Author: Roy Kim

Yuri Kochiyama: A Radical Activist and Ally

May 6, 2019 / Roy Kim

Asians – and in particular Asian women – are generally excluded from the American political sphere due to both a cultural inclination to look inwardly to their so-called immigrant or ethnic enclaves and a silencing of – or sheer lack of – Asian voices in the US government. Yuri Kochiyama – an American woman born to Japanese immigrants – broke that mold by involving herself as an activist in her youth, most notably after she and her father were wrongly accused and detained in the wake of the Pearl Harbor attack. During her time in a Japanese internment camp detained with other Japanese Americans, she gained a sense of racial pride under the yoke of racial injustices. After starting a family and moving to New York City, she remained incredibly active and involved, advocating for integrated education for underprivileged, inner-city children and employment for black and Puerto Rican workers in NYC, and even going to prison for her role in protests. It wasn’t until 1963 when she met Malcolm X at a courthouse, however, when she fully involved herself with the Black Power and black nationalist movements in Harlem, quickly becoming a force of radical activism and leading efforts against wrongful incarceration of political prisoners and anti-US imperialism, among many other issues. She was a great woman, by many accounts, and even served as a bridge “between the Black and Asian movements and between East and West Coast activists,” and formed a unique iteration of contemporary color consciousness in the US. Despite her incredible body of work, her legacy is quite controversial, especially given her vocal support of individuals like Osama bin Laden, Che Guevara, Patrice Lumumba, and Fidel Castro.

I chose to do this archive because it represents the work and narrative of a very unique individual in a very unique context: an Asian American woman who was widely recognized and praised for her activism on both the black and Asian American liberation fronts. Despite her contentious legacy, Yuri Kochiyama was an incredible female activist who dismantled many stereotypes by being the face of a momentous radical, anti-imperial, anti-capitalist, black liberation movement.

I chose the first artifact because it first captures Kochiyama in her natural environment as an activist and a leader. The one photo does a lot to capture her essence: her facial expression, posture, and body language all work together to depict her tirelessness and fearlessness in fighting racial injustice and imperialism. This is also a significant photo considering the sheer lack of Asian American voices and faces in American history, especially on the civil rights front.

Yuri Kochiyama speaks at an anti-war demonstration in New York City’s Central Park around 1968 (Caption and photo provided by the Zinn Education Project)

I chose this second artifact – a video interview of Kochiyama speaking about meeting Malcolm X – because it represents a significant moment in her political career. Upon meeting Malcolm, they quickly formed a friendship and she thrust herself behind his movement for black liberation, a significant moment of color consciousness and alliance beyond color lines in the US. She would even be present at his assassination two years later, cradling his head.

Yuri Kochiyama describes the moment she met Malcolm X (Densho Encyclopedia)

The final artifact is an excerpt from many years later: a 2003 interview for the Objector: A Magazine of Conscience and Resistance in which Kochiyama defended Osama bin Laden, a move that surprised many and angered even more. Despite the fact that she was an incredibly vocal opponent of American imperialism, people were stunned by the idea that these “loathsome figures” could be admired or respected. She praised him for his self-awareness and his effectiveness in combating American empire at whatever the cost.

Yuri Kochiyama explains why she respects Osama bin Laden (Vox.com article)

In conclusion, I sought to utilize my online archive as one that captured Yuri Kochiyama’s initial activist efforts, then highlighted a significant shift in her political career and outlook through a chance encounter with Malcolm X, and finally ended with a quote that demonstrated how radical her ideologies were.

Sources:

(1) https://www.vox.com/2016/5/19/11713686/yuri-kochiyama

(2) https://www.zinnedproject.org/news/tdih/yuri-kochiyama-was-born/

(3) https://www.blackpast.org/african-american-history/kochiyama-yuri-1921/

(4) https://encyclopedia.densho.org/Yuri_Kochiyama/#cite_ref-ftnt_ref3_3-0

Black Panther and Diasporic Consciousness

April 9, 2019 / Roy Kim

The blockbuster Marvel film, based on its title superhero character “Black Panther,” made shockwaves across the globe upon its release in January 2018 for the compelling and original storyline, the representation and portrayal of black and female characters, and the diversity in its cast.

The film is centered in the futuristic Wakanda, an isolated and technologically advanced African civilization that is hidden away from the world. Wakanda is rich in natural resources including vibranium, an element that allows it to develop its advanced technology, and an herb that gives its eater superhuman strength and speed. The nation’s culture is also incredibly rich, as demonstrated by its unique music, clothing, cultural and military tradition, and political structure. For onlookers, however, the country looks like a destitute, developing nation with nothing to boast but “textiles, shepherds, and cool outfits.”

T’Challa, the heir to the throne, returns home to Wakanda in the midst of internal and external turmoil. Despite his bloodline, he is challenged by the leader of a rival tribe to ritual combat for the crown. T’Challa ultimately wins but a more dangerous threat to the nation looms in the duo of Ulysses Klaue, a white arms dealer desperate for vibranium, and Erik Killmonger, a Wakandan who feels resentment for his father’s death and Wakanda’s inaction in a time of tremendous disenfranchisement of black people around the globe. Ultimately, after a series of events, Killmonger gains control over Wakanda by ritual combat and hatches a plan to distribute Wakandan weapons forged by vibranium to black people around the world. It is left to T’Challa and his allies to stop Killmonger and disrupt this plan. When the smoke clears, Killmonger dies from a battle wound, choosing to die free than be healed and be incarcerated. After the fighting, T’Challa chooses to open up Wakanda and offer Wakandan technology and support to the rest of the world, with a focus in Oakland where Killmonger was raised.

Within the plot, the film engaged with the global black freedom struggle in several different ways. Primarily however, it pitted two sides against one another (i.e. Oakland vs Wakanda, T’Challa vs Killmonger) and made an argument through the contrast. First, the stark contrast between how Oakland and Wakanda are portrayed serves as evidence for what Ryan Coogler, the director of the film, sees as ideal. Wakanda represents “Haiti” in the sense that it was a nation free from colonization and imperialism. The resulting success of the nation points to the inhibiting and exploitative nature of imperialism, specifically American imperialism. Coogler completely flips the idea of American exceptionalism on its head with the opening scenes of each locale. When Oakland is introduced, it seems hopeless. Children – the future hope of the generation – are out in the park at night playing basketball on a makeshift and dilapidated hoop, physically separated by a fence from seemingly everything else. On the other hand, Wakanda is first depicted as a beautiful place with lush greenery, splendor, wealth, and magnificent colors all in the bright aura of the sun. The stark contrast between the two locations demonstrates the two possible realities for black peoples in the context of Western imperialism – repression under its yoke and the prosperity that seemingly results from isolation from it.

Secondly, there are many scenes (especially the fight scenes) that juxtapose Killmonger and T’Challa and their competing philosophies and notions of the global black freedom struggle. The scenes with the two of them frequently set them up as equal and opposite. To me, the tension between Killmonger and T’Challa closely mirrors that of Malcolm X and Martin Luther King Jr. Throughout the film, Killmonger is fueled by anger over the murder of his father and the Wakandans’ inaction in suffering black peoples across the globe. As such, he seeks black separatism and self-actualization by arming the oppressed with Wakandan weaponry. On the other hand, T’Challa seeks peace and prosperity for the people under his reign. Although he starts in the black separatist camp in the beginning, he decides to bring the white injured CIA agent back to Wakanda to heal him and ultimately chooses to open up Wakanda to the world, which reflects an assimilationist attitude. Presently, American media tends to demonize Malcolm X and idolize Martin Luther King Jr. However, the film does a good job of demonstrating that both characters are justified in their decisions and ideologies. Both ultimately seek the wellbeing of those they believe are entrusted to them. For T’Challa, his interests lie primarily in the wellbeing of his people whereas Killmonger aches for the “2 billion people all over the world that looks like us” but have “harder” lives. Ultimately, the film sides with T’Challa and the peaceful assimilationist approach with his decision to open up Wakanda to the world. In that decision, however, one can see the effect Killmonger had on T’Challa in his final moments when T’Challa decides to open up an outreach center in Killmonger’s neighborhood.

Ultimately, the primary theme that takes precedent even over the battle between isolationism vs assimilation, nonviolence vs violence, etc. is the importance of global black solidarity. In a recent interview, Ryan Coogler, the director of the film, discusses a particular scene in which the three main characters of the scene are dressed in red, green, and black, the colors of the Pan-African flag. (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SNHc2PxY8lY) They then proceed to fight together successfully against the white supervillain in pursuit of vibranium. In addition to the allusion to Pan Africanism and its power, there is a moment of black solidarity and mutual understanding and respect between T’Challa and Killmonger in their final scene together. The moment is incredibly powerful because the two enemies come together and recognize that they are seeking analogous things and have a moment of mutual respect.

The film represents an incredible moment in contemporary black culture because it was truly empowering to so many black people across the globe to see themselves on the screen as wealthy, prosperous, attractive, powerful, and moral heroes and heroines.

The Second Pan-African Congress

March 27, 2019 / Roy Kim

I decided to use a Google Map (https://goo.gl/maps/m8MZoQdrJQn) to display the origins of all the attendees of the Second Pan-African Congress, which was held in London in 1921. I chose the Second Pan-African Congress over the ones that preceded it in 1900 and 1919 because to me, it demonstrated the largest moment yet of diasporic consciousness-making because it hosted what W.E.B Du Bois classified as “26 different groups of people of Negro descent.” In addition to the nearly all-encompassing nature of the conference in terms of hearing the voices of black peoples from different locales and different positions of statehood (i.e. still under imperial power, states, etc.), this pan-African congress also hosted several non-black, colored representatives from India, the Philippines, and Annam, representing the inception of a larger color consciousness. Thus, I felt that the Google Map and the breadth of origin it demonstrates was adequate in capturing the novelty and incredible impact the Second Pan-African Congress had.

To Leave or Not to Leave: Reflections on Present-day Emigration Movements

March 7, 2019 / Roy Kim

I would preface this op-ed with the fact that I am Asian-American and therefore have an innate inability to relate to and completely understand the experiences – good or bad – unique to people of African descent in the United States. That said, based on conjecture, the readings we’ve done so far in class, and present-day circumstances alone, I would advocate against any present-day emigration scheme to Africa on the grounds that a black or African diasporic consciousness cannot be assumed of all people of African descent, and that black nationalism is so inextricably linked to Western capitalism that even a physical displacement would not free black peoples from the shackles and pressures of the capitalist structure. Alternatively, I would advocate for the creation of black solidarity within the United States among the people in power (who are largely rich white men) through economic progress within the structure of capitalism.

Throughout the history of the nation, there have been several back to Africa emigration efforts. Most notably, the American Colonization Society, Marcus Garvey and the Black Star Line, and Martin R. Delany all led efforts to reverse the effects of the African diaspora and emigrate back to the homeland their ancestors had been dispersed from. Martin Delany and his ideologies especially stand out to me because of the fact that he was considered, by some, to be the father of black nationalism. Black nationalism and the idea of a color consciousness were the central foundations upon which many of the emigration movements were built. Thus, to people like Delany, African regeneration was only possible through the creation of a homogeneous and self-sufficient nation of morally exemplary (or Christian) and intelligent black people. This was problematic because of two reasons: one, the rhetoric of an African regeneration implies that the Africans weren’t self-sufficient in the first place and two, just as when the emigration debates were occurring in the late 1800s, black nationalism and a diasporic consciousness cannot be easily defined today. As Tiffany Ruby Patterson and Robin D.G. Kelley write in their work, “Unfinished Migrations: Reflections on the African Diaspora and the Making of the Modern World,” diaspora doesn’t just exist and is continuously reconstituted and recreated. In that sense, for many people of African descent, it appears to be a personal journey in which they develop or reject pan-Africanism or a black consciousness either on the realization that black people share the same timeless cultural values or that these values have manifested over time from life under racism and imperialism. Thus, any back to Africa movement would be in danger of suffering the two fates Delany fell into: either assuming the superiority of black Americans (or the inferiority of Africans) or simply failing to properly define and muster enough support for a black consciousness.

In addition to the reality that a black-conscious back to Africa movement is highly unlikely and perhaps dangerous due to the factors mentioned above, black nationalism is so inextricably linked to Western capitalism that even the physical displacement of an emigration movement would not free black peoples from the capitalist structure that is the basis of and the platform for a majority of their suffering both historically and today. In her work, “Nothing Matters but Color: Transnational Circuits, the Interwar Caribbean, and the Black International” in “From Toussaint to Tupac: The Black International Since the Age of Revolution,” Lara Putnam introduces the concept of ‘Africanization’ as a source of scapegoating people of African descent for a faltering economy in Haiti upon the revolution. This is a common practice, still manifesting in many ways today. Economic progress and everything it implies (literacy, moral standing, etc.), even for black American individuals, is tied to whiteness. Economic stagnation and everything associated with it is ‘Africanized’ and is used to scapegoat black people. This rhetoric was present with the mulattoes in Haiti desiring the privileges enjoyed by white people, it was present with Delany’s rhetoric, and it persists with the desire today to participate in “whitening” in both a cultural and economic sense, not only in black communities but in many other communities of color as well. Thus, because the entire basis of any sort of economic success is rooted in and heavily favors whiteness, even physical displacement would not impact an international reliance on the Western capitalist structure. Thus, I would advocate for a movement dedicated to building up black solidarity and a black consciousness within the capitalist structure. Put simply, play the white man’s game to build up power for black peoples until it is time to break free of the structure.

Joseph Louw and the Last Photograph of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.

February 21, 2019 / Roy Kim

History tends to forget the masses. In remembering past events, stories, and antecedents, we seek out the faces of inspiring leaders and monumental figures we can put on mountains and quickly associate with particular eras, ideologies, and groups. In doing so, however, we silence the stories and contributions of the ordinary person. For instance, the narrative of the black American civil rights movement of the 1950s and 1960s proudly proclaims the stories of Ella Baker, Rosa Parks, Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., and Malcolm X, while not completely acknowledging and exalting the efforts of the thousands who marched, boycotted, and otherwise supported and drove the civil rights effort to fruition.

Similarly, Joseph Louw, a South African photographer and a contemporary of these great historical figures, fell into the desire to capture these narratives. Upon graduating from Columbia University, he found work for the Public Broadcasting Laboratory (PBL), a television series created by the National Educational Television (NET). As a young photographer, he had the unique privilege of being asked to follow Dr. King to document images for a documentary PBL was creating about Dr. King. In addition to this once in a lifetime opportunity to interact with one of the great and influential leaders of all time, he was stationed with Dr. King and the Southern Christian Leadership Conference (SCLC) as they organized the Poor People’s Campaign. Louw was given a platform to interact and communicate with Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. about his past approach to gaining civil rights for black Americans as well as witness firsthand the initiation of the economic “chapter” of the fight for equality. While history books and many today see Dr. King’s message as a message of nonviolence and black equality, this part of his message is an interestingly relatively unknown final caveat, even preaching that this campaign was “the beginning of a new co-operation, understanding, and a determination by poor people of all colors and backgrounds to assert and win their right to a decent life and respect for their culture and dignity.”

Joseph Louw was there in the midst of it all. On April 4, 1968, the night of the assassination, he was in his motel room a few doors down from Dr. King’s. Having finished eating dinner early, he chose to watch a television broadcast, which was showing footage from Martin Luther King Jr’s “I’ve Been to the Mountaintop” speech from the day before, most notable for its call for pan-Africanism and his declaration that he was ready to die. See: https://www.americanrhetoric.com/speeches/mlkivebeentothemountaintop.htm Little did Louw know that that would be his final speech, a fitting end to the brave life of a great leader.

Just as the news broadcast ended, Louw heard a loud noise. He ran outside to the balcony to find chaos. Dr. King’s body was on the floor, four men kneeled and stood beside him, pointing at the direction of the assailant. Deeply impacted by the horrific scene in front of him, Louw later recounted that he could only think of the horror of the incident and the necessity of recording the incident with a photograph for the whole world to see. At that moment, he took the iconic photo and took several other photographs following the attack, including photos of armed policemen rushing to the scene, ambulance workers attending to the mortally wounded Dr. King, and grief-stricken civil rights workers in the aftermath of the assassination. See: https://www.icp.org/browse/archive/constituents/joseph-louw?all/all/all/all/0

Following the assassination, Louw went back to New York where PBL was based to develop his rolls of film. His photos soon became some of the most widely recognized and most powerful images captured of the civil rights movement. The media response was nearly immediate, with PBL airing the incomplete and unfinished documentary with Louw’s eyewitness testimony. See: https://www.thirteen.org/blog-post/mlk-assassination-the-story-behind-the-photo/

Louw’s contributions to history include the photographs he took, the media response to Dr. King’s assassination, as well as valuable insights on what it was like to be with Dr. King in his final days. To conclude, Louw nobly decided that any revenue from the photographs he took from the night of the assassination would be contributed to organizations whose missions aligned with the message and work of the late Dr. King.