Jasmine Togo-Brisby, “Bitter Sweet,” is a sculpture made from unrefined sugar and resin. The sicky saccharine smell is overpowering in this deeply affecting commentary on intergenerational trauma and slavery suffered by Indigenous people of Australia. Slavery was central to industry and trade. The artist is a fourth generation Australian South Sea Islander, based in Wellington. Her grandparents were taken from Vanuatu as children. This work conveys the horror of an unmarked mass grave unearthed in a former Queensland plantation.

Photo: The Other Sociologist.

Gender, Race, Power and The Beguiled

How do White women perpetuate gender and racial inequality in film? A new adaption of the 1966 novel and 1971 film, “The Beguiled,” is hitting the silver screen. The original story opens with a limping, dirtied White man, John (also nicknamed “Mr B”), played with relish by Clint Eastwood. The audience knows the violence and lies he’s capable of, as we see flashbacks that contradict his charm. He is an Unionist soldier injured in battle towards the end of the American Civil War. He staggers his way to a secluded boarding school for girls and young women, where he is nursed back to health by the older women, a mixed group of begrudging and bemused ladies who are stifled by their secret desires. The 2017 version has already built up high praise, with director Sofia Coppola being awarded Best Director at the Cannes Film Festival. This is the first time the prestigious award has been given to a woman. Coppola explains why she chose to erase the character of Hallie, a slave woman who features prominently in the original. I emphasise Whiteness in her language below. Whiteness is a concept describing how White people don’t acknowledge how their race is central to their worldviews and contributes to racial oppression:

“I really thought it was interesting because it was a group of women all living together, all different ages with different stages of maturity, and how they interact. It’s a group of women kind of isolated in the world… I’m definitely attracted to stories about female characters, and characters that I can relate to. I’m interested in stories of groups of women together…  At the heart of the story, it’s really about the power dynamics between men and women that are universal, but that are sort of heightened in this kind of premise.”

Copolla makes two points in this interview:

  1. She loves women’s stories (read: White women’s stories).
  2. By saying she chooses stories that she relates to, and having omitted the only Black woman from her script, she is saying she only relates to White women.

This may seem “natural” to White people: why would a White woman relate to a Black woman character? This logic is how Whiteness works: by taking for granted the power dynamics of race. Continue reading Gender, Race, Power and The Beguiled

This portrait titled “Ayuba Suleiman Diallo (Job Ben Solomon),” is the first portrait of a person of colour in the early collection of the National Portrait Gallery in London.

An educated man hailing from West African Muslim clerics, Diallo was captured from his country, enslaved and sent to the colony that became the USA. He managed to escape and ended up in Britain, where he became a leader fighting against slavery laws.

The description of this artwork makes a point of the soft way his face is rendered as a sign of his positive acceptance. Another way to read this is that in a time of overt dehumanisation of people of colour, this enigmatic man was an anomaly: a Black man seen as worthy of social esteem (likely due to his education).

Standing in front of this beautiful picture, I thought a lot about bell hooks’ critique of recent cinematic depictions of slavery. She argues they are romantised (and narrow) notions of Black male heroism, specifically packaged for White audiences. This portrait is cited as the first known depiction of a freed slave in Britain and the first named "African subject.“ What a story must lie behind this portrait; one to unpack through postcolonial theory. 

Source: The Other Sociologist.

when it got to the part where Gale was being whipped, I could sense the tension in the [interracial] audience. And I thought to myself: “How many people in here went to see 12 Years a Slave?” It’s interesting to me that in the white imagination, the dystopian future involves white people living through the realities that people of color have lived or are living through right now!

Black Girls Hunger for Heroes, Too: A Black Feminist Conversation on Fantasy Fiction for Teens | Bitch Media

WOW. A really excellent point… Check out this dialogue on diversity in YA/Fantasy lit.

(via constarrynight)

It’s a point that’s been made before, the notion of dystopian novels being scary for white people because it’s never happened to them (in terms of genocide, chattel slavery, etc). So yeah, it’s news to them, but history to poc. I would laugh, but the day has been long and bitter. 

(via jazzypom)

I think it’s important to note that Gale is only white in the movies. Katniss, Gale, anyone from the seam are people of color

(via idrissaelba)

#Also that this behavior is explicitly being carried out in District 12 the way it was already carried out in District 11 #(which is the agricultural district and the population is primarily black) #in the books when rue originally tells katniss that her people are whipped regularly for imagined infractions #katniss is shocked and outraged #and then #it happens to gale right in front of her

(via disheveledcurls)

“We appear to be capable of eating (and liking) just about anything that is not immediately toxic. What constitutes ‘good food,’ like what constitutes good weather, a good spouse, or a fulfilling life, is a social, not a biological matter.” – Sidney Mintz, writing in “Sweetness and Power.” The renowned cultural anthropologist died recently at age 93. He analysed how the British consumption of sugar is linked to the history of slavery, capitalism and imperialism.


The Buxton Memorial stands in the centre of Victoria Tower Gardens in London commemorating the emancipation of slaves following the Slavery Abolition Act in 1833. Erected in 1834 and donated by Charles Buxton MP in memory of his father who was one of the people who fought against slavery in the British colonies.
Source: Instagram @OtherSociology.

This new webseries Ask A Slave provides a highly amusing critique of racist ignorance. It draws on the experiences of actress Azie Mira Dungey (who plays the main character Lizzie Mae). Dungey worked as a living history character at an American historical re-enactment site. The comedy centres on the ridiculous questions posed by members of the public whilst Dungey portrayed an 18th Century slave.

Historian Emmanuel Dabney also worked as a living history character, similarly playing a slave. Like Dungey, Dabney also received many preposterous questions about the lives of slaves. On his blog, he gives a careful critique of Ask A Slave, arguing that his tact was to educate, rather than to succumb to flippant or sarcastic remarks. 

He provides a useful list of intelligent questions that “always need an answer.” This includes: “Why did the former slaves on this plantation/in this urban dwelling stay here after the Civil War? Can you tell me about your family? When the slaves here got angry, how did they show their unhappiness?”

The entire webseries is worth a watch (three episodes so far), but a really great sociological discussion is better served by carefully going through Dabney’s post.

Public education is always hard. When it is clever, satire has subversive power to make people think. Social science has greater capacity to disrupt taken for granted assumptions as well as to dispel ignorance. Our challenge is to be both educational, critical and entertaining if we are going to reach mass audiences. Dabney’s post provides a terrific starting point.

Credits: Link to Dabney’s post via Nick Sacco.

Sociology of Reproductive Health

Barron Lerner reports how, over time, scientists have protested the fact that three statutes were built to commemorate Sims (in South Carolina, Alabama and New York City), but none have been built to acknowledge the sacrifice of his three main “test subjects” Lucy, Anarcha and Betsy.

“The story of J. Marion Sims is a reminder of how history gets rewritten over time. The hope, of course, is that each new account gets closer to the truth”.

Similarly, the history of the clinical trials for the oral contraceptive pill were tested on poor women in a small town in Puerto Rico in the 1950s. The women were deceived about their participation in the trial. They not told about the possible side effects of the untested drug. They did not give their informed consent. Many women died and had ongoing health complications as a result of the trials.

Today, many women in advanced nations benefit from the experiments conducted on poor, enslaved and disempowered Black and Brown women, but few people know about the women whose health was compromised as a result. Additionally, for all the past sacrifices, poor women are less likely to benefit from scientific trials. While Sims’ experiments have been attributed to the eradication of vesicovaginal fistulas in advanced countries, this is still a major problem for 3.5 million women in developing nations, particularly in countries around Africa. The argument that unethical practices of the past might be excused for their present-day benefits is wilfully ignorant of the reality of who didn’t benefit back then and who hasn’t benefited today: poor, Black women, and other women of colour.