Nonetheless, the use of Black culture in Athens is clearly disproportionate to the actual exposure to the African diaspora, which boils down to the sparse immigrants who are usually artisans, merchants or farm workers in the rural areas. In default of her occupying any space, the Black woman is turned into a consumable good, a fashion feature, a design on men’s Bermuda shorts. She is (mis)represented as a token of artistic creativity by white Europeans who call themselves “content creators” or “designers” and who rely on the word “original.” Yet, Black women exist right outside of those “exclusive artsy boutiques,” living a reality so divergent from the exoticized figures displayed that they are not even recognized. 

The myth of a homogenous exotic Africa alienates very real African women, who become so estranged from their own image that they are not recognized as the originators of their own cultures. Appropriation is theft. It contributes to the undermining of Black self-identification, and Black worth. White designers are direct witnesses of Black struggle, and yet, choose to propagate the white-gaze-tainted lie of a palatable Black culture for consumption that continues to harm Black people.

It is indeed out of a survival burden that Black women in Greece sit outside all day selling their priceless culture to unburdened folks for cheap. Frivolous white fashion trends create invisible strings that hold Black enterprise and livelihood at the mercy of cultural appropriation, coercing us into cooperation.

This constant denial of power, agency, and credit through a systematic cultural appropriation is an experience shared throughout the immigrant family. It is common to see Black parents and children merchandising on touristy Greek plazas, day and night alike. A night in Nafplion displays abusive power dynamics when, as tourists enjoy drinks and tzatziki, their kids regroup to bully Black vendors into giving them free articles under the helpless eyes of their Black children. While some fake crying, others blame their acted-out misery on the Black sellers’ behaviour, demonizing them before their own children helping with the sales.

European tourists vacation abroad, holding the privilege to make it an enjoyable experience for themselves. They pay no mind to those who lack agency, means, and power to do the same, thereby exacerbating this hardship. As wealthy white people, and potential clients whose wellbeing is looked after, tourists abuse Black immigrants and Black locals through ignorance and consumption.

Travelling is not just escaping one’s own reality, it is stepping into the lived reality of others, forming relations of power that need to be interrogated. It is thus important for Westerners to check their privilege, and question their role when leaving the West and/or interacting with non-Western cultures, as such interactions and tourism have their roots in colonialism. It is a contentious but relevant question whether it is even possible to decolonize tourism, as power and agency inequalities in travel, migration, and exodus exist on a global scale. Nonetheless, it remains crucial for those who hold privilege to critically reflect on the costs their benefits force onto Black, Native peoples and people of colour.

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Kasperski then spoke, reminding us of the importance of the solidarity between Black and Indigenous peoples and the work that still needs to be done.

Jennifer Maccarone, a Member of the National Assembly of Quebec of Westmount–Saint-Louis who is herself white, also made an appearance. “I see you and I hear you,” she claimed. Her repeating “I think of you as my roots” made the audience all glance at each other, simply asking why she would think such a thing.

“You all [the Black people? The Black people in the room? The two women of colour who had just spoken?] make me stronger” she affirmed.

Dean Robert Leckey emphasized the importance of remembering the past and working for a “more just future,” and introduced Dr. Adelle Blackett, a Professor of Law who herself introduced Dr. Wendy Greene, stressing the fact that “part of Black History Month is to value each other and our accomplishments.” It was indeed a heart-warming moment of Black excellence – Black McGill students on the benches, Black professors, Black tenured professors, Black women who are tenured professors, Black activists: an impressive crowd of Black success.

Keynote speaker Dr. Greene’s work revolves around the intersection of hair and civil and human rights advocacy. Not only does she fight for her people in legislature, through the CROWN Act against racial discrimination through hair – but she does so by creating a net accessible to her community. She is the originator of the viral #FREETHEHAIR hashtag that every year brings the Black community together to denounce injustices of hair discrimination, such as the recent cases of Deandre Arnold or Andrew Johnson.

Dr. Wendy Greene evoked her South Carolina childhood as shaping the activist she is today. She reflected on the continuance of the Black struggle through the history of both her parents’ activism and her own.

“The personal can be professional; it can be political,” she said.

Hair discrimination happens in the workplace and in public environments and the law does not truly protect Black people from racial discrimination. Title VII of the US Civil Rights Act, the federal anti-discrimination law protects “hair texture” that is considered to be the afro, but not hair styles that include braids, twists, locks etc. This is because, apparently the constitution only acknowledges immutable characteristics as racial; in Dr. Greene’s own words, a “legal fiction.”

She also denounced the Equal Employment Opportunity Commission as unhelpful, since there is no law that recognizes race as a cultural feature, only as a bodily matter, hence the unfortunate nature of race as social construct.

Dr. Greene has been defending a few of the countless victims of racialized and gender-based hair discrimination. Her work encompasses people who were ordered to “fix” their natural hair with chemical relaxers, or to wear wigs as conditions of employment, graduation, promotion, and schooling; people who hear negative comments and bear humiliation daily, along with threats of discipline or even arrest when protesting, whether it is in the States, Canada, Australia, South Africa or elsewhere.

She also deplored the fact that this everlasting stigmatization is internalized by the Black community – how many times have we heard of bad versus good hair. The lingo used by the Black community to define the black body and hair shows this internalized hate of its roots. It reveals a hierarchy that was created in terms of who would have the most potential to have the straightest hair, the fairest skin.

“Before you’re even out of the womb, someone is already thinking about the texture of your hair and the opportunities that go with it.”

Dr. Greene managed to unite the audience in sadly amusing relatable situations such as hair deserts. She ended her speech on the note of health, mentioning the scalp and hair damages (burns, alopecia, increased risks of cancer) that the use of chemical relaxers brings. “Are we losing our livelihood or our lives?” she asked.

Singers Fredericka Petit-Homme, Myrtle Thomas, and Ruben Shaym Brutus, and steel pannist Mr. Pöng blessed the audience’s ears at the end of the ceremony, reminding everyone that Blackness is a constant struggle that is uniting, but is also a diverse and beautiful musical culture.

Students who are interested in learning more can visit the CROWN Act website at thecrownact.com and sign the petition.

Black History Month is on at McGill until the end of February. For a full schedule of events, go to: https://www.mcgill.ca/equity/initiatives-education/black-history-month/bhm-2020-schedule-events

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These bottles can be heavily decorated with pictures of Creole women wearing the traditional costume, or just feature the name of the distillery or plantation home with the date of its creation, such as the famous blue bottle reading “Trois-Rivières, since 1660.”

Highlighting the year of the distillery’s creation right under its name is proof of the owners’ pride in their product’s longevity. This also aims at impressing and attracting the potential buyer and consumer. 1660 is a display of confidence.

However, thinking fondly about such a remote date while savouring a “ti-punch” (a Caribbean cocktail made from rum, lime, and cane sugar) is ultimately both foolish and ignorant. But why?

The slave trade was institutionalized and perpetrated for four centuries, exclusively for capitalist-induced benefits. White capitalist slavers, whose descendants are now also known as “békés,” used to possess (and still possess) the land fit for agriculture and the means of production, while abusing the black women, men, and children who were producing cane, sugar, and rum. The pride held by all these rum houses is misplaced.

Maybe the producers take it lightly; “it’s just history,” “it’s just a marketing strategy.” But that marketing strategy is disrespectful towards our ancestors who were enslaved.

“Since 1660” stresses the long-lasting success that Trois-Rivières rum has granted capitalist exploiters, when that success is only due to the labour of enslaved peoples. I, therefore, accuse the Trois-Rivières rum of merit appropriation and embellishment of their success.
“1660” is a decoy. The brief label does not make clear what 1660 implies: natives being exterminated, devastating colonialism, and a slave trade which enabled the production of sugarcane while only benefitting the slavers.

Trois-Rivières rum also bears the specific attractiveness of the vast culture it is part of: exoticism. The latter is an issue in many regards. Of course, it deals with the imperialistic, demeaning, and paternalistic gaze the white man casts on the West Indies. This idea, coupled with the benefits of capitalism, shapes colonialism. The word “exotic” implies a different civilization – one that is foreign but also inferior. The colonizer’s culture is seen as dominant, with the colonizer refusing to view the “exotic” as equal. After observing the Arawaks and other native people from the Caribbean, the colonizers could well have used the word “exotic” to refer to them, right before eradicating them. This adjective has also been used to qualify black men and women from the Caribbean in order to sexualize them in an unhealthy and immoral way.

In other words, framing the Caribbean as “exotic” is a way to erase a dark history of slavery and colonization, and to distort its people; once more a means implemented by white men (from the Caribbean or abroad) to close their eyes in order to feel comfortable, thus ignoring a certain reality and exonerating themselves.

The above-mentioned thoughts open a debate on reparations which to this day has had no conclusion, but whose answer lies, in my opinion, on the more complex debate of a socialist revolution.

A limit must be imposed to my criticism: indeed, ever since the beginning of the 20th century, Trois-Rivières rum is no longer owned by the békés or by another Martinican owner, but belongs to European companies (the French Chevrillon and more recently the Italian Campari). Hence, with this change of ownership, we might no longer accuse them entirely of negligence. Maybe they do not have the cultural background to give the people the pride we deserve. But we can’t help but notice the depletion of our heritage and the loss of our identity and we can question the legitimacy of foreign companies to own our rum.

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