[00:00:00] Jasmyne Gilbert: Hi, my name is Jasmyne and you're listening to “between starshine and clay.” The title of this platform pays honor to the inimitable Lucille Clifton, who reminds me that the best is yet to come. Did you miss me? I've been recovering from a summer cold, so please excuse me if I still sound a little congested.
[00:00:23] I'm on the mend and we are firmly, firmly in fire season in Southern California. So on top of, uh, my lungs being like, nah, there's also smoke in the air, but it's important to me to get back into my recitation practice after taking some time off to rest.
[00:00:46] Today I'm reading from the essay that I published on August 20th, 2024, titled, Fly in the Buttermilk. It reads, there is a professor in my program who inadvertently, I think, draws out my interest in my own Black American-ness. Their courses primarily cover white western literature, art, and history. And when we talk about black subject matter, it's most often about African folks from the continent or Afro Caribbean folks, but rarely Black Americans.
[00:01:16] And I want to be clear that I do not draw this distinction in a xenophobic way or some misguided exaltation of all American sentiment. I just want to see myself and my people reflected in what I'm studying more often. In class, they say things like the beauty of our glorious Capitol, the genius of Walt Disney, our legacy, women's beauty, accompanied by an onslaught of art depicting only white women.
[00:01:47] If you look at any of my course notes, you will see the evidence of an unfortunate truth. There comes a point during every session when I need to doodle to stay awake.
[00:01:58] So after contending with relentless exhausting whiteness for six plus hours a day for four days in a row. I inevitably reached a boredom breaking point during class and needed to doodle to keep my eyes open. I even wrote the first draft of this dispatch during class, channeling my big feelings into writing as I tend to do.
[00:02:20] I do not mean to disparage my professor or even the institution because I expected nothing less when I enrolled. Lately though, the exhausting European-ness of our curriculum and the realities of being a fly in the buttermilk have been grating on me. My frustration is essentially a question about belonging and whose thinking is worthy of propagating.
[00:02:44] I have not named the professor intentionally because I've come to hold deep affection and respect for them.
[00:02:50] Jasmyne Gilbert: They have taught me so much about aesthetics and world history, challenging my tendency to be simultaneously intellectually dismissive and arrogant. It's just that their courses tend to epitomize everything I resent about education in predominantly white institutions. When they telegraph the upcoming folktales course, they do not mention Zora Neale Hurston.
[00:03:13] They speak profusely and in encyclopedic detail about European and white American literature, as if Toni Morrison didn't exist. They opine at length about obscure European myths and religious histories as if Yvonne Chireau, Stephen Finley, and Anthony Pinn do not have published works. These are epistemological and pedagogical choices. And based on what makes it into the syllabi, black American myth is an afterthought. So fuck it. I'll do it myself.
[00:03:46] Instead of picking on my professor, I want to focus on developing the resolve resignation. to study and write about the traditions of my own culture, since it seems like it's up to me to give myself that education. When I enrolled, I didn't anticipate focusing my academic research on Black American myth and literature.
[00:04:04] In fact, part of my resistance to writing about Beloved four times and counting is because doing so feels predictable. Of course, the Black girl studying myth would have Toni Morrison as a research interest. Do you see the mental hoops I'm making myself jump through? I'm frustrated by the curriculum, yet further exhausting myself by resisting a novel that seems to want something from me.
[00:04:25] Do I contradict myself? Very well, then I contradict myself. I am large. I contain multitudes. To date, I've taken essentially three courses on Greek and Roman mythology, and just one about African and African diaspora mythic traditions, during which we did not discuss the rituals and religions that arose from slavery in the United States.
[00:04:47] Again, that is not a critique of the professor, because I adored that class. where we discuss Afrofuturism and world building inside contexts, where power structures force Black folks to assimilate or move to the margins. It was so much fun. It really, I had so much fun in that class and it yielded beautiful reflections on water symbolism and the diaspora that I've already shared here on Substack.
[00:05:14] I can recall just two assigned texts from Yvonne Chireau about Hoodoo or Conjure from other courses, and only a handful of texts by and about Black authors, primarily African and Caribbean. There was even one guest lecturer who assigned almost all readings by black women, because she has been conducting explicit research on conceptualizations of race in the classics. Still, I can't help but feel like my mind and spirit are missing out on something.
[00:05:40] I don't mean this as a bratty, privileged tirade about how the very expensive advanced education I'm undertaking isn't 100 percent tailored to my own interests. I don't believe in the consumer model of education where we throw money at professors and they do exactly what we demand. Instead, I'm choosing to look at my own grievances as an opportunity to be accountable for my education and honor the legacies of Octavia E. Butler and Toni Morrison by making room for what I care about myself. It seems like if I want to learn about myths and religious cultures within Black American contexts, then it's up to me to figure that out on my own. I resent that fact, but clearly I can't expect my professors to think how I think or see what I see because they are not me.
[00:06:32] My education is my responsibility, and maybe that's for the best.
[00:06:38] That concludes the recitation of “Fly in the Buttermilk.” Before we get out of here, I want to remind you to take a look at the footnotes in the written version of this piece. They contain additional references to my beloveds Octavia Butler and Toni Morrison, as well as notes about Romare Bearden, Walt Whitman, and essays I've published on Substack previously. There's also an adorable doodle included in the original essay, which has a fun epiphany about how the animated children's movie Thumbelina, which is one of my favorites, might, in fact, be an Underworld story, so visit Jasmynegilbert.substack.com for all reference materials. I'm grateful for the support and attention you have given to my creative practice today.
[00:07:24] I would be doubly grateful if you shared “between starshine and clay” with your loved ones. I'm trying to reach 250 subscribers by the end of 2024, and I can only do that with your help. If you're feeling abundant and have spare funds to support my public study and research practice about Black feminism and cultural mythology, please consider signing up for a paid subscription to “between starshine and clay” at only $8 a month.
[00:07:54] Thank you for listening today. Enjoy the rest of your week. I look forward to being back in your inbox very soon.
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