darkmatter

Boxed In is a recent essay by Sonya Dyer under the Manifesto Club banner. It is a rather predictable critique of public funding of black arts and artists. The core of the well-versed argument is that racially targeted state funding only leads to the ghettoisation of black artists. As the essay illustrates, it is not very difficult to give numerous examples of failed ‘diversity’ schemes and projects. Without going through the rather partial examples in the essay it is worth highlighting the real limitations of the argument:

Review of: Gautam Malkani (2007) Londonstani, HarperPerennial; and Nirpal Singh Dhaliwal (2006) Tourism, Vintage.

With last year’s protests surrounding the filming of Monica Ali’s Brick Lane the debate on authenticity and representation yet again reared its head. It seems a shame that novels produced by anyone of ‘ethnic’ descent are reduced to these racialised discussions but sometimes framing texts within such discourses is unavoidable. This is particularly the case with two debut novels published by British Asian authors over the past year: Londonstani by Gautam Malkani and Tourism by Nirpal Singh Dhaliwal.

Yet another post about Big Brother (BB) racism, but the last one you’ll ever need to read…

1. Was Emily Parr calling her fellow housemate a ‘nigger’ a racist expression? Yes…and stop asking such dumb questions. Regardless of whether with malicious intent , or just “speaking carelessly” as CH4 inanely put it, the term ‘nigger’ is steeped in a history of symbolic violence. Emily “nigger-is-a-friendly-term” Parr lives in a white fantasy land believing that this word can be inoffensively expressed to fellow contestants.

Something unusual happened yesterday in a city built largely on the artifice of celebrity. Millionaire heiress and ‘Simple Life’ star, Paris Hilton was led screaming from an LA courtroom to an uncertain future and the possibility of actually completing her 45 day jail sentence for driving offences and contempt of court violations. ‘Star’ might be a little excessive to describe Hilton’s invariably hapless efforts on the said TV programme to forego the umbilical comforts of a mobile phone and credit cards for the ’simple’ pleasures of an honest day’s work. What sticks in the mind, though, especially in the light of everything that’s happened since, is the flagrantly staged nature of her encounters with everyday folk and their work and home lives. The knowing smirk behind each frame gently reminds us, in case we’d forgotten, that this is just a game, the latest sitcom to feed off the carrion of ‘reality TV’. And like all games, it only carries on for as long as the players want to play - hence the cut, the commercial break, diverting out-take sequences and the media filtered knowledge of Ms Hilton’s ubiquitous presence on the not so pedestrian global party circuit.