Decolonization in Action Interview Episode 7: Climate Justice Matters For Black Lives Now"

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During the latest episode of the Decolonization in Action Podcast, I interviewed Black and African people who dedicate their creative practices and activist work to climate justice and sustainable futures. While the UN Climate Change Conference (COP25) is taking place in Madrid, I discussed the climate crisis with Rebecca Abena Kennedy-Asante from BLACK EARTH – BIPoC Environmental & Climate Justice Kollektiv Berlin, and Antoinette Yetunde Oni, an architectural designer and artist based in Lagos, Nigeria.

The episode begins with Antoinette Yetunde Oni, a Lagos-based artist who was a 2019 fellow at ZK/U, Center for Art and Urbanistics in Berlin in cooperation with the Department for Art and Culture Berlin-Mitte, Galerie Wedding, SAVVY Contemporary Berlin, and the Arthouse Foundation Lagos. Antoinette talks about her recent exhibition, New Commons Lagos to Berlin, in Berlin at Galerie Wedding and her commitment to activating design and African sustainable practices as ways to combat the climate crisis. She also connects how extractive capitalism and colonialism are not only the underlying causes of increased flooding in Lagos but are also directly related to racism and the exclusion of BIPoC activists within climate movements in London and Berlin. To prevent the climate crisis from continuing, she discusses how people need to come before profit.


In the second part of this episode, Rebecca Abena Kennedy-Asante from BLACK EARTH – BIPoC Environmental & Climate Justice Kollektiv Berlin contextualizes the recent Fridays for Future Climate Strike in Berlin within the country the emits the most carbon pollution in Europe: Germany. In order to confront the climate crisis, she talks about the importance of understanding how this crisis itself arose, which is the story of colonialism, industrialization, and violence that has lasted over 500 years. She also links current climate justice movements with centuries of anti-colonial struggles, discussing how protecting land rights has always been about also protecting the environment, while also talking about how the BLACK EARTH collective brings Black and Indigenous as well as non-cis, trans, intra, and non-binary perspectives to the climate justice movement in Berlin.

As always you can check out the episode on iTunes, Spotify, and Soundcloud.

Here are some resources that you can consider

Re-connecting with "Lose Your Mother"

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This morning I re-read Sadiya Hartman’s Lose Your Mother. In 2009, when I first discovered the text, I was living in Harlem, studying at Columbia, barely surviving, and always hustling. Hartman’s intellectual journey and fragmented familial history was her attempt to undo the erasure of her ancestors, to search for the intimate encounters of New World Blacks. As the progeny of African captives, our otherness is marked by the folks who survived the Middle Passage and enslavement, people who excite a transient dial between joy and pain, with a splash of ratchetness interwoven with prophetic dreams. Upon dismemberment in Ghana, she discovered that her skin folk saw her as a “foreigner from across the sea.” A line had been drawn. Africans who never left the continent had moved on from recognizing us as their own, or rather, the ethnic groups that Hartman encountered had a new set of problems—the postcolonial ghosts of British imperialism—the vast continent that kept on growing. Different sets of traumas attended to the cultural separation and difference that made her feel like that far removed cousin sitting awkwardly occupying a seat at a family table As I read Hartman’s prose and absorbed the pain of knowing that we Black Americans are strangers in the country of our birth and aliens on the continent that our ancestors were stolen, I wept. I lamented for the dead I will never know and the living who never see me as their own.

Tomorrow, I travel to South Africa. To the best of my knowledge, this will be the first time that someone in my family has been to sub-Saharan Africa since slavery. Re-reading Lose Your Mother demonstrated that I am not fully prepared for the emotional burden of having a lifetime of being alien, strange, and foreign. I will try to gather my ancestors and listen to the ghostly redolent strength, guiding us, inspiring us, and reminding us to continue our legacy of survival.

Unsettling the Roots of the Climate Crisis in the Middle East

Please check out my article my latest article in Stillpoint Magazine for their Fallows Issue. Contents are here:

Unsettling the Roots of the Climate Crisis in the Middle East

by Edna Bonhomme

Sci-copia by Sadie Weis

Sci-copia by Sadie Weis

On December 2011, I visited Cairo during the excitement of mass mobilization—of the disenfranchised, the young, and the poor—to topple a dictator, to imagine new possibilities, and to participate in forming a more democratic society. I visited the fortress city at the tail-end of the Arab uprisings, where vestiges of encampments could be found in Tahrir Square, popularly known as Liberation Square. Politics was a quotidian act, where people exercised their hopes doing what Asef Bayat has called “generating new spaces within which they can voice their dissent and assert their presence in pursuit of bettering their lives.” There was a palpable sense of systematic change, yet buried underneath this political metamorphosis was my own bodily alteration. I could not breathe. During my trip, I developed mild respiratory issues, my skin broke out, and my mucus was black. The most likely explanation was exposure to perennial air pollution in Cairo, a visible cloud that settles over the city, smothering the Nile Delta, and beyond. This ecological phenomenon plagues the city, darkening the sky into a foreboding smog which is gathered from desert grains and industrial pollution, carbon-based vehicles, and manufacturing plants. My bodily reactions are unsettling, and point to climate change, which impacts whether or not people can respire in the city.

The air pollution in Cairo is indicative of how climate change is rooted in extractive resources such as petrol, gas, and coal and are then envisaged in a postcolonial landscape, generating airborne and respiratory diseases on a global scale. In his monograph Breathing Space, Greg Mitman depicts “breathing spaces,” which are linked to both nature and human constructions. He writes:

[T]he places where Americans have struggled to breathe, as well as the spaces they have created to breathe more freely—lavishly landscaped estates, hay fever resorts, air-conditioned homes—have been shaped, not only by the ecology of animal, insect, plant, and man-made allergens, but also by the unequal distribution of wealth and health care in American society. 

Although the place and inequality he discusses is focused on the United States, the consequences of who is allowed to breathe extends globally. According to a 2018 report by the World Health Organization, 90% of the world’s population breathes polluted air, yet the ecological damage varies. For people in mega cities like Cairo, air pollution can persist for days or weeks at a time. Such volatile ecological phenomena sends people to the hospital with exacerbated lung infections and asthma attacks at unusually high rates, and contributes to cancer and other long-term illnesses.

In her essay “On Being Ill,” Virginia Woolf lamented over literary representations of poor health. In this piece, she argues that authors rarely write about illness in their work and suggests that accounts on malaise could enliven the reader. For Woolf, a malady offered a significant amount of inspiration and leverage for a colorful story. The body and its ailments are part of a broader struggle that exists between the soul and the corpus. For the sick, the world is turned on its head. The leaves outside may appear purple and family members might appear taller than normal. Physical pain might distract one from concentrating well. Altogether, illness changes one’s mood and perceptions. 

By this account, illness cannot be reduced to the physical. I agree with Woolf. The environment plays into bodily illness and how marginalized groups, such as the (formerly) colonized, speak about and embody illness. These personal and literary formulations can go a step further—they can point us to why people get sick in the first place and how illness is rooted in the social and economic processes that initiate ill health. Disease is not an abstract phenomenon that exists internal to the body, rather, it is co-produced by the environment we move through, the air we breath, and the toxicities we ingest. Climate change is part of our medical narrative.

My encounter with the air pollution in Cairo is one of many examples of how a moment and a new environment is linked to the global gravity of climate change. Climate change gestures to the transformation of bodies and the creation of new illnesses. The sensation of breathing toxic air and the permutations in the particles one inhales is one of the many examples of how toxicities are made omnipresent. Our bodies operate as vestibules subjected to the new social geography that global capitalism is reifying, generating hierarchies of life and death. Since the beginning of the nineteenth century, modernization projects in Cairo, as documented by Khaled Fahmy in All the Pasha’s Men, produced massive state projects including expanding irrigation systems, reforming educational institutions, and expanding agricultural production. While Egyptian nationalist efforts played a role in changing the built environment, British imperial interventions, especially alongside development along the Nile River, as Jennifer Derr writes, also generated new diseases. Even further, Red Sea, Mediterranean Sea, and Suez Canal transportation is another mode of how development projects in Egypt have increased its carbon footprint. Climate catastrophes are not independent phenomena that exist in local settings, rather they are part of five hundred years of colonialism as Imeh Ituen and Rebecca Abena Kennedy-Asante have remarked.

The history of environmental and climate change in Cairo and the Middle East is a key example of increased temperature, increased desertification, and increased air pollution. In their 2018 article on climate change in the Middle East and North Africa, Edoardo Bucchignani and his colleagues projected temperature increases of 0.44 and 0.22 degrees and a reduction of precipitation. The data is not accidental, rather it is a growing environmental crisis that has been deployed for centuries. In Something New Under the Sun, J.R. McNeill indicated that “the world in the 20th century used 10 times as much energy as in the thousand years before.” What he is gesturing towards is the nearly sixteenfold energy use and increases in industrial output. A profound shift has happened between humans and nature, and humans have been part of that climatic shift. The Anthropocene, as popularized by Nobel Prize winner Paul Crutzen, has circulated as one of the many ways that people mark, classify, and interpret how climate change occurs today.

The notion of the Anthropocene can be a useful tool, and more recently, the notions of the plantationocene and the capitalocene, offer insight about the legacies of capitalism on the earth. Researchers identify the plantationocene with former and present plantations that organize agricultural, human, and financial relations. As an environmental humanities practice, researchers such as Janae Davis, attempt to elucidate how the multispecies interactions on the plantation, can be a productive site for understanding the damage done on Earth while also pointing to agricultural reinvention by the enslaved. Capitalism, and subsequently the capitalocene, Jason Moore argues, locates the climate crisis in petrochemical dependency, a phenomenon that marks the twentieth century. Part of what makes the Middle East and North Africa exceptional is how various countries therein enter a world system of petrol-based capitalism, whether those countries are directly involved or not. Robert Vitalis’s article “Oil: The Stuff of Mass Delusions” outlines the dynamic cores of petrol extraction increasingly concentrated in the Middle East, which are, he argues, geopolitical. He also links geopolitical alliances between Saudi Arabia and the United States to petrol dependency. The apotheosis of these phenomena are predicated on new social relations, economic relations, and political demands, disaggregated and laid out in ways that lead to the degradation of the biosphere. 

These contemporary geopolitical formations and their ecological and social impacts result from centuries-long, aggressive extractive campaigns—which began under colonialism and which continue by the authoritarian and profit-driven elites of the twenty-first century. The historical legacies can be found today in a rise in global industrial consumption, which has resulted in an increase in CO2 emissions and a rise of carbon in the atmosphere. Both colonialism and its unwitting offspring neoliberalism—both based on models of maximum yield, productivity, and exploitation—have contributed dramatically to environmental degradation and shifts in the Middle East and North Africa where petrol have long been extracted from the shores of the Arabian and Persian Gulf, and where waste amounts to 150 million tons per year.

In 2014, the European Union (EU) and Egypt signed a bilateral agreement to address Egypt’s natural gas production and developed a partnership with the Kafr El Sheikh Waste Water Management Programme. Moreover, there were subsequent agreements in 2014 up until 2017 by the EU to allocate funds for sustainable economic development as well as Egyptian pollution abatement—most of which are tied to urban development projects such as the Fayoum Wastewater Expansion Programme. While efforts such as these are lauded, the decisions are not being made by the majority of Egyptian citizens, and their results are not always made visible to everyday people. In contrast, non-elite Egyptians, such as the zabaleen, have long been working to deal with waste consumption in the city of Cairo. As Yasmine Hassan reported in Egypt Today, “The Moqattam Garbage City alone handles 5,000 tons of garbage per day, 90 percent of which is recycled in workshops within the city itself and reintegrated into the economy through factories and enterprises.” This grassroots, rather than legislative, process of managing Egypt’s internal waste has long been tied to the modern experience of many citizens in Cairo.

One thing that is needed in the global climate justice movement today is true reflection on how unevenly resource extraction has been distributed and exercised, and the extent to which extracted petrol in particular has contributed to the environmental crisis of today. The circumstances that create the modern climate crisis cannot be extricated from their financial or imperialist roots, from the full list of reasons petrol is extracted from within one community and not another. As former Malaysian Prime Minister Mohamad Mahathir remarked in the 1992 Rio de Janeiro Conference: 

When the rich chopped down their own forests, built their poison-belching factories and scoured the world for cheap resources, the poor said nothing. Indeed they paid for the development of the rich. Now the rich claim a right to regulate the development of the poor countries.  

What Mahathir is pointing to is imperialism’s material and political imprint—one tied to resource extraction coupled with continued capitalist expansion—which has led to the further inequality between former colonial powers and the formerly colonized. However, in the years to come, no one will be immune from the consequences of global industrial waste, deforestation, and the exposure to pathogens.

We are told, by the youth who have galvanized for the climate through such actions as Fridays for the Future, that the world is burning. The burning of the planet, as Naomi Klein points out in On Fire, is not merely inundated by a metaphorical fire, but it is one that is disproportionately realized in the Global South. In Cairo, that plays out as a dark cloud that makes it difficult to breath. The capricious presence of “bad air” in Cairo is but one iteration of a host of environmental issues. Yet, what is generating the bad air is what lies beneath the surface of people’s daily lives. The environment is assembled through particulate matter, molecules that are unseen, and clouds that descend upon us, predicated on unpredictable elements, expansive real estate into the desert, and a sewage system that needs fixing.

In June 2018 I returned to Cairo and walked through Cairo’s Khan al Khalili where I heard the familiar sounds of prayer calls and people surviving in the shadow of the Arab uprisings. I saw a moribund revolution with glimmers of hope, while all around, air pollution had gone unhinged with unsanctioned regulation of emissions in the city of Cairo. The climate crisis alters one’s constitution, and it can contribute to unintended consequences that make people sick. Today, ecological shifts of the mega cities like Cairo are one example of the climate dystopia that is to come. The inability to respire is one ecological and bodily extension of the suffocation that results from long histories of authoritarian rule, economic destruction, and inequity. Similar to 2011, breathing was difficult, albeit for a host of reasons. In my return to Cairo, what stood out to me was that breathlessness is no longer merely a metaphor, it has become a way of life.

References

Bayat, Asef. Life as Politics: How Ordinary People Change the Middle. Stanford University Press, 2013.

Bucchignani, Edoardo, et al. “Climate change projections for the Middle EastNorth Africa domain with COSMO-CLM at different spatial resolutions.” Advances in Climate Change Research,vol. 9, no. 1, 2018, pp. 66-80.

Davis, Janae, et al. “Anthropocene, Capitalocene, . . . Plantationocene?: A Manifesto for Ecological Justice in an Age of Global Crises.” Geography Compass, vol. 13, no. 5, 2019.

Derr, Jennifer. The Lived Nile: Environment, Disease, and Material Colonial Economy in Egypt. Stanford University Press, 2019.

European Commission. “Commission Implementing Decision: on the Annual Action Programme 2014 in favour of Egypt to be financed from the general budget of the European Union.” The European Commission, 23 Oct. 2014, https://ec.europa.eu/neighbourhoodenlargement/sites/near/files/neighbourhood/pdf/key-documents/aap-2014-egypt-financing-commission-decision-20141023_en.pdf.

European Commission. “Commission Implementing Decision: on the Annual Action Programme 2017 (Part 2) in favour of Egypt to be financed from the general budget of the Union.” The European Commission, 6 Dec. 2017, https://ec.europa.eu/neighbourhood-enlargement/sites/near/files/annual-action-programme-2017-decision-and-annexes_egypt.pdf.

Fahmy, Khaled. All the Pasha’s Men: Mehmed Ali, His Army, and the Making of Modern Egypt. Cambridge University Press, 1997.

Hassan, Yasmine. “From trash to treasure: Egypt’s new recycling initiative triggers dispute with millions of garbage collectors.” Egypt Today, 17 Apr. 2017, https://www.egypttoday.com/Article/1/4027/From-trash-to-treasure-Egypt%E2%80%99s-new-recycling-initiative-triggers-dispute.

Hessler, Peter. “Tales of the Trash.” The New Yorker, 6 Oct. 2014, https://www.newyorker.com/magazine/2014/10/13/tales-trash.

Ituen, Imeh, and Rebecca Abena Kennedy-Asante. “500 Jahre Umweltrassismus.” Die Tageszeitung, 18 Nov. 2019, https://taz.de/Kolonialismus-und-Klimakrise/!5638661.

Klein, Naomi. On Fire: The Burning Case of the Green New Deal. Penguin, 2019.

Mitman, Gregg. Breathing Space: How Allergies Shape Our Lives and Landscapes. Yale University Press, 2007.

Mohamad, Mahathir. “Statement by His Excellency Prime Minister Dr Mahathir Mohamad of Malaysia at the United Nations Conference on Environment and Development Rio de Janeiro, 13 June 1992.” ASEAN Economic Bulletin, vol. 9, no. 1, 1992, pp. 106-108.

Moore, Jason W. “The Capitalocene, Part I: On the nature and origins of our ecological crisis.” The Journal of Peasant Studies, vol. 44, no. 3, 2017, pp. 594630.

World Health Organization. “9 out of 10 people worldwide breathe polluted air, but more countries are taking action.” WHO Press Release, 2 May 2018, https://www.who.int/news-room/detail/02-05-2018-9-out-of-10-people-worldwide-breathe-polluted-air-but-more-countries-are-taking-action.

Zafar, Salman. “Waste-to-Energy Outlook for the Middle East.” EcoMENA, 12 Nov. 2016, https://www.ecomena.org/waste-to-energy-perspectives-for-

Edna with the Bad Hair

This is an article that I wrote for Daddy Magazine.

An Ongoing Hair Journey

By Edna Bonhomme

Artwork by Elise Chastel.

Artwork by Elise Chastel.

In recent years, Black women have been dominating the covers of fashion magazines such as Elle, Vogue, Marie Claire, celebrating the melanin richness and creative coiffures of writers, fashion designers, and more. These Black women are featured because they have excelled as cultural producers and many of them have become iconic household names—Beyoncé, Issa Rae, Lupita Nyong'o. Their image and success have conjured up such phrases as “melanin poppin” with a new revival of the 1960’s mantra “Black is Beautiful.” While Black women have been rejoiced on these platforms, this has not always been the case.

Many Black women that I grew up with had kinky curly hair and articulated their complicated and layered hair stories. Some harped over the labor it took to straighten their hair with a hot iron and others would straighten their hair with a sulfur-based chemical relaxer wanting to replicate a Jane Fonda look. These ritualistic acts were concerned with one thing—disentangling the curl.

I have never loved my hair mostly because I was always told that there was something wrong with it and that it had to be manipulated. Having lived in three continents--Africa, Europe, and North America--my hair care journey has been an internal struggle clouded by external limits. From early on, my 4C hair has been disregarded as “bad hair,” leading my family members to chemically straighten my dark coils. At the age of 13, when I learned about the sulfur-based products in chemical relaxers, I decided to set myself on the path to natural hair. With very little guidance and encouragement from my family, I did what I could best, I either kept my hair short, wore locks, or had my hair braided. One of the many things that are difficult about living in Germany is that so many of the hair care products do not work for my 4C hair. Beyond that, the Black hair care industry often has items that are overpriced and unaffordable. The process of working with hair that is disregarded has been a lifelong journey.

What I perceived to be a personal struggle for managing my hair extended even to the demi-gods amongst us who also spoke about their hair woes. The Black American poet, Maya Angelou once remarked, "Whenever something went wrong when I was young - if I had a pimple or if my hair broke - my mom would say ”Sister mine, I'm going to make you some soup. And I really thought the soup would make my pimple go away or my hair stronger.” For Black women, including myself, the hair journey can be an arduous path entangled in moments of despair so it is no accident that a new generation of people are trying to challenge these falsehoods and create new spaces for Black beauty.

In North America and Europe, Black hair care has evolved to incorporate more expansive and healthier approaches to discussing and displaying curly hair. From New York City’s Curl Fest to the visual archives of Afropunk, the African diaspora have found various meeting points to document the diversity of hairstyles and expression. In Berlin, where I live, Afro-Germans hosted the first annual Curl Con, that featured workshops, Afro-centric hair & skin products, food, and more. While speaking with Sarah, aged 35, at the festival, she remarked, “I was born in Germany and I can relate to every story every hurdle. It is tough. We are so beautiful. Girls talking to girls. There are models we need each other.”

In an age where people are dispersed, finding products that make one beautiful can be costly when one is a minority. The beauty concerns of Germany’s 2 million Afro-German & other African descended inhabitants is not a small matter given that some African descended are not sufficiently served in the hair & beauty industry. At the same time, their concerns speak to a wider problem in the beauty industry in Europe and beyond. As Funmi Fetto has written in The Guardian, gatekeepers of the beauty industry fail Black women precisely because they do not attend to curly and kinky hair care and the range of skin tones. Moreover, there are often difficulties in transferring knowledge about hair care within the community when the African diaspora is so diverse.

Another fault line of the hair care industry is that African descended people can spend up to three times more on hair and body care. What this goes to show is that racism is costly. What this shows is that people with curly and kinky hair textures might will often spend more to attend to their beauty needs. Even more egregious, as Oluwaseun Matiluko wrote about in Gal-dem, is that the beauty industry does not always pay attention to the concerns of Black women and other women of color.

Black Hair is political not because we want it to be but because these industries were not designed by us and made for us. For many African descended people who are far away from home, developing a community with other Black people can provide the opportunity to rant, share stories, and cope with hair woes. That is why it is important to have forums, spaces, and gatherings that center curly hair specialists who can provide advice, without judgment. My hair journey is currently being realized in Germany, where the African diaspora is allowing some people to celebrate their curls rather than simply suppress it. Nevertheless, more can be done to make Black hair and skin less taboo and more inclusive—one that fosters healthy relationships with Black curls.

Episode 6: Towards an African Technological & Scientific Imaginary

Towards an African Technological & Scientific Imaginary

Image: “Technician in biotech laboratory” by IITA Image Library is licensed under CC BY-NC-SA 2.0

Image: “Technician in biotech laboratory” by IITA Image Library is licensed under CC BY-NC-SA 2.0

In this episode of Decolonization in Action, I speak with Professor Chakanetsa Mavhunga discuss the history of the African continent with relation to scientific, technological, and medical innovations. A center element of this conversation is the role that philosophical traditions and space have in shaping the epistemology of knowledge. They also examine Africa’s colonial history, the power of historical narrative, African women scientists, and the future of innovation on the African continent.

Chakanetsa self-identifies as a critical thinker-doer, who deploys historical research in service of problem-solving. Chakanetsa is a tenured associate professor of science, technology, and society (STS) at MIT and the founder of Research || Design || Build, a village-based institute in rural Zimbabwe dedicated to promoting interdisciplinary problem-solving, innovation, and entrepreneurship among Africa’s rural poor. He is the author of three books on science, technology and innovation in Africa, viz.: Transient Workspaces: Technologies of Everyday Innovation in Zimbabwe (2014); What Do Science, Technology, and Innovation Mean from Africa? (2017, editor); and The Mobile Workshop: The Tsetse Fly and African Knowledge Production (2018), and is working on the fourth, titled African Chemistry: Science with an African Totem.