Tag Archives: black girl magic

Freedom in Found Footage | Can I Get A Witness? Recap

“Every now and then you just need to be reminded of who you are in God.”

 

This week on Black Enough, Amaya is taken to church– in all senses of the expression. And as Amaya is being ministered to, so is the viewer. When she begins to dwell in the possibility of the words she is hearing in service, we see her world open up. This transformation is visually represented through found footage of Black folks from all walks of life dancing– Amaya’s love language. Not only is dancing Amaya’s love language, we have seen earlier in the series how this is God’s way of working through her and also her line of communication with Him.

This time, though, the experience is communal. The shots of joyful dancers may perhaps exist only in Amaya’s mental space, but she can share this moment of transformation with folks that are coming to be close to her. Even the found footage often shows dancers in community with others.

 

“One day we gone fly unchained like Django…”

Vitamin Cea’s original song, “Wings,” that works in concert with the stunning visuals and editing, includes this poignant line which addresses the community work implicit in reaching infinity. We may not all be able to fly like Riri Williams, but we can dance, and we find freedom in that practice together.

Amaya begins to take flight but is immediately grounded when she checks her phone and learns that an unarmed young Black man has been shot in Kansas City. Jaheem and Ember, who have accompanied Amaya to church, cover her and lean into each other as they learn to navigate flight in a world that would not just see them grounded, but lifeless.

Can I Get A Witness?” was right on time for me as I struggled with who I saw in the mirror. As someone obsessed with flight, the thought that I was so focused on what my body wasn’t, instead of what it is or can be, was uncharacteristic. Watching Amaya lean into the (im)possibility of her own body, feeling that dancing is as close to flying as we want it to be, helped me refocus my mind and realign myself with my body.

As much as this world we inhabit wants Black bodies to either be lifeless or exist in boxes and limitations, with easy access to us for exploitation, we find ways each and every day to be unchained. This episode reminded me of how I am inextricably linked with impossibility– I exist to do the impossible. We exist to do the impossible.

We laugh. We love. We dance.

 

Watson’s found footage exemplifies this. She found freedom in found footage and shared that joy with all of us.

 

 

Further Reading:

Island Possessed, Katherine Dunham

In Search of Our Mothers’ Gardens: Womanist Prose, Alice Walker

Riri Williams: Ironheart #1 (2018), Eve L. Ewing

Electric Arches, Eve L. Ewing

Ravynn K. Stringfield is a Ph.D. candidate in American Studies at William & Mary. Her research focuses on Black women and girls as creators and protagonists of futuristic, fantastic and digital narratives in new media. She often likes to say she writes about Black girls flying. When she’s not researching, you can find her writing for her blog, Black Girl Does Grad School; learning new yoga poses; or bullet journaling.

Spirituality, Dance and Magic | #BlackGirlMagicPotion Recap

This week’s episode of Black Enough, “#BlackGirlMagicPotion,” explored the relationship between dance, religion and/or spirituality, and magic. The magic of Black girlhood, we see in this episode, lies in your daydreams, in your deepest desires, in what your core essence is made of. And for Amaya, the expression of her very essence is dance.

This is made clear from the beginning of the episode, when a blaring alarm abruptly interrupts Amaya’s otherwise peaceful dream in which she dances alone in a studio. The interiority we see with Amaya is matched by a few shots of 16 mm film featuring a figure playing in substances that we might understand as physical manifestations of Black Girl Magic. The 16 mm scene provides an autobiographical, personal touch that is complemented by the vulnerability of the interview that overlays it.

The Amaya’s narrative then moves forward to her dorm room, where a conversation with Lena is put on pause by a knock on the door. Vaughn, the president of the BSU, and, Amaya’s BSU “Big Sis,” is there, encouraging Amaya to join the BSU. The scene cuts to a hilarious and cringe-worthy sequence of Amaya’s attempts at engaging in the representations of Blackness that she has seen throughout her life. She wriggles around her room, trying to milly rock, and trying out backwards baseball caps, before stumbling over saying “my nigga.” We feel her discomfort and our heart goes out to Amaya when she goes into evasive maneuvers to avoid the invitation.

But she does, in fact, have somewhere to be: church.

Although Amaya seems to understand, at least to some extent, that dancing constitutes the basis for her personal brand of magic, there is still some fracturing of identity that occurs. The religious part of her, the exterior, the diegetic narrative (or the narrative we follow in the storyworld of Black Enough), is depicted through the digital film. It is clear and bright, but we also know that there’s something deeper. This is when Amaya’s “spiritual practice,” her dancing, her rich inner life, begins to infiltrate the image of self that she puts forth to the world while she’s attending church.

She does what one is supposed to do to feel close to God: she goes to church, she prays, she reads her Bible. She’s religious in those moments, following a set of practices that inform her worship. However, when she’s dancing, she is more spiritual–it is the purest form of religiosity in some ways, more freeing. Her particular spirituality is an expression of her religious nature. This, dancing, is how she shows God she loves Him and how God is working through her. Dancing thus becomes a spiritual practice in that it is less about rules and guidelines and more about connectedness, more about feeling.

Circling back to Black Girl Magic and the potion Amaya is concocting on her mirror, I believe it is safe to say, though she likely does not include it on her list, that dancing is one of the ingredients in her potion. Part of the magic for some Black girls is this feeling of infiniteness when you know God loves you. As Elder Ntozake Shange once said, “I found God in myself and I loved her fiercely.”

There’s a spirituality surrounding Black Girl Magic, which I love to think about because it further points to its uniqueness. Everyone’s brand of Black Girl Magic Potion is tailor made to their specifications and unified only by the fact that we all have a bottle, no matter how different the contents. Religion sometimes implies that rules and order regulates worship–spirituality can be the freedom of expression of what you believe, the freedom to dictate and design your own love, in the same way that you brew your own personal brand of Black Girl Magic Potion. So for Amaya, dancing is the purest expression of her spirituality, and by extension, her magic.


Further Reading:

For Colored Girls Who Have Considered Suicide When The Rainbow Is Enuf, Ntozake Shange

Sassafrass, Cypress and Indigo, Ntozake Shange

Jezebel Unhinged: Loosing the Black Female Body in Religion and Culture, Tamura Lomax

 

Black Girl Does Not Do Grad School Alone

By Martina Lampkin

Having just finished my first semester of grad school, I find this to be the perfect time to reflect on the trials and tribulations, as well as the joys of working on an advanced degree. One thing that easily made a big impression on me was the surprise and delight of not being the only black girl in my classes.

So, a little bit of background: I am a software developer, and for every project I have been on at work, I have been the only black female developer. Because the school I’m attending has become more diverse, I knew I was not going to be the only black person in the Computer Science Master’s degree program. However, because of my past work experiences, I thought I was going to be the rare black girl in a program and field dominated by white and Asian men. As I sat in the classroom waiting for my professor to come into my first class of the semester, it looked like I was going to be the only black girl in the class.

It wouldn’t be the first time I was the only person of a specific demographic in my classes. In an undergraduate Programming Concepts class, I was one of two girls, and the only black girl. I never thought about being the only black girl in class because I wasn’t as socially aware at the time;I didn’t understand that there were privileges that I would not get in the tech industry. In a CompTIA certification class I was taking after completing my Bachelor’s degree, I was the only girl in the class. I started worrying at that point because I didn’t know that I was going to be the only girl in the class until the instructor told me after calling my name during roll call. Will the guys try to be sexist and say sexist things? Will I be made to feel unwelcome because I’m not a man?

At that moment, a black girl walked in. My expectations, that were formed from past experiences, were broken instantly shattered into a million pieces that blew away in the wind. The surprises didn’t stop there: Another black girl walked into the class. No longer was I the only black girl in the class, I was one of three. For my other class, I was also one of three black girls; the two aforementioned girls were in that class with me. Ah, the joys of core classes where you’ll see at least some of the same people in your classes during that semester.

Just like other people in the class, we complained about one of our classes, we talked about our professors, I even gave one girl notes from a class I had previously taken. So why are we seen as the “other” in tech when we are similar to the people who fit the majority?

It is so important for any black girl who wants to work in the tech industry to see other black girls learning with them, or working in the field. We can face the unique challenges of being the minority in the field together. It’s why I’m getting my Master’s degree in Computer Science; I want to be the representation that is desperately needed to break the status quo. I want a young black woman to see me at school or work and think “There’s someone like me. I can do this!” The only black women I would see at work had the stereotypical administrative roles. I questioned if I would ever see another black woman like me working a tech job, and I almost left the industry because of lack of representation.

While one of the black girls I met in my classes will be switching to a different tech-related program after this semester, it was still great walking through the start of grad school with her. I will miss having another black girl walk with me on this journey, but I know there are other black girls in the computer science program who will gladly walk together in the grad school journey.


Martina Lampkin HeadshotMartina Lampkin is a student at Towson University where she is working towards a Master’s degree in Computer Science with a concentration on Software Engineering. When she is not working or going to school, she can be found doing kickboxing, singing in her Unitarian Universalist church choir, or planning her 2020 wedding. Check out her blog where she records her journey in discovering who she is and finding her purpose in life at diaryofself.wordpress.com.