In early 2016, T.O. Philly hosted a workshop series on race and undoing racism. Each week we posted material here for folks both in and outside of the workshop to use. Each page archived here contains things to read, watch, hear and do: - Part 1: Entering Courageous Conversation
- Part 2: Defining and Journaling
- Part 3: Unpacking Racism
- Part 4: The Internal, The Fragile, The Subtle
- Part 5: Solidarity Means Running the Same Risks
- Part 6: The Mirror and The Hammer
We opened this series with this Jay Smooth's talk, "How I Stopped Worrying and Learned to Love Discussing Race." Watch it again. What's changed since you first saw it?
In our final Unpacking Race workshop, we talked about the costs, risks and benefits of doing anti-racist work and used Image Theatre techniques to explore what solidarity looks like. We also danced to "Le Pétrin" ("The Grain") by La Tordue:
"On vient tous du même pétrin,Qu'on soit froment ou sarrasin,Herbe folle, maïs ou blé noir,Du champ voisin ou de nulle part."
"White, pumpernickel or rye,Wheat, corn meal processed or blue,From fields anywhere or nearbyWe all come from the same grain,Enriched by the same rain."
La Tordue recorded this song with a cast of poets and musicians from all over the globe, each reinventing the lyrics in their native tongues, merging their various musical styles, instruments, and cultural references to unite against France's double peine law that sends immigrants convicted of a crime to prison and then deports them upon their release. The artists held concerts to protest the law, and all proceeds from the song funded the solidarity movement.
Art has this power to unite people against oppression. Oppressors know this, and that is why art and the artists who make it are often the first targets when quelling dissent. In 1930s Germany the Bauhaus School was the first thing the Third Reich shut down when they took over before waging genocide on the Roma and Jews. In the 1940s Spain's fascist regime purged books from libraries and artworks from museums. In 1960s Israel all designs printed in the colors of the Palestinian flag were outlawed. The 1970s dictatorships in Chile, Argentina, and Brazil rounded up and tortured actors and musicians. Mainstream media did not acknowledge hip hop culture throughout the 1980s until it became commercially viable. In the U.S. at the turn of this century, municipal, state, and federal agencies conspired to target low-power radio stations and puppeteers who were at the heart of organizing grassroots movements. And more journalists have been killed in Putin's Russia of the past decade than in any other nation that's not currently fighting a war on their own soil. Every time this happens, artists resist and persist, and their art lives on as a testament to that resistance long after oppressive regimes have fallen and been maligned by history.
William Shakespeare said that art was a mirror held up to reality. Centuries later, playwright Bertolt Brecht refuted The Bard, saying, "Art is not a mirror held up to reality, but a hammer with which to break it." Theatre of the Oppressed sees both analogies—mirror and hammer—as steps toward unpacking and then dismantling oppression. As we close this round of Unpacking Race, what are ways that you use art, theatre, music, writing, speaking, photography, movement, film, or any form of creative expression to unpack race and dismantle racism? What are ways that you see others do this? What are the costs, risks, and benefits engaging in creative—and courageous—conversations about race? Share it by leaving comments below.
Art has this power to unite people against oppression. Oppressors know this, and that is why art and the artists who make it are often the first targets when quelling dissent. In 1930s Germany the Bauhaus School was the first thing the Third Reich shut down when they took over before waging genocide on the Roma and Jews. In the 1940s Spain's fascist regime purged books from libraries and artworks from museums. In 1960s Israel all designs printed in the colors of the Palestinian flag were outlawed. The 1970s dictatorships in Chile, Argentina, and Brazil rounded up and tortured actors and musicians. Mainstream media did not acknowledge hip hop culture throughout the 1980s until it became commercially viable. In the U.S. at the turn of this century, municipal, state, and federal agencies conspired to target low-power radio stations and puppeteers who were at the heart of organizing grassroots movements. And more journalists have been killed in Putin's Russia of the past decade than in any other nation that's not currently fighting a war on their own soil. Every time this happens, artists resist and persist, and their art lives on as a testament to that resistance long after oppressive regimes have fallen and been maligned by history.
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