Sankofa

In light of the current state of the world, and most importantly to me, the state of this country, I thought that some conversation about what it is to be black would benefit a lot of people, not just myself. After some thought about how I wanted to open up this conversation, I finally settled on using my high school Senior year AP ART portfolio as the driving force behind my initiation of this conversation.

I started thinking about this portfolio long before I even actually started it - I had completed it officially around January-February 2019, however I had been thinking about it as early as late 2017. This portfolio, which I had used all of my senior year in high school to put together for my AP Studio Art course [which I absolutely loved] was meant to really encapsulate my thoughts and feelings about what it was and how it felt to be black in America. But I realise that even now as I type this, I still don’t really understand it fully myself, and I sure did not 2 years ago. However, I feel that the diversity and complexity in the artwork that I will be presenting will help to understand the framing of my mind as I spent those nine months meditating on the idea. I believe that is the beauty in the complexity of this main question - there really is no wrong or right answer, nor is there one that can definitively define the experience of every black person in this country. To be black, and a woman, in this country, is forever a changing experience for everyone. Even just yesterday when it was announced that Biden had won the 2020 election, I knew that the definition of being black in this country was subject to change... but like most people, I can only hope that this would be for the better.

For quite some time, this image [to the left] has been the poster image for what it means to live as a ​black person in America - to constantly be afraid that our last breathing moments would be taken away by the law enforcement that we’ve been so distrusting of for so many years. Or that our sons, husbands, lovers, fathers, brothers will leave our home one day and never return to us the same, or even at all. That we might get a phone call saying that we might never hear from our loved ones ever again. Situations like these happen to people on the day, but the difference between us and them is that black people experience this at a greater rate, all because of the skin color that we cannot change. Here depicts a Black Mary carrying her son Jesus in her arms after he’s been murdered by the hands of the Roman government and the Israelites that supported this capital punishment.

This was not meant to glorify or make black people into Gods or Messiahs, however the point of making Jesus and Mary black in this piece, juxtaposed to the headlines and fired gun in the background, is to show the parallels between the story of an innocent and well intentioned man who was murdered for almost no reason, and black men who are murdered by law enforcement for no reason. Black women mourn for their black children, brothers, and lovers, the same way that I’m sure Mary mourned the loss of her innocent son as well.

Here is a piece that I like to refer to as “Salon Scene” or even better [as the background shows, “Straight Do Equals Revenue.” A very integral part of our culture as black people is our hair - since our ancestors were in the motherland til now, hair has always been a representation of ourselves and of our culture. And being that perhaps Afro hair is probably the most distinguished and unique of hair textures in its nature, the value put on our hair is no joke.There was once a time during the slave trade, when rice and dry wheat were weaved into and hidden in our hair so that women and children would not go hungry while aboard their slave ships or even during escapes from plantations. Our hair is a big reason why we as a people have lived this long in this country. However, as this piece depicts, having straighter hair heightens the chances of us receiving better jobs - yet even in pursuing this, we spend a lot of money doing so. In this country, we can never come as we are and be accepted for just that to even make a living.

I realize that all I’ve had to say about being a Black/Ghanaian-American has been negative til now. So I’ve decided to end this on a piece I call “Sankofa,” which means “Go back and get it” in my Akan tongue. I strongly believe that our people have only been able to endure all that we have til now because of how highly we regard our history, culture, and our ancestry. Here depicts a woman, who in listening to music, finds a connection between her and perhaps an ancestor or depiction of herself from the past. And its this connection where she finds a broader sense of self and the world she lives in. I am able to relate this heavily, as Ghanaian and the various genres of Black music help me mend the disconnect I feel, especially living in a world where I’m told that my existence is wrong.

I’ve spoken quite a bit on this issue, between even these 1000 words are not enough to cover my thoughts and experiences. Even 10 years from now, I still won’t be able to come to a definitive answer or explanation for everything, but I hope this gave you a bit of a glimpse.

If you’re interested, here are a few more pieces from my portfolio [and individual works] that you might enjoy: