The transatlantic trade of enslaved Africans worked to separate Blackness from whiteness on a foundational level, where white is ideal, and Black inferior, leading to the objectification of the Black body and its use as a tool rather than its acknowledgment as equal. The rapid spread of white colonialism resulted in what can be described as Black Consciousness, which has created a collective culture among Black populations, leading to modern social organizations and movements such as the Movimento Negro Unificado in Brazil and the Black Lives Matter movement in the United States. Black Consciousness can be defined as “‘an attitude of mind’ or ‘way of life’ of [B]lack people who believed in their potential and value as [B]lack people and saw the need for [B]lack people to work together for a holistic liberation” (Hadfield, 2017, p. 1). However, the transatlantic trade has also led to the unmarkedness associated with whiteness (and the opposite attributed to Blackness), which is noticeable in Brazilian and United States politics and racial discourse. The historic preoccupation with skin color rendering Blackness less-than has caused Black scholars, such as Zora Neale Hurston and Ralph Ellison, to deconstruct these arguments and to point out the reality that Black culture and Consciousness is art, and I argue that, despite the marginalization at the hands of the white person and attempted forced assimilation of Black communities into white cultural ideals, Black communities have adapted to create a powerful culture unlike that of any other.
A primary implication of the transatlantic trade of enslaved Africans was the identification of Black as negatively “other” and the concept of the “civilized” person. It created a dichotomy between the Black person and the white person, and equated Blackness with ignorance and oftentimes savagery. Examining colonialism and the African experience, in his book, The African Experience, Vincent Khapoya writes, “Europe justified its colonization of Africa on the grounds that it was its moral duty to ‘uplift’ Africans from their primitive state” (Khapoya, 2012, p. 106). On the same page, he states that “writings by Europeans who visited Africa before the actual colonization show views of individuals determined to look at Africa through their cultural prisms and conclude that Africans were backward and uncivilized” (Khapoya, 2012, p. 106). Considering this, it is not surprising that Europeans viewed Black people as nothing more than objects to use for profit.
The objectification of the Black body can easily be exemplified in the 1783 case of the Zong ship trial in Europe. In 1781, the ship left for Jamaica from the capital of Ghana, carrying 442 enslaved Africans (Bernard, 2011). Upon arrival, only 207 enslaved Africans were on board: the others, due to a lack of supplies following a navigation error, had been thrown overboard, and the owner of the ship pursued an insurance claim on the “lost cargo” (Bernard, 2011). To justify the transatlantic trade of enslaved Africans, Europeans also had to recognize Africans as subhuman. Therefore, when the case was presented to the court, it had no other option but to accept the insurance claim, because doing otherwise would have undermined the foundational argument that Africans were inherently less-than, and would have proved that enslaved people were not simply property.
Interestingly enough, during the first half of the eighteenth century when abolitionist movements were gaining momentum, “in the American colonies the Quakers denounced the immorality of the trade in their meetings and polemical tracts amidst the rising fear of many colonists that to continue to increase the number of slaves would lead to the ‘great danger’—slave rebellions” (Collins and Burns, 2014, p. 224). In other words, it was not that the Quakers viewed enslaved people as their equals and thus saw the trade as immoral, but rather it was that their property (whom they continued to view as subhuman) now posed a threat, and they worried that their livelihoods were at risk; it was only when their way of life was threatened, and when abolition served their own interests, that the Quakers decided to work toward uninstalling the trade from government functioning in North America.
As evidenced in modern culture, the trade and the subsequent marginalization of Black populations resulted in shared history and identity among the community to such a point that even people who are non-African American (with regard to the United States specifically) may be misidentified as African American. The sense of shared history and identity contributing to Black Consciousness has also resulted in modern social movements for equality, one of which being the incorporation of “Black” as a more inclusive term as opposed to “African American.” The term “Black” may act as a recognition of an ethnic identity in the United States, which may often be more accurate than “African American,” which could imply recent ties to the continent (Laws, 2020). “Black” is also inclusive of Caribbean and Central and South American Black populations, and this is critical because the same systems that have worked to disadvantage African Americans have disadvantaged other Black people who may have no association with Africa. On the same wavelength, it is also the reason why people have begun capitalizing Black, as with other ethnic identities: to capitalize Black is to acknowledge that slavery deliberately stripped people shipped overseas of their national ties.
It is important to recognize that Black people think of themselves as Black: it is difficult to think otherwise. White people, on the other hand, do not have the same kind of racial recognition regarding themselves: they are seen as raceless, unmarked. Unmarkedness is categorized as being seen as a default, taken for granted as “normal.” We see (or rather, do not see) unmarkedness functioning daily in Brazilian and United States institutions. Take, for example, Brazilian President Jair Bolsonaro’s statement regarding Indigenous people: “Cada vez mais, o índio é um ser humano igual a nós” (G1, 2020). Translated, Bolsonaro said: “Indians are increasingly becoming human like us.” In United States context, take Senate Minority Leader Mitch McConnell’s statement regarding Black voters: “African American voters are voting in just as high a percentage as Americans” (Bowden, 2022). In other words, as a byproduct of the unmarkedness of whiteness, and being that both Bolsonaro and McConnell are white, they have marked Indigeneity and Blackness as a kind of “other.” That being said, it is important to actively seek to recognize not only the ways in which unmarkedness functions in societal institutions, but also the ways in which this unmarkedness affects those who don’t belong within the bounds of this social construction. Likewise, it is critical to understand that the markedness versus unmarkedness construction has everything to do with skin color, and has heavy implications for Black Consciousness.
One such implication, though not a result of Black Consciousness, is the coining of Brazil as a racial democracy, which works to undermine Black thought. During the 1900s, Brazil was frequently described as this racial democracy, perhaps because of its prominent mixture of Indigenous Brazilians, Europeans, and Africans, and/or perhaps because of the fact that Brazil never put segregation into law (Andrews, 1996; Araujo, 2015). A consequence of propelling this myth of racial democracy (though certainly not the only one) is the enactment of ineffective and even inappropriate affirmative action policies. One example of this is found in a documentary titled Brazil in Black and White, which “follows the lives of five young college hopefuls from diverse backgrounds as they compete to win a coveted spot at the elite University of Brasilia, where 20 percent of the incoming freshmen must qualify as Afro-Brazilian” (PBS, 2011). The 2007 film revealed that, in order to determine Blackness, pictures of potential qualifying students would be taken, after which a panel would determine whether a student would be eligible for quota placement.
The flaws of such affirmative action systems can be represented by the case of two identical twins applying for the quota system at the university. In 2007, the mixed-race twins, when presented in front of what could essentially be considered a panel of judges, were categorized differently: one Black, and the other white. “This decision generated a heated debate around the value and practicability of having racial quotas in Brazil,” and it allowed for skeptics of affirmative action to question the viability of affirmative action policies (Lum, 2019). While objections to poorly-constructed and poorly-implemented affirmative action policies are valid, we must also consider whether such objection is influenced by the belief of the aforementioned racial democracy, and by the belief that there exists no racial inequality in Brazil, which is a consideration that should be carried not solely within Brazilian context.
Naturally, institutions resist advocacy for Black equality, and in Invisible Man, Ralph Ellison brings to light various nuances associated with combatting racism in the United States in particular. Ellison was an American novelist and scholar, and Invisible Man addresses many social issues faced by African Americans in the early 1900s. One particular scene which stuck out to me was when the main character’s grandfather said, “‘Live with your head in the lion’s mouth. I want you to overcome ‘em with yeses, undermine ‘em with grins, agree ‘em to death and destruction, let ‘em swoller you till they vomit or bust wide open’” (Ellison, 1995, p. 16). For context, the main character’s grandfather was set free from slavery, and said this on his deathbed. His words address the expectation of Black “citizens” to withstand peacefully the blows that United States institutions (those which are tasked with providing the basic needs of human life and rights) throw their way. If, in any capacity, one retaliates against said blow, then the retaliation becomes an unwarranted attack, and thus the Black person becomes a criminal, and the institution becomes a victim.
Take, for example, the destruction of a Target in Minneapolis at the height of the 2020 Black Lives Matter protests. Despite the Movement being characterized by its fight for justice in response to systemic racism plaguing the United States (think: police brutality, redlining, medical care, etc.), opposers to the Movement capitalized on the dismantling of one store (belonging to a multi-billion-dollar company) in order to spin the story that the protesters were instead “rioters,” “looters,” “mobs,” “criminals”—a phenomenon well-documented within civil rights movements (Ali, 2020). When juxtaposed with former President Donald Trump hailing the January 6 Capitol attackers as being "loving” and “great people” (Cohen, 2021), the differing attitudes when acknowledging Black populations versus white populations becomes evident on a hypervisible level. Despite this, however, we have white United States citizens and people in high-power positions (House members, Senate members, CEOs, etc.) claiming that race is not an issue.
An organization contributing to similar discourse as that of Black Lives Matter can be seen in the Brazilian political sphere, known as the Movimento Negro Unificado (MNU). The organization was founded in São Paulo in 1978, catalyzed by the killing of Robson Silveira de Luz by the police, and by the race-based expulsion of Black boys from a volleyball team (Covin, 1990). It was formed to challenge racial and class discrimination in Brazil, and it combatted police violence, oppression of Black women, and marginalization of gay populations (Encyclopedia.com, 2019). Though the region suffered and still suffers from racial inequality, MNU ironically managed to propose and help pass the recognition of November 20 as the National Day of Black Consciousness (Covin, 1990). Interestingly enough, because race is so ambiguous in Brazil, the standard for determining Blackness chosen by the MNU was appearance, and the organization may be considered “the most consistent, and perhaps the most effective, voice in changing Brazil’s public discourse on race during the last quarter of the twentieth century, and it has continued its work at the beginning of the twenty-first century” (Encyclopedia.com, 2019).
The collective thought among Black populations proves Black Consciousness to be a significant aspect of Brazilian and United States culture. It, however, continues to not be recognized by governments despite this significance. Recognizing whiteness as just as much of a construction as Blackness is an important step to recognizing how whiteness has been elevated by colonialism, which then becomes an important step to recognizing the ways in which national systems and policies are tailored to the white mind and the white body. Without said recognition, and without deconstructing the fallacy of racial superiority that has plagued and continues to plague institutions, it will continue to be easy to discount Black voices, which will ultimately prove itself detrimental to social, cultural, and economic success and sustainability.
References
Ali, S. S. (2020). ‘Not by accident’: False ‘thug’ narratives have long been used to discredit civil rights movements. NBC Universal.
Andrews, G. R. (1996). Brazilian racial democracy, 1900-90: An American counterpoint. Journal of Contemporary History, 31(3), 483-507.
Araujo, A. L. (2015). The mythology of racial democracy in Brazil. openDemocracy.
Bernard, I. (2011). The Zong Massacre (1781). BlackPast.
Bowden, J. (2022). Mitch McConnell sparks anger by saying Black Americans ‘are voting in just as high a percentage as Americans.’ Independent.
Cohen, D. (2021). Trump on Jan. 6 insurrection: ‘These were great people.’ Politico.
Collins, R. O., & Burns, J. M. (2014). The Atlantic slave trade. A History of Sub-Saharan Africa, 213-227
Covin, D. L. (1990). Ten years of a Brazilian Black-consciousness movement: The MNU, 1978-1988. Journal of Third World Studies, 7(2), 242-264.
Ellison, R. (1995). Invisible Man. Vintage Books.
Encyclopedia.com. (2019). Movimento Negro Unificado. Encyclopedia of African-American Culture and History.
G1. (2020). ‘Cada vez mais, o índio é um ser humano igual a nós’, diz Bolsonaro em transmissão nas redes sociais. Globo Comunicação e Participações.
Hadfield, L. A. (2017). Steve Biko and the Black Consciousness movement. Oxford Research Encyclopedia of African History.
History.com Editors. (2021). Zong slave ship trial. History.
Hurston, Z. N. (1934). Characteristics of negro expression. Negro Anthology, 24-31.
Khapoya, V. (2012). Colonialism and the African experience. The African Experience, 99-138
Laws, M. (2020). Why we capitalize ‘Black’ (and not ‘white’). Columbia Journalism Review.
Lum, K. (2019). Bolsonaro’s election threatens the future of Brazil’s quota law. Economic & Political Weekly.
PBS. (2011). Brazil in black and white. WQED Multimedia.
Luke Morales (he/him/his) is a senior pursuing a major in English Writing, a minor in Portuguese, a certificate in Latin American Studies, and a certificate in Children's Literature. He is highly active in university life, working as a Resident Assistant, Teaching Assistant, President for the Luso-Brazilian Student Association, and Vice President for the Fantasy Studies Fellowship. When writing nonfiction, Luke likes to write about things relating to literature; diversity, equity, and inclusion; and current events, with specific focus on race, gender, and sexualities. His favorite hobbies include reading, writing, and playing videogames. Post-graduation, he plans to pursue research covering gender and sexualities, working to contribute to contemporary and leading academia.