Javier Bustos). Balloon sounds are explored by many artists with backgrounds ranging from improvised music, rock, electronic or electro-acoustic and sound installation (Ricardo Arias, David Bedford, Mauricio Kagel, Alvin Lucier, Terry Day, Tod Dockstader, Christine Sun Kim, Davide Tidoni, Sharon Gal, Eugene Chadbourne, Matmos, EVOL, Alan Nakagawa, to name a few).

Balloon Music Compilation

To develop a practice around the accessibility of latex is to engage with politics of mass-production and exploitation of resources and labor. Dunaway mentions the connection between the air and breath that fills the balloon and the mass-extraction of latex from the lungs of the Earth. “[Balloons] are literally the blood from a tree in the Amazon,” says Dunaway, “and there’s a whole history of how the indigenous people there were and still are persecuted. Now, they are mostly farmed in Malaysia,” she adds.

Latex being collected from a tapped rubber tree, Wikimedia Commons

Between 1890 and 1920, a rubber fever led to a boom of extraction and exploitation of rubber-bearing plants in the Amazonian countries and to the forced displacement, slavery and mass killing of its indigenous people. The same happened in many African countries. As John Tully writes in his book The Devil’s Milk, “it is still true that where there is rubber there is often human suffering.” Ricardo Arias, a Columbian composer working with balloons (balloon kit) since 1987, has acknowledged this suffering through his balloon work. In  Musica Global, Arias composed a series of 20 short balloon pieces called Caouchu: The Weeping Tree/El Árbol Que Llora in memory of the native Americans tortured and killed by the North American and European hunger for natural rubber latex.

These ontological relations between the balloon’s materiality and the environment inform Dunaway’s work. “I’m writing a piece for a large 30 to 35 person balloon ensemble. This piece is called Wind Ensemble and is all about the air going out of the balloon, and the sound of the mouthpiece being vibrated as the air comes out.” Dunaway shares a video recording of this work and the room is filled with high pitched sounds changing at different speeds. The experience is immersive; a meditation on air and vibration. “It’s rather minimal in the concept because I really want you to notice the small changes and nuances over time.” The performative element of the piece has balloon players squeezing the balloon’s mouthpiece and bending over large balloons to make them vibrate until the balloon’s last breath. “Ideally, I would like 60 balloon players, that would be great!” she exclaims. The embodied relationship that Dunaway has developed with the balloon over the past decades resulted in an artistic practice extremely tuned to the sonic proprieties of every inch of the latex balloon.

Still from Le Ballon Rouge by Albert Lamorisse, 1956

The poetics of balloon music bring forth alternative narratives that challenge dominant hierarchies of music production, bypassing expensive technology and expectations of gendered musical expression. The balloon as an object of childhood and of playfulness is charged with emotional resonance and invites the construction of meaning while offering an opportunity to build upon subversive themes. In this two-part article, the balloon was analyzed as an object that is able to generate a vertical dimension of self and the construction of a sense of Place within the silence of the upper air regions that informed the “listening ear” to perceive difference. As a Probe, the balloon navigates the irreversibly altered constitution of the airspace, sonifying masses of air and weather data. Filled with breath or air, in Play, the latex balloon is an extra ear attached to our bodies that vibrate in sympathy with the terrestrial agitations of the Earth. Maybe Finn from Adventure Time is on to something. “Balloon music is the future.”

Thanks to Judy Dunaway for the interview and records; Marina Koslock for co-producing the interview with Judy Dunaway; and Jennifer Stoever for your help and excellent editing.

Featured Image: Judy Dunaway, photo by Alice Bellati

Carlo Patrão is a Portuguese radio producer and independent researcher based in New York city. 

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Sounding Our Utopia: An Interview With Mileece–Maile Colbert

 

Contra La Pared: Reggaetón and Dissonance in Naarm, Melbourne

In “Asesina,” Darell opens the track shouting “Everybody go to the discotek,” a call for listeners to respond to the catchy beat and come dance. In this series on rap in Spanish and Sound Studies, we’re calling you out to the dance floor…and we have plenty to say about it. Your playlist will not sound the same after we’re through.

Throughout January, we will explore what Spanish rap has to say on the dance floor, in our cars, and through our headsets. We’ll read about trap in Cuba and about femme sexuality in Cardi B’s music. And because no forum on Spanish rap is complete without a mixtape, we’ll close out our forum with a free playlist for our readers. Today we continue No Pare, Sigue Sigue: Spanish Rap & Sound Studies with Lucreccia Quintanilla’s essay on reggaetón and Latinx identity in Australia.

Liana M. Silva, forum editor

The first time I heard Cypress Hill was at my fellow Salvadoran friend’s house in the outer suburbs of Brisbane, Australia. She was wearing big baggy clothes and announced that we needed to go in her room the very minute I arrived. So, we left our parents to talk in the lounge room and we sat on her bed and listened. Latin rap had arrived in my life! In the world of pop and the Latin American classics we kept hearing at quinceañeras, here was something new and energetic for us. It was our language, our people: in this way it provided a much needed connection to the outside world for us who existed in what was then quite a small and freshly arrived Latinx community. The place we found ourselves in was particularly racist, and for a moment we felt acknowledged and could just be proud of being who we were. The trumpets and snippets of familiar sounds mixed in with hip hop activated the familiar. But these Latinxs did not even try to be “good” migrants like we did. This was so refreshing to me.

It has been a long time since I was a fifteen-year-old, freshly arrived in Australia, in a classic story that involved fleeing from the Salvadoran Civil War and a period of migration to New York before finally landing in Australia. Pretty soon after arriving, I realised that Australia was not the place that I had seen in the documentary back in El Salvador about Indigenous people here. The one where thousands of years of culture were acknowledged and respected. Slowly, I came to the understanding that I too was a settler on this land at the expense of its indigenous people. Colonisation remains a continual process, and the effects of The White Australia Policy, which excluded non-European migrants until the late 1970s, is still clearly evident in the current political climate, epitomised by the treatment of asylum seekers coming from mainly Afghanistan, Iran, and Sri Lanka to these shores.

Because of Australia’s geographical and cultural disconnect it seemed rather difficult to find a space that was not an oversimplified or commodified version based on stereotypes of “Latinness” because of the relatively small communities where they played the old classics and followed traditions nostalgically closer than our relatives back home. As for me, back in El Salvador, I listened to the live music–which were mostly salsa and cumbias–playing in the party hall behind my house while I slept, which had an obvious and subliminal impact on me. I spent years humming Ivy Queen’s “Muchos Quieren Tumbarme” to myself until the day a decade later I sat down determined to find the original on Youtube. With all the might one has to muster to not be swept up by the broom of assimilation, I was exhausted and I had not found the time to listen to the music that was present in parts of my mind—and those parts were beginning to lose patience.

 

Until recently, World Music held Latin music as part of its domain at Multicultural events and festivals in mainstream Australia. Listen, there is nothing Latinxs love more than having our culture appreciated. We love it when non Latinxs also rush to the dance floor, liquid spilling out of their drink glasses, unable to keep up with the rush of the body that happens when Daddy Yankee’s “Gasolina” comes on. However, my focus here is to bring those who are ancestrally implicated in the music to the front. Music is where the multiplicity of Latinx cultural narratives converge, past, present and future all at once. This is what propelled me to finally take up DJing in my mid-twenties: I wanted to explore this way of telling stories at a time when I remembered how my body wanted to dance and I didn’t hear the right music for it around me. I spoke to some people who are engaging with and making space for themselves and others around reggaetón and Dembow. What follows are snippets of our online conversations.

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“EDM / dance / festival” by Flickr user Patrick Savalle, CC BY-SA 2.0


In a place, haunted so actively by the cruelty of colonialism and so suspicious of difference it makes sense that music like reggaetón with its relentless beat becomes a disruption to a muffling veneer of politeness and civility. It is our punk! Peruvian– Australian writer, DJ and event producer Triana Hernandez aka Airhorn Mami sees a politics of disruption in the music she plays. In response to some questions I posed she writes:

Music has historically always been a healing and therapeutic experience, and this continues to be the case today. I think about how White Australia has a huge disease called National Amnesia, a mental illness mostly enforced by silencing and lacks of moments of self-expression I think perreo/dembow/etc. have a really Caribbean or sun-filled, upbeat mood and bass-heavy nature so it is somehow like feeding Vitamin D into people. It’s just really liberating and playful sounds.

For me, finding my own voice within the music of La Hill, Ivy Queen, and lately Tomasa del Real and Amara La Negra, amongst others has been a really exciting feminist moment. It is a feminism very far away from the offensive lyrics that have given the genre a bad name, but also from the prevailing privilege that infuses Western feminism here. Within a mainstream charged with expectations of emotional and sexual repression, music like reggaetón presents another possible way of existing as a woman: as one who tells it like it is, is proud of her sexuality and aware of her body, her community and her culture.

Argentinian/Australian community worker and DJ Rebeca Sacchero founder of Nuestro Planeta, a queer, feminist collective, describes her experience of navigating the contradictions that exist within reggaetón:

Eliza and I really wanted to make a femme-energy heavy party where people who are female, non-binary, trans, or queer would be able to feel welcome to enjoy music that isn’t always welcoming in its lyrical content or in the spaces it dominates. Being Latinx for me is fraught with contradictions, for example my staunch feminism and then deeply held cultural values which view gender and sexuality in ways which depart from western conditioning. I see these tensions and contradictions as beautiful yet difficult and I see the same things play out in the music I enjoy.

…That said, a lot of the music we love comes from unsafe spaces and is born from resilience and tension, so we appreciate and honour the magic that comes from having a diverse crowd and try to have patience and love for everyone and understand that knowledge about how to behave in a club space is a privilege. My work as a youth worker has also had a huge impact on Nuestro Planeta. I work in Fitzroy, running graffiti and djing programs mostly with young people from the housing estates in the city of Yarra and young people in and out of home care. Skating, graffiti, rap music, clubbing and art are all ways young people resist oppressive structures and I think that they are all beautiful and important, so my events need to be a space that offer an alternative to an oppressive structu not mimic one

On a more experimental front Galambo, the solo live project by Chilean-Australian Bryan Phillips who works with beats such as Dembow and Cumbia as well as experimental sound production, poetically describes the conversation that takes place as he performs:

Doing the Galambo is a process where composing and performing occur at the same time—specific to site, time and people. My joy is trying to join with people in an embodied experience—a sonic ritual—through electronic dance music. Electronica de raíz, embracing electronic music from its material roots.

Sound like river. Son las vertientes—the streams of altered states of consciousness, that meander and bifurcate and join waters. The main body being the sonido rajado—the torn sound of the Bailes Chinos of the southern Andes—el sonido originario. The loud and dissonant flutes or pifulcas that resonate through the valleys, from the highest altar¬—Andacollo. The Andean dissonance that resists and brings difference to the coloniser culture of taming the sound through equal tempered pitches and harmony itself. That performing involves everyone present, en el presente.

These are narratives articulated via sounds and fragments that activate memory while becoming new. Importantly, these sounds give voice to an ongoing mythology, to a landscape that has seen and interacted with generations of the artists’ ancestors to be transmitted via echoes across the ocean thousands of miles away and as Galambo puts it in the “present.”

There has been a surge of reggaetón and Latin trap on the mainstream charts all around the world; not only are these beats “spicy” and contagious but they are also a type of living cultural archive. Latinx people find ourselves there in the indigenous tempo, Africa via the Caribbean, the undeniable middle eastern presence via rhythms, and in there is also colonisation in the Spanish lyrics and the U.S. twangs amongst other things. We don’t need to read books for this. We know and feel these stories. There are more experimental artists working in the genre all over the world that want to highlight different aspects of this history, namely the indigenous and Afro-Latinx artists Kelman Duran and Resla, and Tayhana, and producers and DJs like Riobamba. Thank you, Soundcloud!

It has been hard over the years to imagine creatively generative discussions around reggaetón in Australia as community building that also acknowledges both its negative and productive aspects and that engage with ideas around gender and experimentation. Reggaetón is even entering the club scene being sprinkled over the techno sets of Melbourne. As an artist, it has been completely worth the wait because in an art world still largely focussed on an inclusion/exclusion binary, experiencing people creating space around culture via music is pretty exciting. By doing so, artists on the margins of a Western mainstream are not waiting to be let in but creating our own space on our own terms, outside of presenting generic stereotypes. Instead this is a dynamic alive and growing space. Bryan Phillips expands on his creative process and his role as creating music in Australia:

I converse in a process of embodiment of sound, en el presente, that allows for the voice to emerge, that sings in huaynos, punk rock and cantos a lo humano, somehow always in español. I speak with el Pueblo, through Violeta Parra and the lineages of poetas populares. La Nueva Poesía Chilena-La Nueva Canción. Cecilia Vicuña, shamana poeta, the songs that teach us so much. That teach us to care. That performing is a subversive political act in itself. That performing involves everyone present, en el presente. That it sings in a voice that is indígena and feminista.

Phillips is right, it is political and life-giving to play and dance to this music. Perhaps the misogynist ‘catch cry: ‘contra la pared’ – against the wall- can mean something new to the Latinx community in this far away diaspora. It can connote something of solidarity and identification with our siblings and cousins in Latin American and the U.S.A. who are enduring tougher times.

Editor’s note: tune in next week, when we will release a mixtape by Lucreccia Quintanilla to accompany this post.

Featured image: “DJ” by Flickr user Ray_LAC, CC BY 2.0

Lucreccia Quintanilla  is an artist/DJ/writer and PhD candidate at Monash University in Naarm, Melbourne, Australia.

Unapologetic Paisa Chingona-ness: Listening to Fans’ Sonic Identities–Yessica Garcia Hernandez

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