(neo)colonial encounters between indigenous people and whites.
A white environmental anthropologist friend, whose judgment of representations of race I trust, loved it. So I decided to see the film, even though Haitian Listservs were buzzing about how Dr. Grace Augustine (Sigourney Weaver), in typical Hollywood fashion, demeaned one of the religions I grew up with. “We’re not talking about pagan voodoo but something that is real biologically: a global network of neurons.” An unapologetic lover of Vodou, I went to see for myself.
After seeing Avatar, I urged my younger sister to go take a look. We were both curious for different reasons. In our debriefing, we discussed the different aspects of the film that made us squirm. Blue monkey-like people played by dark actors. The noble savage narrative. The angry blue men competing with the good white guy who wins the blue girl. There were parts that we did like. It was absolutely beautiful. We were both in awe of the images of nature—a lush and glowing ecological world. The skills of animation. Then we went back to the uncomfortable moments. We spoke of the successful transferring scene when Moat (played by C. C. H. Pounder) led the ceremony that freed Jake Sully from his physically challenged white body. As high priestess, Moat called on the Na’Vi’s god Eywa for assistance. Seated, they encircled the tree with braced arms and moved in total unison.
Their repetitive chanting soon became drumming. “Sacred dance, sacred dance, sacred dance,” my sister said she kept murmuring to herself. She actually teaches a sacred dance class, and it was too familiar. The movements, setting, altar, offerings. Communion with nature. All beings are interconnected. The Na’Vi do not distinguish between themselves and their environment. We came back to the tree.
In Haitian Vodou ecology, trees have always been sacred. They are significant in rituals, as they are inhabited by spirits. Rapid deforestation of the island has impacted worship. In overpopulated urban settings, practitioners are living in what one scholar recently referred to as “post-tree Vodou.”1
It should be noted that deforestation of the island has some of its origins in the U.S. occupation of 1915–34. Then my sister pointed out that during the entire film, there was no mention of the Sky People’s god. It’s all New Age spirituality. New Age spirituality, with its purported openness, may incorporate some African-based religious practices, especially from Latin America, but (Haitian) Vodou remains stigmatized therein, especially in interfaith circles. Although a growing number of initiates are whites, few multidenominational churches dare to acknowledge it. Cultural specificities aside, Vodou shares core features—spirits, nature, ceremonies, and offerings—with other mystical religions. Avatar is a reminder of the hierarchy within alternative religions.
Surprisingly, I sat through Avatar with disciplined patience. I am so used to epic films about indigenous people always having white heroes, whether they be historical, contemporary, or science fiction fantasies. The Hollywood blockbuster machine with its penchant for good-versus-evil won’t risk financing tropes with alternative narratives. Is slavery not the worst of evils and Napoleon Bonaparte the ultimate villain? Yet a film about the Haitian Revolution—the only successful slave revolution that ousted European colonizers—still can’t seem to get off the ground. And the depiction of voodoo, Walt Disney recently reminded us, is still evil: see The Princess and the Frog.
To be sure, while Avatar doesn’t break free of Hollywood tropes, it does allow white characters to break out of dominant worldviews. The film had a range of Sky People who fought among themselves. In fact, the triumphant ones were all outcasts. A paraplegic man. A minority woman. An effeminate nerd. A masculinist white female scientist. A minority science man. There was also corporate greed. Military might. Skeptics and believers. There was a critique of science with irony. The cerebral Dr. Grace realized too late that the Na’Vi’s mystical voodoo is as valid and real as the science. She did not make the crossing, while the more visceral Jake, who went rogue, did.
The clash of cultures and races is an easy way for moviemakers to explore personal transformation. In too many films, dark bodies have systematically been the catalyst for white salvation. Avatar forces us to confront these contradictions as we wait for the epic film that has yet to be made—one that tells the natives-meets-white-men story from their perspective.
Half of life is figuring out which contradictions you’re willing to live with.
—Savyasaachi
2
Amid the Rubble and Ruin, Our Duty to Haiti Remains
January 14, 2010 / npr.org @ 11:29 a.m.
Words are especially difficult to come by in a state of numbness. My response to the outpouring of calls and e-mails from concerned friends has become something of a mantra. No, still no news yet. We have not been able to make contact with anyone. To stay sane, I have resigned myself to accepting that my immediate family will not come out of this without loss. And even if we did, the lives of the already departed and sheer magnitude of the devastation are enough to keep me catatonic.
You see, I was just in Haiti the week before Christmas. I went to the Ghetto Biennale of the Grand Rue artists. I returned from what I boasted was my best trip ever full of hope about the future. The reason for my optimism was encounters with people from Cité Soleil. Through INURED, a research institute, I met ten students who received scholarships to study in Brazil and members of a community forum that has been actively engaged in dialogue in attempts to build a broader coalition beyond politics. Their work renewed my dedication to participating in building the country again. I made a commitment to raise funds to make sure both of these efforts are successful.
Hope is not something that one often associates with Haiti. An anthropologist and critic of representations of the island, I have often questioned narratives that reduce Haiti to simple categories and in the process dehumanize Haitians. Yes, we may be the poorest nation in the Western Hemisphere, but there is life there, love, and an undeniable and unbeatable spirit of creative survivalism.
I have heard cries of Why Haiti? and Why now? or that this could have been avoided. Narratives of blame may be explanatory, but at this time they are not constructive. Since our inception as a sovereign state early in the nineteenth century, we have faced obstacles. We have had to build and rebuild before. I am worried about Haiti’s future. In the immediate moment we need help, rescue missions of all kinds. I am concerned about weeks from now when we are no longer front-page news. Without long-term efforts, we will simply not be able to rebuild. What will happen then?
My first response to seeing post-quake pictures of the capital was to ask, How will they build factories with this devastation? In the past year, the United Nations and special envoy Bill Clinton’s plans to help develop the country’s economy have virtually ignored dissent on the ground that called for a more humane approach that would not re-create the same exploitive labor relations that continue to serve the wealthy. Haiti’s government, with its absence of structure, cannot be ignored, as it is in desperate need of reinforcement, and civil space needs to be nurtured.
The folks I met last month had one response when I asked why, despite their personal hardships, they chose to engage in community building. In Creole or in French, they replied, “C’est mon devoir” (It is my duty). I was charmed by the phrase, its elegance and matter-of-factness. On this side of the water, I hold on to their words today as a sign that there is will in Haiti. When long-term efforts are on the way, the international community, too, must see it as its duty to not re-create the mistakes of the past.
3
Haiti Will Never Be the Same
January
