Surveillance and Captivity of Black Excellence Under the White Gaze: What the Treatment of Black Celebrities Can Tell Us About Black Librarianship
By Lorin Jackson & Kenya Flash
Lorin K. Jackson (she/they)
is the Executive Director of Region 2 Regional Medical Libraries at the Medical University of South Carolina. Their research interests include critical librarianship, social justice in librarianship, prison librarianship, community archives, and zines. Find out more about Lorin and their work at lorinj.dev.
Kenya Flash
is the Librarian for Political Science, Global Affairs, and Government Information at Yale University. She also supports the Ethnicity, Race, and Migration and the Ethics, Politics, and Economics majors. Kenya earned her MLIS from Drexel University, her MA in Political Science from East Stroudsburg University and her BA in Government and Law from Lafayette College. She has written and presented on a number of topics in librarianship, and is passionate about working with faculty and students.
Spring and Summer 2021 saw two high profile female athletes ask for a reprieve from being in the public spotlight and being flooded with constant media attention. This was not the first (and neither will it be the last time) that athletes and celebrities needed to step back from being saturated with unwanted attention. What was intriguing, though, was the level of simultaneous vitriol and praise these athletes received. For example, neither Naomi Osaka nor Simone Biles were allowed to make reasonable decisions to ensure they could continue to engage in the sports they love without overwhelming scrutiny. Instead their humanity was lost in arguments over contracts, identifying the greatest athletes of all time, general competitiveness and more. Under the white gaze and within these circumstances, it is abundantly clear that each were perceived as barely human. Instead these athletes became representatives of everything - exoticised beauty, diversity within their respective sports, the image of invulnerability to name a few. Every part of them came to represent an avatar or symbol for the expectations, desires, and experiences of their audiences. Since the Black experience is constantly framed as the opposite or antithesis of the white experience, each aspect of Black people is considered completely different. The Black experience is characterized as not being anything that the white audience can relate to or empathize with. This only further pathologizes and demonizes Black people. Even if we could see that on a human level, across racial lines, we are having that same experience, our experience as Black people instead becomes part of our avatar. In this article, we explore what it takes to become an avatar of greatness, the things we negotiate to gain greatness, the costs of self-advocacy, and finally, the ultimate limits of these avatars. Throughout, we apply the lessons learned from this phenomena to Black librarianship, highlighting the panopticon-like, daily experience of many Black librarians in this field.
To understand the confines of a “Black-excellence” avatar, one must first understand the challenges overcome to reach this high-achieving status. A perfect example of this can be seen with the experience of the Williams sisters, and in particular, Serena Williams. In his 2 part article, US Open 2012: The Williams Sisters: The Making of Champions, Martin Baldridge describes the rise of the Williams sisters as the result of their father’s drive to engage his children in the world of tennis. To do so, he watched tennis, and trained himself, his wife, and their five children to play in Compton, California. At ages as young as four or five, the Williams sisters played on courts for hours each day. They played in neighborhoods so rough that they claim to have dodged bullets when practicing. But even at an early age, the sisters demonstrated an affinity to the sport, their skill encouraging Paul Cohen, a white tennis coach, to become their coach.
And yet, even at the age of six and seven, it seems that Coach Cohen lacked the ability to see their humanity, and instead, saw them as athletic machinery. Of the girls, the coach stated, “I wanted essentially to train two attack dogs who would intimidate every woman that stood on the other side of the net from them, and that they would literally beat the ball and pound their opponents into submission.”[1] This would begin a lifetime of commentary on the “aggressive and animalistic” qualities of the sisters. As described by Jenée Desmond-Harris in her article, Despite Decades of Racist and Sexist Treatment, Serena Williams keeps winning, the Williams sisters could not escape attitudes that sexualized and racialized their physicality, whether or not they won their matches. In this article, the author highlights the ways in which the two who have traditionally been at the top of the sport often have their wins reduced to their physicality and their sexuality.[2] Subsequently, one can deduce that the avatar of the Williams sisters is an amalgamation of the Hottentot Venus, Sapphire, and the Mandingo tropes.[3] This avatar was still alive and on display in the depiction of Serena Williams’ 2018 loss to Naomi Osaka by Mark Knight, Australian cartoonist.[4] As late as March 2021, Serena was noted to be the most fined woman in the Women’s Tennis Association due to her attitude on the court.[5]
Copyright: John Mathew Smith 2001, Kingkongphoto & www.celebrity-photos.com from Laurel Maryland, USA
Will Serena and Venus ever be able to move past these tropes and cement their legacy as the greatest of all time? Only time will tell, but if one explores the current media treatment of the sisters, there is an emphasis on a decline in the sport, a comparison to their former play and constant comparisons to newer Black tennis stars.[6] Naomi Osaka’s legacy should be by all rights her own, as the Williams sisters were able to differentiate themselves from Althea Gibson. So, we ask: how does this treatment and avartization of Black excellence reflect within library spaces and on Black librarianship?
Tennis, much like librarianship, is an institution that has been built upon whiteness and that reinforces white supremacy. The small number of Black librarians ensures that our presence within the profession will be remarked upon and noted. We may not reach the heights of greatness of the Williams sisters or Naomi Osaka, but our positioning within these spaces still carries with it a panopticon-like celebrity that is only reinforced by our ability to play at standards established by whiteness.[7] We are initially considered to be the Black librarian who can speak to other minorities, who will advocate for social justice, who will be diversity champions, but, eventually, we are segregated into a variety of previously-established tropes, ingrained with white values and perspectives. Maybe we are the aggressive librarian who will change the organization (but is also a problem and has to be managed), maybe we are the colleague who is great and chooses to not “upset the applecart,” maybe we are the librarian who was made by the institution and ought to be held up as a success of their programs. Maybe we are simply there until others need to have their statements reviewed. If you are unlucky enough to follow in the shoes of another Black librarian, the surveillance gains an additional tinge - that of comparison to the previous librarian. These tropes are shared across the organization and the profession, coloring our interactions or experiences while we work in libraries.
In 2019, April Hathcock was verbally attacked at a national conference (while sacrificing her time, money, and energy), and the immediate response was to send a lawyer and another Black librarian to “handle” her.[8] This speaks to the avatarization of Black librarians within this profession. This attack was based on the attacker’s perception of “racial innuendos” and doxxing; it was not based on personal knowledge or engagement (which would have still been inappropriate). The day after April was urged to be “civil” and “professional” by some white colleagues who had witnessed her being abused.[9] The white colleagues’ responses could be read as if they were encouraging her not to step outside of her avatar. More recently during the pandemic, the avartization continues.
Black library workers have had to manage the feelings of those in their organizations who have only just begun to experience a racial reckoning, while still having to contemplate the effect of the pandemic on their existence, and the trauma of the state-sanctioned murder of Black people. While well-meaning, calls to reach out to Black friends and colleagues (when there are only a few Black people within these spaces) enhances the feeling of panopticon-like surveillance. Would you say the wrong thing? Can you refuse the request to speak for how Black people are feeling? Can you really stomach the organization’s decision to highlight Black lives as if they are only for study? Can you choose not to be put on display or used by the corporate engine that seeks to show that they are woke? These questions are subsumed in the need to go about your normal day and support yourself financially.
One of the ways Black people are conditioned to be in schools and the workplace is by learning how to code-switch. Being able to code-switch successfully gives us currency to gain access to increased opportunities financially and professionally. Codeswitching seems like a rather innocuous term that brings to mind the image of a translator, navigating communication carefully without causing any innate harm to their wellbeing. Unfortunately, code-switching has consequences for those who must do it for their survival. When in an effort to be accepted a Black person is constantly leaving parts of their personality or life outside of where they work, their overall well-being suffers. Also, the expectation to “fit in” culturally strengthens the idea that in order to be present in certain workplaces or even more so, in order to have our achievements recognized, we have to exist in a particular way that matches the interests and cultural mores of those in power.
When we look to the example of Olympic runner, Sha’Carri Richardson, we see what happens when we choose to show up as our full, authentic selves - we are punished. Sha’Carri’s marijuana usage jeopardized her opportunity to participate in the 2021 Tokyo Olympics, despite her outstanding sprinting performance. Her image and reputation were tarnished by her honest admittance to marijuana use. We know that other athletes also participate in using recreational and non-recreational drugs, perhaps others did even at the ‘21 Olympics. The media backlash against Sha’Carri Richardson denied her humanity and attacked her credibility even with her immense displays of athletic talent. Her entire career was left tarnished by this honest admittance about her lifestyle.
Being Black in LIS presents similar dilemmas that can create real consequences. If we share aspects of our identity with our colleagues that make them uncomfortable, we risk at best, frequent microaggressions and at worst, full-blown retaliation that threatens or even could result in the removal of us from our positions. The constant messaging Black people in LIS receive is that we need to conform to whiteness and white culture in these spaces. If we refuse to comply to white standards, we are told it is better that we abandon the enterprise of LIS altogether because we do not fit in and will constantly be reminded of this fact.
Simone Biles in 2016. (Fernando Frazão/Agência Brasil)
Without doubt, Simone Biles and Naomi Osaka are at the top of their game. While not as reviled as the Williams sisters, they both face the severe spotlight of fame for their ascendancy within each sport. In an article entitled, Simone Biles’s Excellence is an Act of Resistance, Jemele Hill highlights the fact that Biles’ has been challenged by the fact that judges cannot imagine her boundaries. She has surpassed what was thought possible in Women’s gymnastics and hasn’t had that success acknowledged in the scoring of her routines. Naomi Osaka blew the world away when she defeated Serena Williams in the 2018 US Open. Since then, Naomi Osaka’s role in the sport has risen. Winner of 4 grand slam titles,[10] one cannot deny that she is a star on the rise.
And yet, this summer both of these elite athletes found themselves within a negative spotlight for admitting that they are neither invulnerable nor inhuman. While both athletes received quite a bit of supportive feedback, the negative feedback was rather caustic. For Osaka, the spotlight has always been a difficult place, but in Spring 2021, she recognized mid-tournament that the spotlight had become too much and stepped back. She had grown overwhelmed by the combined intensity of each event, the need to perform, and then to have her performance, her Japanese identity, her parentage, and her activism questioned at many of these tournaments.[11] Osaka was called “narcissistic, spoiled,” and was accused of “diva-behavior,” while also being hailed as brave.[12] After her loss at the Olympics, her Japanese identity and representation of Japan[13] was called into question. Simone Biles did not fare much better at the Olympics when she withdrew from two events. Biles, used to the spotlight, recognized during the preliminaries that her body was not reacting in accordance with her intentions- this is dangerous within gymnastics. Biles was accused of being a quitter, and of being a national embarrassment.[14] Biles still went on to win a bronze medal at the Olympics. It is important to note that Biles also lost an aunt during this time and had the trial of her abuser ahead of her.[15]
“To be an outspoken Black woman in higher education is a dangerous and segregated experience.”
This quotation reflects the experience of Black women in academia, primarily in libraries. To self-advocate, one has to consider what will be the cost of that advocacy. Which avatar-like personality will you attain, and will this personality dog you through the profession? What is the cost of not advocating? What does self-advocacy even look like? Librarianship is said to be a small field, and careers can be made or broken by a few whispered words. As the solo Black person or as one of a few, can Black librarians really decide to protect themselves without severe costs? The answer is unfortunately complicated. Neither Simone Biles nor Naomi Osaka walked away from the professions that reviled them and that still have toxic spaces. What we can learn from Naomi Osaka and Simone Biles is sometimes we need to find a safe space, something of a sanctuary to soothe the trauma inflicted upon us within these spaces. And if we are in the center of the spotlight, when we return, we just need to do what we can, at our level, and in our own power.
When it comes to displays of Black Excellence, the messaging we receive is to “be great, but not too great.” When you display that much excellence, you threaten the status quo and cause others to risk not looking as pristine as they did without your presence.
What white culture fails to realize is that our greatness is borne out of immense struggle and sacrifice. Venus and Serena Williams overcame seemingly insurmountable circumstances with being from Compton, California. While they never felt that they came from a difficult background or that they grew up impoverished, the area they were from predicted that they would become an unsuccessful statistic as Black girls.
When they achieved incredible feats as some of the best athletes in history, the media also seemed to create narratives around their success that sought to demean them or belittle their achievements. What’s more is the recent exposure of the truth of Serena’s experience as a pregnant mother and the mistreatment she had to endure by medical professionals.
Despite her wealth, achievements, and stature, Serena was still mistreated as a Black woman in those circumstances. We are constantly reminded of our Blackness and gender in an effort to “keep our place.” Fighting against this way of thinking is a constant battle that challenges us to be resilient; in spite of what we are told about our identities and who believes those narratives.
“Paid the cost to be the boss.”
Within LIS, our positions and residencies facilitate the creation of an analogous dynamic. Despite showing incredible promise or revitalizing programming within the libraries where we work, for example, we are still relegated to entry-level positions for which we are often overqualified and underpaid. We overperform in order to even be considered for leadership positions and are rarely, if ever, are given the opportunity to lead.
In spaces where there are so few of us, the need to highlight the successes of the few does seem important. However, the line towards tokenization ought to be considered as a potential harm which could subsequently lead to a panopticon-like lack of freedom for Black library workers. This lack of freedom would result in a paucity of authenticity, in the inability to self-advocate, or in ostracization. Greatness ought to be respected, but not at the cost of the individual. It is our hope that institutions recognize this before the profession loses even more talented individuals.
For rising Black Library stars, the key to this is that libraries on a whole will be antagonistic to Black excellence without certain concessions. In order to gain a position of power in libraries as a Black person, we have to accept certain responsibilities and social cues. When we move into positions of power, we have to accept the reality that we are required to behave in a particular manner. This includes displaying interest in certain things, sounding a particular, non-threatening way, and portraying a particular aesthetic in the way we dress in order to be more accepted. Anything that we do that threatens the status quo of our institutions or of the larger LIS profession, whether they be unique displays of individuality or challenges to the stereotypical representations of Black people, will be met with disdain. The outward display of our personalities may bring about consequences that can hurt our chances for professional success or growth.
We have recently seen an increased interest in the LIS profession regarding diversity, equity, and inclusion efforts. Our hope is that this piece opens more opportunities for conversation regarding what it means to be more diverse, equitable, and inclusive, particularly for Black library workers. We want to be cautious, intentional, and thoughtful about even the language we use when it comes to involving Black people in LIS. We argue that it is simply not enough and will inevitably generate further harm if these considerations are not made with the presence of Black people within the field. We know that our circumstances have forced us to be great, to be inspirational as workers within this field, but this should not necessitate our suffering in an effort to be a part of a system we did not create. It is currently on us to save ourselves, and to invest in our own peace and wellness. To Black library workers everywhere, we encourage you to slow down, even if you will be reviled because the work will ALWAYS be there, but, you… you are precious.
Footnotes
https://bleacherreport.com/articles/1247810-wimbledon-2012-the-williams-sisters-the-making-of-champions-part-1
https://www.vox.com/2017/1/28/14424624/serena-williams-wins-australian-open-venus-record-racist-sexist-attacks
https://nmaahc.si.edu/blog-post/popular-and-pervasive-stereotypes-african-americans
https://www.essence.com/fashion/essence-fashion-house/essence-fashion-house-2021-announcement/
https://www.sportscasting.com/serena-williams-is-one-of-the-most-fined-players-in-womens-tennis/
https://www.washingtonpost.com/sports/2021/02/18/naomi-osaka-serena-williams-australian-open/
https://www.inthelibrarywiththeleadpipe.org/2015/lis-diversity/
https://aprilhathcock.wordpress.com/2019/01/30/alamw-what-happened-and-what-should-happen-next/
https://www.pragmaticmom.com/2019/02/racism-and-white-fragility-at-alamw19/
https://www.theguardian.com/sport/2021/feb/21/naomi-osaka-aims-for-all-surface-dominance-to-fulfil-potential
https://www.vice.com/en/article/7kvxkg/naomi-osaka-depression-french-open
https://www.washingtonpost.com/world/2021/06/01/naomi-osaka-world-reacts-mental-health/
https://www.nytimes.com/2021/07/27/world/asia/naomi-osaka-olympics-loss.html
https://www.theatlantic.com/ideas/archive/2021/07/simone-biles-doesnt-need-to-look-invincible/619606/
Ibid.
https://womengenderandfamilies.ku.edu/uncategorized/crosstalk/black-excellence-interrupted-the-silencing-impact-of-whiteness-on-a-black-higher-education-student/