Riots Revisited

            Commemorating the 20-year anniversary of the LA riots, the Los Angeles Times has been running a series of stories about those events and the retrospective stories of people who were involved in them. One such story was that of Madison Richardson, a black surgeon who operated on Reginald Denny, a bus driver beaten to critical condition by four rioters in 1992.

The story described Richardson’s multi-racial background, having been raised in Texas by his African American mother and white stepfather (his father died of a medical accident which fueled his passion for medicine) and a community of Hispanic neighbors. When the family moved to LA, he went to a multi-racial high school and graduated fro Howard University.

He had always believed that race didn’t matter – yet because Denny’s beating by four African American rioters had been captured on film by TV helicopters, Denny had become an inflammatory figure and Richardson knew that his race would become problematic were Denny to succumb to his injuries. After many complications, Denny did ultimately survive, he and Richardson maintain contact, and Richardson feels that the experience ultimately shaped him in a positive way.

Richardson’s relation to his race in this article reminded me somewhat of the Kuramitsu short stories. his reaction to the riots was not so much charged with genuine racial prejudice as it was flavored with an understanding of the economics of race, almost as if he were separated from the events and just needed to strategically avoid conflict. Interactions like these – a black doctor operating on a white man who was beaten by black rioters who were angry that white police officers had not been appropriately charged for their violence against a black man – serves to illustrate not only the complexities of personal identity with race but also the racial geographies that are created in cities like Los Angeles.

Obviously, multiple races are living in close enough contact with each other that these types of professional relationships are established. In the case of the LA riots, the proximity led to conflict. But one can hope that as we learn from our mistakes and if we can continue this close proximity with an open mind, the nearness racial “others” result in greater understanding as opposed to violence. 

Black and Jewish Responses to Japanese Internment

After today’s discussion about “Wilshire Bus,” I wanted to look more into certain racial and ethnic group responses to Executive Order 9066. I stumbled upon an article by Cheryl Greenberg regarding the reactions of Blacks and Jews to the Japanese Internment (http://www.jstor.org/stable/27500003). Both black and Jewish peoples at the time endured exclusion, harassment, and violence because of their race and ethnic backgrounds. Both groups recognized that the struggles they dealt with were similar to that of other oppressed groups, leading to the growth of alliances between various black and Jewish organizations. One activist in the mid 1930s commented on how the treatment of Jews in Germany at the time paralleled past treatment of blacks.

Thus, the idea of solidarity between minority groups certainly existed when Executive Order 9066 came out. Yet neither blacks nor Jews protested in any significant way the internment of the Japanese. Only one black organization, the NAACP, and one Jewish organization, the NCJW, raised any concerns at all. The internal minutes of most groups show that the Executive Order wasn’t even discussed. Greenberg concludes that the silence of blacks and Jews during this time resulted from their own attempts to show themselves as loyal and supportive of the war effort, their varying reasons for supporting WWII in the first place, convert racism, and an inability to see the extensiveness of the racism of the internment.

This led me back to “Wilshire Bus” and the silence that meets the drunk, racist man. Even Esther, who can offer solidarity to the old woman, remains silent and finds a way to internally distance herself from the attack. But the truth is that Esther should not have to bear the entire responsibility of the bus’s silence, just like blacks and Jews should not have to bear the entire responsibility of the American people’s silence.

Little Armenia in Los Angeles

After our readings about Japanese and Mexican culture and communities in the Los Angeles area, I found myself wondering what other waves of immigration had passed through and settled there. I searched through some tourist sites and decided to pick a “little” or “town” (as in Little Italy or Chinatown) neighborhood upon which to focus my attention.

I quickly found a segment of the LAist blog entitled “Neighborhood Project,” which undertook the lofty task of writing a post about each of LA’s astounding 172 established communities. The first post was about Little Armenia, a community I didn’t even know existed in LA. Check out the post here for great pictures and witty captions about this neighborhood.

Little Armenia is in East Hollywood and is populated by many immigrants and their families who escaped the Armenian Genocide in 1915 and the subsequent collapse of the Ottoman Empire. This is a mural between Fountain and Santa Monica Boulevard that depicts the history of Armenia, demonstrating the importance of national history in the memories and backgrounds of many of the community’s inhabitants. The title Little Armenia was officially designated by the city in 2000 to note the strong presence of the residential and commercial Armenian population; I found this to be an interesting combination of Carlo Rotella’s hard and soft aspects of a neighborhood, as Little Armenia’s cultural identity in this case fused with its physicality and official borders.

Because I love Armenian food, I also looked into good restaurants in Little Armenia (for this blog post and perhaps future purposes). The neighborhood is apparently bursting with amazing chicken restaurants, falafel vendors, upscale Armenian and Lebanese fusion restaurants like Carousel, and traditional Armenian bakeries. During this investigative process, I discovered there are also many Thai restaurants and markets because Little Armenia borders Thai Town; moments later I stumbled into a highly recommended subset of Mexican and Central American restaurants, also directly within the neighborhood’s technical boundaries.

Many posts have referred back to “Citizen Restaurant” to discuss the ways in which food reflects and interacts with culture. I think the diverse offerings of Little Armenia comprise yet another example of the article’s relevance: this unexpected diversity of ethnic and fusion foods (in an LA neighborhood already designated by one particular ethnicity) shows the ways in which food represent, interact with, and mix cultures.  

American History X

One of my favorite films of all time is American History X. Not a film I could watch more than once a year, if that (I do not know anyone who can), I believe that it is a film everyone should see. Every film has its problematic elements, do not get me wrong, but the power of the film, and the true story it is based on, is undeniable.  I was reluctant to watch the film when it was first suggested to me by a friend, however I am eternally grateful to him for forcing me to sit through the film, swallow my discomforts with the topic and face the realities of issues it confronts.

 The film, set in Los Angeles (parts set right in our backyard, Chino), follows Derek Vineyard, a recently released from prison former neo-Nazi white supremacist gang leader, as he struggles to keep his younger brother from becoming entrenched in the his former circle of racist hatred and violence. While that is probably the most basic description I could give of the film without giving too much away, I highly recommend that those of you who have not seen the film expose yourself to it and the topics and questions it raises through the tragedy of the narrator and his family. 

I will keep this post short and to the point, as I feel the film itself says so much more that I can give it justice for in a simple blogpost, and leave you with the original theatrical trailer (1998).  

California Design and Fruit Advertising

I recently visited the LA County Museum of Art’s exhibit called “California Design, 1930-1965: ‘Living in a Modern Way.’” [http://www.lacma.org/art/exhibition/californiadesign] The exhibit featured everything from furniture and fashion design to interior decorating and graphic design. Among the graphic design section, I remember noticing several vibrant, eye-catching advertisements for California fruit companies, very similar to the ones we discussed in class Claremont Oranges after the Colonia Complex reading. In the earlier days of advertising, the fruit advertisers put a strong emphasis on the organic nature of their product by drawing attention to the beauty of the natural surrounding. They combined references to the landscape with other themes by drawing the openness western frontier, Spanish mission culture, and railroad transportation. These types of ads emphasized the fact that they were specifically ‘California’ fruit to differentiate themselves from other states.

The fruit labels I saw in the LACMA exhibit had a very different look to the ones we examined in class. Influenced by the art deco styles of the era, these advertisements distilled their concepts down to a more visually simplistic style. In contrast to the emphasis on natural surroundings, these advertisements used stylistic blocky typography, bright and bold colors, and shapes and lines to highlight the product. The backgrounds were primarily one solid color, rather than against a setting of mountains or orchards, giving them a modern, minimalist look. These ads drew attention first and foremost to the brand name of the fruit in an effort to set themselves apart from a more focused in-state competition.

In researching this topic a little bit more, I came across an article in the LA Times from 1996 entitled “Fruit Growers Sour on Ads, Go to Court” [http://articles.latimes.com/print/1996-11-29/news/mn-4069_1_fruit-growers]. I found it really interesting to read through, as it discusses the tension between the farmers and the government with regards to the tradition of California fruit advertising. While the farmers take pride in the tradition of natural and organic fruit growing practices that have been a part of their culture for decades, the government mandates that they are required to pay a fund that goes toward advertising general California fruit as a whole. This article shows that the legacy left by advertisements such as we saw in class or that I saw in a museum is still alive today. As Dan Gerawan says, the farmer featured in the article, he “despises paying more than $600,000 a year to a government-mandated fund to advertise and promote generic California tree fruit. ‘We're doing everything we can to differentiate ourselves,’ gripes Gerawan, 34, a third-generation Central Valley farmer. ‘Yet we have to pay into a fund that advertises that all peaches and plums are the same. A generic message, we feel, definitely hurts us.’”

Zulu Social Aid and Pleasure Club

            After hearing some of the controversy about the Mari Gras Indian’s use of Native American garb I thought it would interesting to look at a Mardi Gras group the used Native African garb instead.

Every year on Mardi Gras a group of men (and a separate group of women) parade down the streets of New Orleans wearing grass skirts and black face paint and throwing coconuts.  This Mardi Gras krewe is called the Zulu Social Aid and Pleasure Club.  

The club first marched in 1909.   It is said to have started by a group called the Tramps.  The Tramps were a group of laborers who also belonged to a Benevolent Aid Society.  Benevolent Aid Societies were an early form of insurance for laborers.  Members paid small dues and they were given compensation if the worker of the household fell sick or died.  The group began their Zulu practice after viewing a play about the Zulu called “There Never was and Never Will be a King like Me.”  The group continues to act as an Aid Society.

Early on in their tradition the group began throwing painted coconuts as a replacement for the expensive glass beads that many other krewes threw.  The group soon began to have lawsuits filed against them because of damage from these coconuts.     In 1987 they were unable to sign any kind of insurance because of the practice.  Luckily, in 1988 Louisiana signed into law a bill that limited the liability on coconut-sustained injuries under pressure from the Zulu.

Aside from coconut controversy, the group also experienced dissent from civil rights groups in the 1960s.  In the 1960’s membership dropped as low as 16 members(1965)  and this statement was issued in the Lousiinana Weekly:

“We, the Negroes of New Orleans, are in the midst of a fight for our rights and for a recognition of our human dignity which underlies those rights. Therefore, we resent and repudiate the Zulu Parade, in which Negroes are paid by white merchants to wander through the city drinking to excess, dressed as uncivilized savages and throwing cocoanuts like monkeys. This caricature does not represent Us. Rather, it represents a warped picture against us. Therefore, we petition all citizens of New Orleans to boycott the Zulu Parade. If we want respect from others, we must first demand it from ourselves.”

            The group was encouraged to stop their traditional usage of black face paint and grass skirts.  As with the coconut issue the Zulu were able to slide by this controversy without infringing on their traditional practice.  By the end of the 1960’s heat had left the group as local civil rights leaders Ernest J. Wright and Morris F.X. Jeff, Sr joined the club.

                 

Website: http://www.kreweofzulu.com/

When the Levees Break

After we listened to a few of the post- Katrina songs in class I had the idea that I would want to write my blog post on something similar. Not knowing where to start, I began my Google search; I found a list entitled "Top Tep Songs in Honour of Hurricane Katrina." Number nine on the list is a song called "When the levees break" by Led Zeppelin. I didn't think this could be accurate as I was 99% sure Led Zeppelin had not come out with a new song as recent as 2005. Turns out, the song was originally written in 1929 by Kansas Joe McCoy and Memphis Minnie in response to the Great Mississippi Flood of 1927. However, I think the significance of this confusion is the idea that the levees breaking during Katrina was not a problem the government had not thought about, or dealt with, before. This was something that, in the case of the Flood, killed hundreds of people and caused hundreds of millions of dollars of damage once before in history.

As the lyrics go, "Crying won't help, praying won't do you no good/ When the levees break, mama, you got to go." The song's lyrics also reference the contribution the Flood made to the Great Migration, as many African- Americans were forced to relocate after the flood. Leading them to mid-west cities, like Chicago.

"When you're going down south and there's no work to do/ And you're going down to Chicago"

One of the reasons I was drawn to this song is the fact that it encompasses the blues genre (the original was a blues song), the theme of man's inability to protect ourselves against nature's desctruction, and finally, the history of the Great Migration: all into one song. Making it somewhat of a mini- history lesson in 7 minutes of music.

Although the original, was not written with Katrina in mind, the themes of city placement vs. the behavior of nature are still relevant, regardless of the time. Which only goes to show that unless significant strides are made to fix errors, these "natural disasters" will only reappear some time down the line.

Heres the Zeppelin version accompanied by a Katrina slideshow: when the levees break