A Monk who doesn't acknowledge Sanyasa and his concept of Consciousness

After finishing my interview with a young Hindu monk from Uttar Pradesh at Yogi Ramsuratkumar Ashram, I saw Palaniyappan again near the Ramanashramam turn, chain-smoking in his saffron robe. Although the interview was insightful, I won't be able to use it in my thesis because the monk refused permission to mention his name, believing that nothing of his reference should remain in this world once he is gone.  Out of respect for his idealism, I decided to share it here for what it's worth (otherwise, It wouldn't have been possible still under thesis guidelines, which prevent me from disclosing research details publicly before concluding the research) and also share the story of another intriguing character, Palaniyappan.

Let's refer to the monk as Swami. Swami was born and raised in a village near Allahabad. After completing his MPhil in Physics from Allahabad University, he pursued another Master's in Philosophy from the same institution. A life-changing event occurred during this period—a chance encounter with a young Hindu woman monk from France, a scholar of Asian philosophical traditions. At that time, Swami was filled with aspirations to make a mark in the world, and he found it shocking that this highly educated, young, and beautiful woman from another culture was abandoning all bodily comforts and pleasures to seek a meaningful life in a foreign tradition.

After several conversations with her, Swami was deeply moved. He packed his bags and followed her wherever she went for the next two years. Both travelled lightly, each with just a single cloth shoulder bag, and she carried her passport and visa. Together, they journeyed across India, meeting saints, gurus, and spiritual leaders. She worked on her book while Swami awakened to a new wisdom he had never known before. By the time she returned to her country, Swami had undergone a complete transformation into a Hindu monk.

I met him at Sheshadri Swami Ashram, sitting outside his room on the same cement bench as me. I was immersed in my observational drawings, jotting down notes as usual. Beside me lay a half-finished copy of Ways of Walking: Ethnography and Practice on Foot, edited by Tim Ingold and Lee Vergunst. After a while, he asked if he could look through the book. I agreed, and as I continued with my notes and sketches, I noticed that he had read more than I had managed in the next two hours in an entire week.

While preparing to return to my room, he asked if he could borrow the book after I finished reading it. He even offered to bring it back and hand it wherever I wanted. I told him it was a university library book and also quite expensive.

We finally agreed to meet this morning at Yogi Ramsuratkumar's Ashram, with the understanding that he would share his thoughts on the book. Unfortunately, his decision to remain anonymous ruled out that possibility. Below is the transcript of our conversation.

Conversation:

Swami: "Since we've agreed that you won't use my name or refer to me anywhere, let's begin our conversation."

Me: "Okay. How old are you?"

Swami: "I'm 35."

Me: "Why did you become a Sanyasi?"

Swami: "No, I didn't 'become' a Sanyasi. In fact, I didn't become anything. I'm still the same person. What changed is my perception of life."

Me: "Can you elaborate on what you mean by perception?"

Swami: "Theoretically, perception can be approached as either an objective exploration or a subjective inquiry."

Me: "I'm still unclear."

Swami: "Let me simplify it. One can live life with ideas and aspirations, working toward them in a controlled, goal-oriented manner—that's the objective approach. The other is to let life flow through you, allowing experiences to shape your journey. You no longer control your life; instead, you're like a wave in the ocean, inseparable from the sea. Many spiritual teachings glorify this as an enlightened state, particularly in religion. But philosophically, both approaches—objective and subjective—are essentially the same. They differ only in our perception. In Advaita, this confusion is referred to as Maya. To illustrate this, Shankara used the famous analogy of mistaking a rope for a snake."Me: "Why do you say it's allegorical? Shankara's entire philosophy of Advaita, especially against Nagarjuna's 'dependent origination' and 'Shunyata Vada,' hinges on this concept."

(He fell silent for a few moments.)

Swami: "You promised this conversation would only last 30 minutes, so let's avoid delving into philosophical debates. Let me clarify my earlier statement: I didn't become a monk; I changed my perception. To truly become a Sanyasi, one must transcend this confusion. You can have goals and subjective experiences, but a Sanyasi is someone liberated from the need to control them. They're free from both objectivity and subjectivity."

Me: "Can you explain that a bit more?"

Swami: "Think of a river. People expect it to flow toward the ocean, but the river doesn't choose that. Gravity pulls it to the lowest point. Along the way, the river carves its path, gathers water, and creates subjective experiences. But its 'goal' of reaching the ocean is simply gravity at work.

"Now, consider that rivers and oceans are both just water. So why do we differentiate between them? One flows through land, driven by gravity, and is called a river; the other remains a body of water held by gravity and called the sea. It's all the same force acting on water. Similarly, death is like the ocean—where life is ultimately headed, propelled by time. Life is like a river, full of experiences, but both are part of the same flow. Once you understand this, you see that a Sanyasi isn't separate from the material world. Except for their understanding of what drives change—whether they call it time, God, or universal consciousness—a Sanyasi is like everyone else. Ignore those who roam in saffron robes—they're often just trying to survive. A true Sanyasi understands this truth about life and remains detached from objective and subjective experiences while still living them."

Me: "Thank you for your time and this insightful conversation on life, perception, God, time, and consciousness. Will we meet again? How can I contact you if I need to?"

Swami: "There's no need. We're done. We had this interaction because of the book, and now that's over. You're free, and I'm free."

I thanked him and left the ashram, reflecting on our discussion. As I left, I noticed Palaniappan waiting for me, wearing the same saffron robe that our friend Swamy wore and pretending to be a Sadhu, as usual, for the 20 rupees I give him each day. He's not an evil man—just another character navigating this world. He was born into a life of poverty, and I was fortunate enough to be born into slightly better circumstances. Palaniappan and the Swamy had the same looks, and if I had not had the conversation, they both would have been beggars to me.

As Swami mentioned, we realize we are all part of the same consciousness when we shift our perspective. Some of us are like raindrops, while others become pools, streams, rivers, or oceans—depending on where we find ourselves or how we position ourselves in the flow of life in time.

Devote Hindu Gandhi is a construct of our own design, a tailored myth.

Two subjects have been a constant source of contemplation and frustration throughout my fading recollections: God and Gandhi. Both have profoundly influenced my life, and much of my journey has revolved around exploring these ideas. Every time I believe I have found clarity, new questions arise, as both embody humanity's most enduring inquiries: "Who am I?"

I have no significant accomplishments to my name. I am not wealthy, well-known, or professionally successful. I hold no prestigious titles, nor have I published works or impacted society in any measurable way. I have not transformed into what is considered a successful or an exceptional human being. My only achievement has been my refusal to embrace conventional views of life, success, or popularity. I remain intensely private and ordinary. Yet, these ideas—God and Gandhi, two mainstream subjects—have disrupted my otherwise quiet life, persistently pulling me toward self-exploration.

The complexity between these two lies in their duality as both faith and belief. They simultaneously uphold and defy logic, existing in a space that cannot be proved right or wrong. Leaving aside God for a moment, let's focus on Gandhi.

Gandhi claimed to be a devout Hindu, yet he rarely visited temples or engaged in traditional Hindu rituals like pooja or yagna. His philosophy aligned with pluralistic Vaishnavism, which diverges from the monotheistic Shaivism many Hindus follow. Still, he advocated for unity with God for all. Gandhi frequently discussed Dharma yet promoted "Satya" (truth) as life's true objective, a post-Dharmic concept in Vedic philosophy. He viewed sacrifice as the path to truth but never relinquished his power to persuade others toward his goals. In fact, Gandhi maintained his beliefs throughout his life while sacrificing everything material. His life is filled with complexities and controversies, illustrating his political negotiation between material and spiritual sacrifices.

In this country's history, religion has been intertwined with a political struggle between material and spiritual power. One group draws power from material wealth and sacrifices, while another rejects materialism, deriving power from spiritual austerity. Despite these contradictions, both factions assert their beliefs as morally and ethically superior. In essence, Hinduism has been a battleground for these competing ideologies.

All religions originating in India have been influenced by this power struggle. Jainism emerged to resolve it, only to split along the same lines. Buddhism introduced the middle path to address the issue, while the Ajivikas accepted defeat as "fate." Hinduism attempted to solve this through principles like Rita, Dharma, Satya, and Tatya, but when that failed, it embraced the Ajivikas' fatalism, leading to the rise of the Bhakti movement. These religions also created philosophical schools and epics like the Ramayana and Mahabharata to explore this conflict between materialism and its rejection.

This power struggle has persisted for centuries, with both sides vying for dominance through patronage. Gandhi likely recognized this dynamic and incorporated elements from both sides into his "experiments."

In "My Experiments with Truth," Gandhi stated he wouldn't accept beliefs without empirical proof. Though he claimed to be a devout Hindu, he was among the first leaders to challenge the Vedas and scriptures for tangible results. He subjected Hinduism's principles to real-world experimentation, much like a modern artist pushing boundaries and questioning religious conformity.(including  his sexual experiments and reinterpretation of religious tenets.)

Although he identified as a Hindu, Gandhi adopted the Buddhist middle path to challenge Hinduism's ritualistic and materialistic elements, which he saw as disconnected from the lives of ordinary people. He also embraced Bhakti, rejecting ritualism and Vedantic ideology to innovate a new path of devotion. Gandhi continuously redefined Hinduism through his experiments as a practical way of life.

At the beginning of this text, it was mentioned that Gandhi, like God, is complex, walking a delicate path between conservatism and pragmatism, experimenting with life to create something new while presenting it as ancient.

As an experimenter, Gandhi faced criticism from traditionalists for deviating from rituals and theoretical norms. Yet, Gandhi offered dignity and validation for those who struggled with materialism and spiritualism. He assured that neither wealth nor poverty diminished a person's worth in a spiritual world. This reflects the essence of the Indian way of life, which has consistently challenged dominant discourses through innovation, leadership, and experimentation. Gandhi's approach threatened both ritualists and theorists, who couldn't accept that their views might be subject to experimentation or displacement. So, they killed Gandhi.

Mahatma Gandhi was not a devout religious Hindu in the conventional sense but an experimenter and pragmatist. He left behind a legacy of failed experiments and successful innovations, which can be continued or tested further. This leaves ordinary artists like me haunted by his experiments.

Memory of visceral inscription, carved with emotions

 

Memory of visceral inscription 

 carved with emotions

by

Narendra Raghunath

"at once old and new: whose wounds can be preserved, exhibited, and remembered in the public domain?" - Ravinder Kaur (Tariq Syma:2023)

 

Abstract: This academic essay endeavours to investigate the queer body's function as a performative platform, accommodating its nuanced interplay of vulnerabilities and resistance in the quest for dignified space. This exploration aims to demonstrate that in the 21st century, the body transcends mere humanity, emerging as a complex artwork embodying historical lineage and theoretical underpinnings.

 

Keywords: Queer body, Feminism, performance, dignity, art,  iconography

1

We are devoid of a scroll to inscribe

The saga of conquests and crises,

For leisurely or mournful perusal.

All that's ours are this fleshy shell,

Marked by the scars of the journey,

Obscured beneath layers of modest cultural camouflage.

 

2

They say a Black is also human, I've heard.

So, I've marked it down in my refined sensibility,

A cue to recall

When reencountering a black.

"A black is a human."

 

3

A man without pretension

often embodies the covert display of patriarchy.

Yet, the queer individual,

unadorned by pretence,

frequently find their privilege of dignity

 overlooked and ignored in patriarchy!

 

4

Ravinder Kaur asks

"at once old and new: whose wounds can be

preserved,

exhibited,

and

remembered in the public domain? (7)

 

5

By the museum entrance,

a plaque declares:

Memory of visceral inscriptions

carved with emotions.

 

On a wintry afternoon in 2009, my late companion Hansi Dabi and I were deeply engrossed in the setup of our performance art showcase at Cept University. Within this exhibition, we meticulously arranged a pristine white cube as our stage, where we intended to sit behind a closed door amidst an array of charred books spanning diverse subjects. The subsequent day, we chose to remain silent and obscured from view, embodying a cloth installation. (image -1)

 

The genesis of our performance was sparked by the then Chief Minister of Gujarat's proclamation, suggesting that one could discern a rioter based on their attire—a sentiment he reaffirmed in 2019. This Islamophobic stance emerged amidst the ascent of oppressive Hindutva leadership, which had begun to overshadow the visibility of the body, framing it within the confines of majoritarian political hegemony.

 

(Performance art installation by the author and late Ar. Hansil Dabi: BURN DOORS, 2009, Ahmedabad) - Image 1

 

In response to these prevailing circumstances, our performance sought to delve into the experiences of the marginalized. Enveloped in Khadi clothes, we deliberately obscured our bodies and gender, challenging viewers to confront the erasure of identity imposed by societal constructs. There was also another layer to this act, as my friend was also a closeted victim of homophobia. 

 

We found ourselves grappling with the very questions Syma Tariq explored in her essay, referencing Ravinder Kaur (Tariq Syma: 2023), who posed the query: "at once old and new: whose wounds can be preserved, exhibited, and remembered in the public domain?"

(In Rebellious Silence (1994), Neshat reveals competing themes of vulnerability and aggression) - Image 2

 

This question is of notable importance, illustrated by Shirin Neshat's 1994 series "Women of Allah" (Image -2), where she delves into the challenges faced by women's bodies oppressed under Islamic majoritarianism. Similarly, a liberal majority France  banned burqas in public spaces in 2011 (BBC: 2011/23). Over time, the hegemony of majoritarianism has consistently employed a universal structural approach concerning the body and its rights.

 

Audre Lorde eloquently elucidated this hegemony in her essay titled “The master’s tools will never dismantle the master’s house.” She was advocating for marginalized Black queer women within dominant patriarchal structures, articulating the inherent limitations of using the tools of the oppressor to achieve liberation. “ Those of us who stand outside the circle of this society's definition of acceptable women; those of us who have been forged in the crucibles of difference; those of us who are poor, who are lesbians, who are black, who are older, know that survival is not an academic skill. It is learning how to stand alone, unpopular, and sometimes reviled, as well as how to make common cause with those others identified as outside the structures in order to define and seek a world in which we can all flourish. It is learning how to take our differences and make them strengths. For the master's tools will never dismantle the master's house. They may allow us temporarily to beat him at his own game, but they will never enable us to bring about genuine change. And this fact only threatens those Women who still define the master's house as their only source of support.” (Lorde Audre:2007) .

(Cut Pieces, Performance art by artist Yoko Ono,  Yamaichi Concert Hall in Kyoto, Japan, 1964) - Image 3

 

In her iconic feminist performance "Cut Piece," artist Yoko Ono provided a revealing glimpse into the manifestation of this hegemony in our society. Held in 1964 at the Yamaichi Concert Hall in Kyoto, Japan, this performance saw Ono seated silently on the dais before an esteemed audience of elite liberals(image . She invited attendees to approach her and cut pieces from her dress. The eager crowd, embodying the overactive sensibilities of the elite socio-political and cultural community, had no hesitation in dismantling her dress and leaving the artist exposed before the entire audience. (Gotthardt Alexxa: 2019). 

 

Yoko Ono highlights a crucial observation: while post-war avant-garde societies may have adopted the trappings of liberalism, the underlying structural behaviour, especially concerning the treatment of women's bodies within the institution of majoritarian patriarchy, remains essentially unchanged. As Audre Lorde poignantly notes “They may allow us temporarily to beat him at his own game, but they will never enable us to bring about genuine change” (Lorde Audre:2007). Society persists in perpetuating hegemonic discourse, maintaining the status quo despite surface-level adaptations.

 

In her essay "Queer Phenomenology: Orientations, Objects, Others," Sara Ahmed offers us an insight into the concept of the "body," as exemplified in Yoko Ono's performance. She argues “ The body provides us with a perspective: the body is "here" as a point from which we begin, and from which the world unfolds, as being both more and less over there. The "here" of the body does not simply refer to the body, but to "where" the body dwells. The "here" of bodily dwelling is thus what takes the body outside of itself, as it is affected and shaped by its surroundings: the skin that seems to contain the body is also where the atmosphere creates an impression; just think of goosebumps, textures on the skin surface, as body traces of the coldness of the air. Bodies may become orientated in this responsiveness to the world around them, given this capacity to be affected. In turn, given the history of such responses, which accumulate as impressions on the skin, bodies do not dwell in spaces that are exterior but rather are shaped by their dwellings and take shape by dwelling.” (Ahmed Sara:2006)

 

In Yoko Ono's performance, even within a supposedly liberal avant-garde audience, the prevailing hegemonic cultural power dynamics overshadowed their perception. As pointed out in her essay, they failed to recognize that "bodies are not merely situated in external spaces but are profoundly influenced by their surroundings and, in turn, shape them." (Ahmed Sara:2006). The oversight to recognize this fundamental humanitarian sensibility led them to strip the woman without genuinely seeing her.

 

Tracey Emin, a prominent British artist associated with the YBA (Young British Artists) movement, extends this argument to a new level of complexity in her work "Everyone I Have Ever Slept With 1963–1995." Created in 1995, this artwork features a tent adorned with the names of all the individuals Emin slept with between 1963 and 1995 (Image 4). Using the appliqué method, she stitched the names onto the tent wall, encompassing family members, friends, lovers, and others in her intimate narrative. In this piece, tragically destroyed in a warehouse fire, the artist compelled viewers to step inside the tent to confront these names, effectively displacing the artist's body and prompting viewers to insert themselves into the narrative. Unlike the performance of Yoko Ono, viewers as active participants do not deal with the female body as an object to unleash their hegemonic perspectives; in Tracey Emin’s “Tent”, they encounter the female body as a subject that shatters their hegemonic authorship of female body in a conservative society. 

 

The artist purposefully selected the title to lampoon conservative social norms fixated on categorising gender relationships solely by sexual desire. In his essay featured by Tate, Neil Brown cites the artist, elucidating the significance behind the 102 names depicted within her tent: “Some I'd had a shag with in bed or against a wall; some I had just slept with, like my grandma. I used to lay in her bed and hold her hand. We used to listen to the radio together and nod off to sleep. You don't do that with someone you don't love and don't care about”. (Brown, Neil (2006). Tracey Emin.)

 

Though unlike other women artists in the YBA group, Tracey Emin wasn't initially considered a feminist in her approach and artworks, nor had she explicitly directed her artistic stance towards patriarchy. However, as elucidated by Gail Omvedt in her essay "Patriarchy: The Analysis of Women’s Oppression," The basic value of the term patriarchy and the importance of its use by women is that it denotes a structural system of male domination. In doing so, it contrasts with the ways of looking at women in both the academic social sciences (which may be said to represent bourgeois ideology) and in the traditional left movement. It opposes the traditional left movement which has used terms like male chauvinism; because it asserts that the significant fact is not a secondary, psychological fact such as chauvinism, but rather the systematic base of that chauvinism which is material and structural. It also opposes older sociological concepts of sex roles because it insists there are not merely differences between men and women, but contradictions and structures of exploitation and oppression.” (Gail Omvedt,1986). This feminist perspective suggests that Emin indeed took a feminist stance on female gender and sexuality against patriarchy. But unlike in Yoko Ono’s performance, the female body is no longer an object of contention; on the contrary, in Tracey Emin’s work, the female body is redeemed from the emancipated custodial decorum of 'personal and public' ownership or authorship in a patriarchal society.  In this work, she not only challenged the conservative patriarchal concept of "modesty," which confines female bodies but also transcended the notion of "sexuality" as something hidden or restricted. Instead, she converted it into a satirical expression utilising textual elements and artefacts, enabling viewers to embark on a journey through her life into the "social privacy" of her body—a space often designated as the fortress of conservative modesty by patriarchy.

 

    

Everyone I Have Ever Slept With 1963–1995 by Tracey Emin (1995). 

Copyright: Charles Saatchi (image 4)

However, Tracey Emin did not belong to the society and era that resorted to intolerantly spitting on a photograph of a man dressed in drag by Diane Arbus when exhibited at MOMA in 1960(image -5). It's reported that museum staff had to repeatedly clean spit from the frame throughout the exhibition. (NGA:2002). On the contrary, Tracey Emin swiftly rose to celebrity status. Her work became an iconic feminist representation alongside other stalwarts like Sarah Lucas from the YBA, because by the time she ventured into the realm of art to dismantle patriarchal social conservatism, the art world was already brimming with a plethora of feminist works that had managed to unsettle its very foundations. 

 

Diane Arbus, A Young Man in Curlers at Home on West 20th Street, N.Y.C., 1966, gelatin silver print, 

Gift of the Collectors Committee, National Gallery of Art. - (Image -5)

In the Western world, during the second wave of feminism, known as Radical Feminism, which emerged alongside the 1960s Civil Rights Movement in the USA, sexuality became a central focus of anti-patriarchal gender theorization. In her essay "Patriarchy: The Analysis of Women's Oppression," Gail Omvedt quotes Radical Feminist theorist Catherine MacKinnon, stating, "Radical feminist theorizing has opened up a whole new world of sexual, psychological, ideological and economic male dominance as a social reality. Theorists like Millett, Firestone, and MacKinnon, along with the entire movement, have highlighted the pervasiveness of sexual domination and the role of force and male violence as a major socio-historical reality" (Omvedt, 1986). Omvedt further emphasizes this by quoting MacKinnon again: "Sexuality is to feminism what work is to Marxism" (Omvedt, 1986). 

By the 1960s, gender and sexuality had evolved from a contentious issue in Western society into a socially accommodated argument within the socio-political intelligentsia. From the 1960s to the 1990s, prominent modern and contemporary feminist artists had extensively engaged with sexuality as the core of their feminist expressions and representations. By the time artists like Tracey Emin emerged in the feminist art world with a focus on sexuality and gender rights, pioneers like Georgia O’Keeffe (image -6), Judy Chicago (image -7), Louise Bourgeois(image -8), Barbara Kruger (image -9), Sarah Lucas (image -10) and many others had already established feminist sexuality as a normative practice, backed by a rich historical and theoretical genealogy.

Georgia O’Keeffe, Grey Lines with Black, Blue and Yellow, 1923. Oil on canvas. 48 × 30 inches. Museum of Fine Arts, Houston. © Georgia O'Keeffe Museum / Artists Rights Society (ARS), New York. (Image -6)

Judy Chicago (American, born 1939). The Dinner Party, 1974–79. Ceramic, porcelain, textile, 576 × 576 in. (1463 × 1463 cm). Brooklyn Museum; Gift of the Elizabeth A. Sackler Foundation, 2002.10. © Judy Chicago. (Photo: Donald Woodman) (image 7)

Louise Bourgeois, Cell XXVI (detail), 2003, steel, fabric, aluminium, stainless steel and wood 252.7 x 434.3 x 304.8 cm, Collection Gemeente museum Den Haag, The Netherlands. Photo: Christopher Burke, © The Easton Foundation / Licensed by VG Bild-Kunst © Louisiana museum (image -8)

Barbara Kruger, Untitled (Your body is a battleground), 1989, (Image -9)

Sara Lucas, “Au Naturel,” (1994). Mattress, melons, oranges, cucumber, and bucket 33 1/8 x 66 1/8 x 57 in (84 x 168.8 x 144.8 cm) (image courtesy New Museum) (image 10)

Despite these advances in feminist perspectives that have created prominent symbols of gender equality in public spaces, Karla Méndez highlights a critical deficiency in these cultural icons in her paper, "Something is Missing from the Walls: Examining the Radical History of Black Feminist Art."

She argues, "While many instinctively refer to artists like Judy Chicago and her piece 'The Dinner Party' (1974-1979) or Miriam Schapiro's 'Big XO' (1967) when discussing feminist art, many Black women artists were creating work during this period. Although the mainstream feminist art movement centered on women's experiences, it was often told through a White lens, which excludes the experience of being a Black woman in the United States. It ignores what Black American women encounter existing at the intersection of a racial and gender identity that has historically been oppressed" (Méndez, 2020).

Méndez points out that the racial biases within these cultural icons can obscure fundamental flaws in their representations and arguments. The issue of gender equality and sexuality, celebrated as women's liberation, was often reduced to the assertion of white women's perspectives, overlooking the contributions and experiences of Black women and their practices. Méndez notes that writers of art and feminist history have constructed feminist narratives that exclude Black feminist contributions as if they did not exist. (Mendez, 2020)

Audre Lorde, in her essay derived from her panel comment during the "Second Sex Conference," addressed similar issues within academic and social spheres in Western thinking. She and another Black lesbian feminist academic were invited at the last minute to make the conference appear inclusive. However, they were only included in the panel discussing "The Personal and the Political," implying that the inputs of poor, Black, older, or Black lesbian women were not needed in other panels covering topics like existentialism, the erotic, women's culture and silence, developing feminist theory, or heterosexuality and power (Lorde, 1979).

Both Méndez and Lorde highlight the dichotomy in society's socio-political and cultural constructions of icons and its majoritarian structure. In the same essay, Lorde poignantly commented on this situation: "For the master's tools will never dismantle the master's house. They may allow us temporarily to beat him at his own game, but they will never enable us to bring about genuine change." (Lorde, 1979).

 

In her essay "Something is Missing from the Walls: Examining the Radical History of Black Feminist Art," Méndez also narrates an incident highlighting a similar majoritarian structural issue. In 1977, the Heresies Collective, a group of predominantly white feminist artists in New York City, published their third annual journal titled "Lesbian Art and Artists." This publication had to be publicly condemned by the Combahee River Collective, a Black feminist, lesbian, and socialist organization active in Boston from 1974 to 1980, for failing to include lesbians of colour in the journal. (Mendez, 2020).

 

Although the examples above demonstrate that icons—whether cultural, social, political, or economic—are rooted in the power dynamics of majoritarianism and its nuanced socio-cultural priorities, especially concerning the body, gender, and sexuality of the oppressed, understanding these icons cannot rely solely on the cultural practices of the dominant group. In her essay "Gee, You Don't Seem Like an Indian from the Reservation," Barbara Cameron opens a Pandora's box by discussing the mutual suspicion among oppressed peoples from the Third World. She notes, "Racism among Third World people is an area that needs to be discussed and dealt with honestly. We form alliances loosely based on the fact that we have a common oppressor, yet we do not have the commitment to talk about our own fears and misconceptions about each other. I've noticed that liberal, consciousness-raised white people tend to be incredibly polite to Third World people at parties or other social situations. It's almost as if they make a point to shake your hand or introduce themselves and then run down all the latest right-on Third World or Native American books they've just read. On the other hand, it's been my experience that if there are several Third World gay people at a party, we make a point of avoiding each other and spend our time talking to the whites to show how sophisticated and intelligent we are. I've always wanted to introduce myself to other Third World people but wondered how I would introduce myself or what I would say. There are so many things I would want to say, except sometimes I don't want to remember that I'm Third World or Native American. I don't want to remember because sometimes it means recognizing that we're outlaws" (Cameron, 1983).

 

Adopting the cultural constructs of the oppressors or majority to become acceptable to them, while disassociating from one's own cultural markers out of fear of being recognized by the oppressors or majority, encapsulates the story of how icons are built in our world. This process demonstrates how majoritarianism, with its embedded patriarchal traits, dominates and overshadows the patriarchy of minority groups within which gender rights have to negotiate for its dignity. 

In their "A Black Feminist Statement," the Combahee River Collective—a group of African American women meeting in Boston to discuss the intersections of systems that promote racial, gendered, heteronormative, and class-based oppression—recognized this fault line as essential for the liberation of Black women from majoritarian white racism. They stated, "Above all else, our politics initially sprang from the shared belief that Black women are inherently valuable, that our liberation is a necessity not as an adjunct to somebody else's but because of our need as human persons for autonomy" (The Combahee River Collective, 1977).

In the same statement, the collective further asserted, "We realize that the only people who care enough about us to work consistently for our liberation is us. Our politics evolve from a healthy love for ourselves, our sisters, and our community, which allows us to continue our struggle and work... We believe that sexual politics under patriarchy is as pervasive in Black women's lives as are the politics of class and race. We also often find it difficult to separate race from class from sex oppression because, in our lives, they are most often experienced simultaneously. We know that there is such a thing as racial-sexual oppression that is neither solely racial nor solely sexual, e.g., the history of rape of Black women by white men as a weapon of political repression" (The Combahee River Collective, 1977).

By adopting such resistance, the Combahee River Collective illustrates how an oppressed minority can potentially liberate itself in the game of dominance and the construction of icons and their representative iconography by building its own symbols and narratives.

In this declaration, one may also find the answer to the opening quotation of this essay by Ravinder Kaur: "At once old and new: whose wounds can be preserved, exhibited, and remembered in the public domain?" (Ravinder Kaur, Tariq Syma, 2023).

The leading contemporary Black feminist artist from the US, Mickalene Thomas, exemplifies this iconography in her works (image-11), providing insight into constructing an iconography that defies the hegemony of majoritarianism and its patriarchal culture. Theorist Derek Conrad Murray, in his 2014 essay in American Art, describes her works: "Her depictions of African-American women explore notions of celebrity and identity while engaging with the representation of black femininity and power. Inhabiting the '70s-style genre of Blaxploitation, the subjects in Thomas's paintings and collages radiate sexuality, which has been interpreted by some as a satire of misogynistic and racist tropes in media, including films and music associated with the Blaxploitation genre" (Murray, 2014).

In her work, we see the iconography of Black, women, and queer sexuality standing tall on the white museum walls, among other iconic works, including those with racial and cultural prejudices. This likely serves as a declaration about the content and context of the museum, the repository of human iconography, as "Memory of visceral inscriptions carved with emotions" with its varied hues and colours. Period. 

Mickalene Thomas, Le Dejeuner sur l’herbe: les trois femmes noires, 2010, Photograph - New York Times (Image -11)

Acknowledgement: This Keyword essay was an outcome of the Doctoral course "Feminist and Queer Worldmaking: A Reading Seminar in Doctoral Studies in Art, Design, and Transdisciplinary Studies." offered by Dr Kush Patels, SMI.

Bibliography :

1. France to ban female students from wearing abayas in state schools, 28 August 2023, By Ece Goksedef, BBC News
2. Audre Lorde, “The Master’s Tools Will Never Dismantle the Master’s House (Comments at “The Personal and the Political” Panel, Second Sex Conference, October 29, 1979),” in Sister Outsider: Essays and Speeches, Ed (Berkeley, CA: Crossing Press, 2007), 110–114.
3. Alexxa Gotthardt, 5 Iconic works by Yoko Ono: artsy.net, 2019
4. Brown, Neil (2006), Tracey Emin. UK: Tate Publishing. ISBN 1-85437-542-3.
5. Balasz Takac (20210, The art and Politics of the Heresies collective, Widewalls.ch
6. Karla Méndez,  Something is missing from the walls: Examining the radical history of Black Feminist art, Blackwomenradicals.com
7. Barbara Camaroon “"Gee, you don't seem like an Indian from the reservation", 1983
8. Saidiya Hartman, “The Time of Slavery,” The South Atlantic Quarterly 101:4 (2002): 757–777.
9. The Combahee River Collective, A Black Feminist Statement, Women's Studies Quarterly , FALL/WINTER 2014, Vol. 42, No. 3/4, SOLIDARITY (FALL/WINTER 2014), pp. 271-280
10. Syma Tariq, “Partitioned Listening: Sonic Exercises Outside of Archival Time,” in Pakistan Desires: Queer Futures Elsewhere, ed. Omar Kasmani (Durham: Duke University Press, 2023), 83–99.
11. Gail Omvedt, “‘Patriarchy’: The Analysis of Women’s Oppression,” Insurgent Sociologist 13 (3) (1986): 30–50.
12.  Murray, Derek Conrad (March 2014). "Mickalene Thomas". American Art. 28 (1): 9–15

https://www.academia.edu/124008011/Memory_of_visceral_inscription_carved_with_emotions