define: hegemony

hegemony [n] – the ideological manipulation of a subordinated group by a dominant ruling class whose intent is to convince the subordinated to view their domination as justifiable; the process by which the subaltern accept, internalize and enforce their alterity.


Shit. This is a big topic, and I’m of course not going to touch on all of the possible manifestations of hegemony, like kyriarchy, patriarchy and antiblackness, but what I want to do here is clarify a term which entered my vocabulary my junior year. I had seen the word hegemony or heard it in conversation, (reading it as he-guh-moan-ee)  but never really understood its significance until I read an essay (which at the time I barely understood) in which the term was for the first time brought into its Marxist context. The essay was written by Antonio Gramsci, commonly understood as one of the forefathers of Marxist cultural studies, and Gramsci discusses hegemony primarily from the cultural vantage, going so far as to call his conceptualization cultural hegemony. Hegemony is one of those words like neoliberalism, neocolonialism, and patriarchy which are thrown about a lot in academic discourse, be it in papers or in seminars, in ways which can detract us from its basest manifestations insofar that its application seems ubiquitous. The overarching theme in many of our lives, it’s easy to riff on hegemony without really basing it in our everyday experiences as scholars. I’ve found that the vantages in my discipline which are used to concretize hegemony (which is, talking about in books) nevertheless keep the concept removed and bound within the theoretical world of race, as opposed to its real-world analog. If I accomplish anything in this post, I hope to clarify and make the concept clearer for an audience who perhaps hasn’t read Gramsci or Althusser, primarily through a study of what one of my primary research questions; the importance of ideologies in our lives.

In part, this post is also a definition of ideology, for we can’t really understand cultural hegemony without first exploring the mechanism through which hegemony functions. Rather than give a definition, let’s start with a story.

When I was young, I had a bunch of white friends. It was part of the experience of being in higher level classes in a school district which enacted its apartheid regime based on “intellectual capacity” that I only had white friends until I began to realize, at some point in high school, that I was not in fact white and that I enjoyed my Black friends’ presence a bit more than my white friends, although they weren’t in any way bad or, worse, racist (!) people. It was also a hassle to get my mother to let me go anywhere in middle school. I would have to call and beg for her to let me stay out in town longer than usual, and going to my friends’ houses was essentially a teeth-pulling fit every single time. I didn’t understand why my mother was like this until recently, when I began to reflect on what it meant to be a Black kid in a rather White suburb, and the discourses which parents transmit to their children in ways which are not directly legible. My mother would tell me every time she’d reluctantly acquiesce to letting me go to this or that friend’s house that I should “be good” and respectful and “never bring shame to the family name.” I thought this was kind of a medieval thing to say, conjuring up images of honor and chivalry, and I’d shrug it off. I didn’t really know how I could bring shame to the Lee family name, because everyone’s parents naturally loved me. I was a friendly, bright, funny and respectful young chap, but I was black. This was a realization I never really internalized, for my mother never really said it, but she knew that white parents would interact with me differently because of my blackness. They switched on a certain lens when interacting with me, be it conscious or not, and as a 11-year-old, I wasn’t aware of the switch. I had to constantly negotiate the fact that I was being interacted with through the veil of my blackness, through the concepts and notions which constitute a cultural ideology about what it means to be a Black person. This is perhaps my first introduction to the Gaze that everyone riffs on in critical theory; the concept that my otherness is visible and mapped onto my body, and that anyone interacting with me will perceive and inevitably act on notions which constitute the image which my visibility invokes. As a ten-year-old bourgeois black boy, I had never experienced marginalization outside of being picked on for being fat, which I inevitably internalized. This is hegemony, in a way, but a subject for another time.

One of my mother’s admonishments was: “Don’t eat at other people’s houses. There’s food at home.” I didn’t know what this meant, but I assumed at the time, comically, that it was because, in my family’s imagination, white people didn’t know how to cook. At the same time, there are tropes about white cleanliness in the Black community, too, which put me off from eating at their houses. So for the most part, I hesitated, but indulged from time to time. Yet, in retrospect, she told me not to eat at white people’s houses because they would think I either don’t have manners because of the way I eat, or that I don’t eat at home, two concepts which are rooted not in my general comportment, but in the specificity of my being a Black person. She was afraid they would map these rather stupid ideas onto me and mistreat me, and actively taught me to avoid such pigeonholing by curbing what would otherwise be “authentic” behavior. If I was hungry, I should eat, but because I was in the company of white people who may think that Black people don’t get enough to eat, or don’t eat well, or don’t eat exotic foods like lasagna, I needed to bend my behavior in order to spare myself the scrutiny and marginalization which would disillusion me and make me cognizant of the ramifications of my birth condition as an Other. That’s heavy shit, but it’s also something that many Black kids experience, particularly those who must exist in white space and occupy the position of the Other.

This is hegemony; the education of self-minimization to Black children, the transmissions of lessons which dictate that one’s natural behaviors, which may or may not be the product of one’s race, nevertheless inflect on others a reason to actualize and accept a preconceived notion of an entire group of people; that one must curb one’s natural tendencies in the presence of White people lest they corroborate a negative image of the collective Other which one represents. It’s teaching young girls to cover their bodies to keep the nasty boys from getting distracted by their bare shoulders and erotic knees. It is a remedy to a symptom of a greater issue, for the issue is not the Black mother or the father of teenage young girls, but those marginalize their children. It is so much harder to say to White people “maybe a Black kid is just hungry, and not hungry because he’s Black,” for a Black parent can’t speak to every White person their child will interact with. The easiest thing to do is to teach that child to bend and conform; and thus a hegemonic discourse is produced, internalized; it becomes an heirloom, transmitted across generations.

Hegemony interacts with ideology by responding to dominant narratives of the Self and the Other. These words, and the English language, aren’t discursive or expressive enough to really express what I’m talking about, but the Self in this case, sometimes also referred to as the Nation, is the conceptualization of the default person whose qualities therefore determine the existence and categorization of all else; the Others. Ideologies are best described as the assemblage of values, images, discourses and ideas which constitute a/the collective perspective of a people. It’s hard to distinguish an ideology from another, and for the most part, I view ideologies as rhizomic systems (from Deleuze and Guattari; something which has no central point of departure or arrival, and builds around a central core for which there is no fixed locus) as opposed to arborescent ones (something that has a root from which all else branches). When we think of race, for example, as an ideological system, we have no point to dictate the origins of the concept, for concepts rarely work this way. Even ideas which are coined, like intersectionality, are not necessarily new concepts, insofar that Black women have been riffing on the idea of intersectional feminism since at the very latest the 19th century.

I could get really heady, bringing in Althusser and de Certeau and Lefebvre to talk about how ideologies are manifest in physical space and in society, but this is a brief sketch. I wanted to really just tell this story, because my mother read my fellowship bio and noted that she didn’t understand what hegemony meant, despite me knowing damn well that she has experienced and internalized hegemonic discourses throughout her life, particularly when it was time to raise 4 young black kids in a New Jersey suburb. While I think it’s good to have other ways of talking about things, and that words like hegemony and discourse can raise more questions than they answer, I nevertheless remain open to the ambiguity of these words, and find that in their flexibility they can better speak to a system of conditions and experiences, as opposed to particulars which remain abstract and difficult to define.

define: african-american

African-American [n/adj] – an ethnic group of Americans (citizens or residents of the United States) who are the descendants of enslaved Africans.

This will likely be the most controversial post in the define series, likely because there is no real consensus as to how the term African-American should be used. Depending on who you talk to and when you talk to them, the term is either readily used as an umbrella for Black people in the New World, which I will attempt to prove prejudicial, or that the term is a politically correct way of referring to Black people, which is also, in a way, incorrect. A search on Wiktionary will reveal that the word African-American is typically used to refer to people who are 1) American and black 2) Black 3) Black American, all of which ignore the history which slavery has played in creating our experience and solidifying our unique ethnic identity.

I was against the term African-American when I was younger because I saw something in that word to which I could not connect — Africa. To me, Africa was a mythical place, like Aztlan, from which my ancestors were pulled by the millions in order to cross the edge of the world to work on plantations in North and South Carolina. Africa, like most Americans believed, was a continent of wilderness and alleged savagery and I was pushed away from the concept, seeing my Americanness somehow as being a more reformed — perhaps even evolved — form of that which my ancestors once were. I used the word Black because of the political implications of such a word. It means ugly, hated, sickly and rotten; how apt a word to describe our condition as what seems to be the world’s most detested, mocked, and imitated people?

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