My Features, Your Fetish

I specifically remember him telling me he had never been with a black girl before, and that I ‘wasn’t like most black girls.’ He ended up using me for sexual pleasure, which I didn’t realize he was doing until after the summer had passed. He made me think we were in a relationship. I was the girl that took his virginity. Then school started again, and he stopped talking to me. -Tayana, 20

I first became aware of the white boy my junior year in high school. I had my first encounter with one who marveled at my blackness at age 18. Since then, it’s been a whirlwind of requests to pat my hair, comments on my dark skin tone, and hungry stares that pierce me as far as the Motherland. What seemed to me to be a new phenomenon has been a rampant form of degradation since before We were even brought over. The fetishization of the Black woman lives on not only in the experiences of myself and my Sisters, not simply in our popular culture, but has found its beginnings in our very history.

The Beginnings: A Saartjie “Sara” Baartman Story

The Human Freak Show

It began with her birth in 1789, on the landscape of—-what is now called—-Eastern Cape, South Africa. Sara Baartman, born on a colonial farm, belonged to the Khoikhoi tribe. The Khoikhoi were a nomadic people, hunting and gathering, living peaceably amongst one another until the arrival of the Dutch lead to an ongoing series of conquest and murder. With the death of her mother in her infancy, and the murder of her father, Sara was orphaned by the time she reached adolescence.

Now on her own, the young teen found companionship in the form of a Khoikhoi man whom she married and had a son with. Their son unfortunately did not survive long after birth. Left with no one else in her life but her husband, Baartman’s string of tragic losses reached its finale with his murder. Officially alone and with colonization on the rise, Sara was sold into slavery.

Sara was taken to Cape Town by her trader Pieter Willem Cesar, where she worked as a domestic servant to his brother Hendrik and received her name Sara (the diminutive of the Dutch name “Saartjie). There, she was contacted by William Dunlop, a ship surgeon and friend of the Cesar brothers, whose primary intent was to reap the most of Sara’s servitude. In October of 1810, the illiterate servant “signed” a contract with Dunlop and Cesar that would change her life and diminish her worth forever.

The alleged verbal agreements of Baartman’s contract stated that she would be taken over to London to continue her work as a domestic servant, perform as an entertainer, and even receive monetary compensation for her work. Soon after her arrival in London, however, Baartman would come to realize that her new hot job was a lot less humble than its description.

You see, like most Khoikhoi women, Baartman had very large breasts, even more massive buttocks (called steatopygia), and elongated genitals. This was very normal for her, yet a stark contrast from the European woman’s body. Around this time, Europeans had an almost obsessive speculation about Khoikhoi women. There had only been rumors in Europe of these women, but very few people had ever seen them for themselves. So when Dunlop and the Cesar had gotten themselves into some money troubles, they knew that Baartman could be their way to riches.

They marketed her as the “Hottentot Venus.” Under her new stage name, Sara performed in London’s Piccadilly Circus where she was exhibited as a freak-show attraction. Londoners, male and female, would come and watch the half-naked 21 year old crawl out of her cage and perform elaborate routines and dances for hours at a time. She’d often perform private shows for the more wealthy men and women, where they’d poke, touch, caress, and gawk at her body parts. Eventually, Sara’s human freak show acts would attract attention beyond her usual sexually ravenous, self-seeking spectators. With the Slave Trade Act of 1807 passing just a few years before Baartman had arrived in London, British abolitionists were following her story closely and with every intent of taking her traders to court. They succeeded, but all Sara got out of their attempt to end her glorified slavery was rights to slightly less degrading performance-wear, not freedom. Her career continued.

After the death of Dunlop, the reality of Baartman’s bondage proceeded to prove itself more true. In 1814, she was transported to France and sold to an animal trainer named S. Reaux. In his hands, she received the full circus animal treatment. Reaux would take her mostly naked body all around France, cage her, and display her next to a baby rhinoceros. She was even told to “sit” and “stand,” as a trained animal would.

This amusing showcase attracted men like George Cuvier, a naturalist who worked for the Museum of Natural History and was bent on studying Baartman’s body for science. Cuvier was convinced that Baartman was the final piece of the puzzle in his research. Baartman was given over to a plethora of anatomists and physiologists who, with Cuvier, “confirmed” his theory that the link between animals and humans was found in her.

After six years of having men degrade, exhibit, and trespass against her body, Baartman finally died at the age of 26, due to alcoholism, smallpox, or pneumonia. Though her cross-over should have been her shot at “peace,” not even death could release Baartman from her seemingly eternal bondage and humiliation. In the most literal sense, her lifeless body, which was taken and dissected by Cuvier, was preserved and contained in jars for display. Cuvier made a plaster cast of her body and kept her brain, genitalia and skeleton preserved. These remains of Baartman were taken to the Museum of Man for her body to be a subject of speculation and objectification forevermore.

My Body, Your Orient

I’ll stop writing poems about racism when white men no longer see me as an exotic conquest. -Shani Carrington, ‘Another Racism Poem’

Though nightmarish and upsetting, what happened to Sara Baartman is not a rarity. It is a result of colonialism and “Othering.”

Othering, a means of classifying groups or individuals who do not conform to the societal norms of the one classifying (the Self), was how the Western world did (and still does) life. In colonialism, othering served its purposes. It was the way by which Europeans would justify their harsh treatment of marginalized groups. Colonizers would come into foreign territory, wreak havoc on the land, murder a number of people, and keep and teach the rest. “The Other” in this scenario is then labeled as savage and uncivilized, and therefore is meant to be controlled and educated. The civilized, domesticated colonizer, on the other hand, is vindicated.

So when the sexually “unusual” Baartman was coaxed into a glamourous form of slavery, violated and ridiculed because of her body, worked until the point of death, and then bottled and conserved for public display, her traders, trainers, and perpetrators were justified because she was the Other.

Polish sociologist, Zygmunt Bauman writes in his book, Modernity and Ambivalence:

Woman is the other of man, animal is the other of human, stranger is the other of native, abnormality is the other of norm…

In Baartman’s case, and in the case of many African women like her, she was the all encompassing other——the woman, the animal, the stranger, the abnormality.

Theoretically, the Other cannot exist without the Self, and the Self relies on the existence of the Other. Othering is a means of self-identification for both groups. For the Self, othering is a means of establishing power and dominance. The Other, however only views him or herself through the lense of the Self.

In his 1978 book Orientalism, Edward Said, philosopher and literary critic at Columbia University, uses the theory of Self and Other to explain the relationship between the West (Europe) and the East (the Middle East, South and Southeast Asia, and North Africa). The West would often fetishize the East, making sweeping generalizations of the area with little to no prior knowledge. They “Othered” the East, or “the Orient.”

Essentially, the Orient was any unknown place that wasn’t the West. It signified all that was captivating and strange. In Said’s work, of course, it is Eastern culture. This process of othering would play a key role in how Western politics, philosophy, art, and media would portray the East——as rudimentary and weak.

Similarly, Africa was to Europe as the East was to the West. The Dark Continent, mysterious yet enticing, was Europe’s “Orient.” They knew little of the Motherland so they Othered it. By this, their men were made the standard of all that is cultivated and good, while the women of Africa were boiled down to being primeval sex incarnates—-there to be indulged in and inspected, but never respected.

Pop Culture Vulture

Now fast forward two centuries and not much has changed. From music, to television, to art—-for goodness’ sake—-the almost neurotic fascination with the Black woman (her physical attributes, her sexuality, her “exoticness”) is all too prominent.

Take Jean Paul Goude for example. The world-renowned French photographer is most noted, and most criticized, for his work with black women—-specifically with his former girlfriend Grace Jones. Most of his photographs depict black women, usually nude but clad in chicken grease (probably) and at least one carnival-esque ornament, striking unnatural poses. And with most of these prints following the same theme—-black shiny woman with leg up, black shiny woman with back bent, black shiny woman with breast out—-one could easily assume he is obsessed with the Black woman. But one doesn’t have to, because Goude already admitted it himself in his 1979 interview with People magazine:

From the moment he saw West Side Story and the Alvin Ailey dance troupe, he found himself captivated by ‘ethnic minorities—black girls, PRs. I had jungle fever.’ He now says, ‘Blacks are the premise of my work.’

This “jungle fever” of his shows itself very disturbingly in one of his most famous photographs of Jones growling in a cage (much like a jungle animal). The words on the cage read “Do not feed the animal.”

And if the comparison between a human being and a wild jungle specimen weren’t awful enough, Goude has got Jones posing on a stage with flashy curtains, indicating that her naked body is meant to be viewed. Again, we see the freak show concept of Baartman’s time rearing it’s objectifying head. And again, the concept of Self and Other shines through: Jones is very dark, Goude is not. Goude is enticed by Jones’ Blackness yet fails to understand it in relation to himself. Goude must make the distinction between himself and Jones to understand his own identity and assert his power. Goude deems Jones an animal and calls it art. A naive Jones allows it and calls it modeling.

It furthers the fantasy of Black women—-and Blacks in general—-being savage-like and makes us a point of sexual fascination. It tells the onlooker (most literally in the case of Jones’ photograph) that we are not to be viewed as individuals with any sort of value, but as animals. This is a twisted form of representation.

We often hold the idea that art is meant to be appreciated—-even art that is controversial. But there is a fine line between appreciation and fetishization. Whereas the Merriam-Webster definition of appreciation is the, “ability to understand the worth, quality, or importance of something,” fetishization is the act of making something an object of sexual fascination; placing an unrestrainable fixation upon something. Racial fetishization is just that, except the “something,” now becomes an ethnic group of people.

All Hail Queen Bey

This oversexualized portrayal of the Black woman in popular culture is not simply limited to photographic art, but is just as rampant among many of our most beloved figures. Take Beyonce, for example. The Black American singer/songwriter, record producer, and actress is one of the most influential and well-known pop culture figures in the world. She’s sold over 16 million albums in the US, 100 million worldwide, and has a net worth estimate of $450 million.

In 2013, she made the Time 100 list, and Australian film director, Baz Luhrmann wrote:

No one has that voice, no one moves the way she moves, no one can hold an audience the way she does . . . When Beyoncé does an album, when Beyoncé sings a song, when Beyoncé does anything, it’s an event, and it’s broadly influential.

Have you ever wondered why that is? What is it about Beyonce that makes her so much more influential than other talented Black female artists like Jennifer Hudson, Erykah Badu, or even her former Destiny’s Child groupmate, Kelly Rowland?

Beyonce has got the talent, for sure. But apart from her incredible voice, huge stage presence, and overall charm, why is she that much more popular with white America—even white males—than any of the previously mentioned Black females?

I’ve got a speculation, and it has everything to do with racial fetishization. Beyonce is Black, and white America loves that! They love her Black voice, they love her Black curves, they love her uncommon name. But unlike other Black females artists, Beyonce is just the right Black for America. She’s got all the entertainment purposes that America wants out of a Black woman, yet her light skin and long blonde hair keep her at just the right balance of Black and acceptable.

I think if she were a shade darker and her hair wasn’t golden blonde, she wouldn’t have the same appeal or influence as she does. -Summer, 20.

I’d love for these conclusions about our culture’s view of Black women to be far from reality, but history, society, and the personal experiences of Black women like myself has, sadly proven otherwise. As the Black teen actress and activist, Amandla Stenberg, put it, “Black features are beautiful. Black women are not.”

This Is Why Racial Fetishization Is Problematic

The remarks about my Afro-textured hair, the admiration of my ancestral physique, the comments on my dark skin all cease to become compliments once they are made points of fixation—especially in an age and a culture where I am otherwise hated for these things. It is often not the Black woman who is loved, but rather the things about her.

I think about that last sentence and I’m reminded of a time in my late teens when a white male pursued me with great persistence after he had come out of a relationship with his first one of Us. After that, I watched him chase after One just a shade lighter than me and then Another just a shade lighter than Her. Yet it wasn’t me, or the Second, or the Third that he was looking for. He simply wanted the experience. He wanted our Blackness.

We were his Orient.

In an age where a Black Nicki Minaj is celebrated in music videos for her booty and a Black Beyonce is worshipped in concert for her beauty, it is easy to turn a blind eye to the years of racial exploitation that got these women here, and mistake white America’s newfound obsession for love. But as the history of the Black woman tells, our bodies were never intended for love, but rather for selfish gain.

I do not need your acceptance to know that [I am beautiful]. I’m much more than my . . . ability to be romantic or sexual. I . . . a confident black women, I will sport my sexuality for myself. By myself for myself. -Rochelle Peterson, Cultural Foundations Professor, Arcadia University