By Simone C. Drake | @SimoneCDrake |with thanks to NewBlackMan (in Exile)
Friday, April 24, 2015.
There is perhaps no better litmus test for race
relations and the continuing perseverance of anti-blackness in the United
States than for a Fox news host to propose President Obama will offer an
apology for slavery “and then there's going to be a major push to get cash. And I’m talking
lots of cash.” Not surprisingly, in a consumer-driven, capitalist economy, the idea
of reparations becomes synonymous with cash payouts. Or, perhaps monetary
payments is logically deduced because slaves did not earn wages and
institutionalized racism has resulted in descendants of slaves, as a group,
earning less than their white (and Asian) counter-parts and possessing significantly less wealth.
It could be
the entanglement of this logic—wrongs are righted through cash—and this
reality—social and economic status of African Americans are inherited from the
past—that makes a night time soap opera like Lee Daniel’s Empire appealing to a
multiracial audience. Through its undeniable “blackness” and the foregrounding
of consumption, excess, and privilege (and black art) the series creates a world in which discussions of
reparations are moot. However, I would propose an implicit dialogue about
reparations frames the series.
The media
has been quick to label Empire a black version of the 1980s primetime soap
opera Dynasty. The New York Post, for example, proposes “‘Empire’ feels a bit like early-era ‘Dynasty,’
only with the Carringtons having gone gangsta.” While Empire is a soap
opera and not a sitcom, it is nonetheless interesting that media comparisons
have focused almost exclusively on Dynasty with only Dick Gregory making a
widely circulated comparison with The Cosby Show. Although the genres differ,
the predominately black cast of Empire shares significant commonalities with The
Cosby Show, as does the fact that both series revived their respective
television networks.
What
distinguishes Empire from both Dynasty and The Cosby Show, however, is the
black production of black narratives. Daniels is the executive producer of Empire.
Aside from Diahann Carroll (Dominique Devereaux) there is no recurring black
character on Dynasty and neither Dynasty nor The Cosby Show had black executive
producers (although Cosby did write for all episodes). Black production of
black narratives is reparative—it is a cultural reparation.
If
reparations is about making amends for a wrong, then black people having the
opportunity to tell their own stories and choose how they will be represented
is a form of reparations. In this same vein, the way in which, to channel Jill Scott, Daniels is “taking [his] freedom” in an industry that has been central to
producing and perpetuating racial stereotypes is doing more than repairing
wrongs. The black production of black narratives ultimately provides black
audiences viewing pleasure.
The need for
oppositional gazes disappears for many of the African American viewers who
according to Fox make up 62% of the show’s audience aged 18-49 (and this percentage must
raise some when you move to the next age bracket up, because my parents were
regular viewers). Being able to experience pleasure, even if only for forty-two
minutes once a week, in a nation that fosters racial animus and hostility—see
online comments on pretty much any subject regarding African Americans and
social, political, or economic plight—being able to simply enjoy seeing those
who look like you on a screen is reparative. And, bringing the series to network television rather than cable is an inclusive act.
If Lee
Daniels is “[p]ulling [his freedom] off the shelf,” then Cookie Lyons (Taraji
P. Henson) is Putting it on [her] chain/Wearing it 'round [her] neck.” There
seems to be a consensus that Cookie is the most beloved character of the
series. Her tenacity, hustle, and steadfast commitment to her children have
made 17 million viewers love her. Daniels did not set out intent on casting
Henson and Terrance Howard (Luscious Lyons, Cookie’s ex-husband) as leads in
this series. It is therefore ironic that these two actors would reunite in a
hip-hop-themed series after starring in Craig Brewer’s Hustle & Flow (2005)
together.
I have previously written about how Henson’s character (Shug) singing the hook on a
rap single only to result in a white woman and black man making a profit in Hustle
reflects a failed intersectional consciousness in Brewer’s efforts to “rebuild
the South.” Thus, to see Henson and Howard reunite on Empire, it is hard not to
think of this being Shug’s/Cookie’s moment to seek amends for not just
seventeen years of incarceration but also for everyone but her profiting off of
her sound.
Whether
Daniels will take us there is unknown. His questionable gender politics when it
comes to black women makes restitution for Cookie even more questionable.
Nonetheless, through her 90s style and channeling of Lil’ Kim, Salt-N-Pepa, and
Foxy Brown, Cookie amends the wrong of sexism in hip-hop, as she demands a
voice, authority, and power. Daniels better not do wrong by Cookie, because we
are #hereforcookie.
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Simone C. Drake is an assistant professor of
African American and African Studies at The Ohio State University. She is
the author of Critical
Appropriations: African American Women and the Construction of Transnational
Identity (LSU Press)
and her second book, When We Imagine Grace: Black Men and Subject Making
is under contract with University of Chicago Press.