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Title: Senzala or Quilombo Author: Pedro Ribeiro Date: 2005 Language: en Topics: black anarchism, Anarchist People of Color, white supremacy Source: Retrieved on 8 November 2015 from http://www.anarkismo.net/newswire.php?story_id=460 Notes: by Pedro Ribeiro from the Furious Five Revolutionary Collective San Jose, CA www.furiousfive.50megs.com Note for our international comrades: APOC is the Anarchist People Of Color organization based mostly in the US.
In years past, when the slavery of the children of Africa was carried
out by chain and whip instead of uniforms and patrol cars, black people
in Brazil had only two places where they could be – in the Senzala or
the Quilombo. The Senzala was a small hut placed outside the master's
house, a shack in which the slaves would stay from after sunset to
before sunrise, chained to the walls and behind locked doors. The
Senzala was their home; there they raised their children and grew old.
In secret, they practiced their language, religion and culture away from
white eyes. The window of the senzala would always face the main quad of
the plantation where a single post could be seen emerging from the
earth's belly. The Pelourinho – the mast in which rebellious slaves
where tortured into submission or death, whichever came first. This was
the Senzala.
But, every once in a while, a laborious and dedicated group of slaves
would defect from the generosity of the slave master's whips and chains
and senzalas, and go into the jungle. They would run, day after night
after day after night, into the mata, deeper into the forest; away from
the treacherous Capitaes to Mato, the black or mulatos overseers
responsible for capturing escaped slaves. In the jungle, they looked for
hope. In the jungle, they looked for freedom. In the jungle, away from
the white man, they looked for the Quilombo.
Quilombos were city-states created in the heart of the mata by escaped
slaves. The most famous - the largest and the one whose name was
whispered in secret in the dark by those in search of freedom - that was
Palmares. Palmares had a estimated population of twenty to thirty
thousand, structured in eleven different villages. In Palmares, as in
other Quilombos escaped slaves held the majority. Natives and poor
whites were also accepted into the Quilombo, with and shared the same
rights and duties as anyone else. Decisions where made by village
assemblies, in which every adult, man or woman, of every race, could
(and most would) participate.
No, Palmares was no utopia. It was no communist society in which the
decisions where as horizontal as possible and in which all were seen as
equal. Palmares had chiefs, one for each village. The chief of the
capital, Macacos, was the king of Palmares. But this is neither here nor
now. The now is the quilombo as opposed to the senzala.
Palmares died in flames. It fought until the last person was dead. It
had been fighting for its sovereignty and independence for over one
hundred years. It gave its blood to defend what it cherished most – its
freedom and its self-determination.
Whatever drove the Palmarinos to fight is what I am interested in
talking about. A friend of mine said something that struck a cord in me.
He said: “People are always talking about dying for this or that. You
gotta die for the cause if you are militant enough, if you are really
bad ass you should die for your beliefs. But nobody asks, what are you
living for? Not dying, but living – what is your life for?”
The Palmarinos were living for something. They were living for their
freedom and their collective autonomy. They were living for their right
of self-determination, to do away with the chains that held them slaves
in the past and to decide by themselves the path of their life. If they
died fighting for that, they died for what they were living for. They
died the death of free people.
We now call ourselves Anarchists. We say we want the end of all chains
and the extermination of all oppression. Yet, in the Anarchist
“movement”, black folk and other folks of color are still in the
senzala. We are still having to disguise ourselves, call whitey “Massa”
and chain ourselves to the wall. No, don't talk about racism unless is
in that very abstract sense of
“we-are-all-equal-let's-sing-kumbayas-and-pretend-the-color-of-our-skin-does-not-matter”
racism. While there might be nobody yelling “die, nigger, die!*”, you
can hear a very clear “shut the fuck up, nigger, just shut the fuck up.”
We pretend that racism is just a minor problem, something that, like the
Leninist State, will wither away if we will it to. The intrinsic racist
characteristics that infect Anarchism, specially North-American
Anarchism, cannot be questioned without one being seen as some kind of
authoritarian nationalist, or even worse, a Maoist. Red-baiting, of all
things!
Like in the real senzala, our resistance to racism needs to be covert.
It needs to be hidden and made like it is something else. It cannot be
what it needs to be, it cannot do what needs to be done, or the senzala
would break apart and the master's house would be set aflame. No. Like
capoeira, our fight against white supremacy inside North American
anarchism needs to disguise itself as a dance in order to become a
martial art.
And you know how the rap goes: if we talk about empowerment we are power
hungry. If we assert our self-determination, we are authoritarian
nationalists. When we expose how white Anarchism is, elitist white
Anarchists generally come with excuses like “Hey, I saw a black
anarchist once!” or the classic, “well, we need to outreach to
communities of color.”
Let me tell you something, the reason why the masses are not flooding to
your Anarchism is exactly that one – it is your Anarchism. It is a
white, petty-bourgeois Anarchism that cannot relate to the people. As a
Black person, I am not interested in your Anarchism. I am not interested
in individualistic, self-serving, selfish liberation for you and your
white friends. What I care about is the liberation of my people. The
collective liberation of the children of the African Diaspora, those
that have been beaten down and treated worse than dogs all across the
world.
So, no, we are not interested in your anarchism. We need to create our
own. Understand this, if the whites in Palmares were allies and died
with the blacks and the natives it is not because they invited the
blacks and the natives into their structure, into their society and said
unto them: “We are all equal.” It was because the blacks and the natives
created their own structure - their own society - in which power
relations were different so that whites could not longer by the sheer
force of their privilege impose their view of how the society should be
run. To try and integrate people of color in your society or your
movement, like there would be no culture clash and no confrontation – it
is naive, senseless and can lead nowhere but into deception.
In the senzala of contemporary Anarchist theory and practice, the only
place for Blacks and other folks of color is the chain in the wall or
the Pelourinho. To question the structure of this “movement”, why is it
really composed mainly of white suburban boys, is a invitation to the
Pelourinho - or to the Quilombo.
Some escaped slaves decided to create their own Quilombo in the forest
of North America, and they called it A.P.O.C. - Anarchist People Of
Color. APOC was a necessary step on the beginning of the
self-determination of people of color inside the movement. This
self-determination we seek is to analyze the problems of race inside and
outside the movement in our own perspective. To create our own analysis
of authority and what it means for us to be Anarchists. What does it
mean for those that have always felt odd at an Anarchist event while
looking around and thinking are they made the wrong turn somewhere and
ended up in a white only area of segregated Mississippi.
When an anarchist tells me about how the cops are fascist pigs, I stop
for a second and think. A lot of times I'll of some experience in a
protest against this or that corporate meeting or something, in which
the cops tear gassed the crowd and whoop some ass and I think, man, you
got it easy. I remember in my neighborhood in Brazil, where if you got
only an ass-whooping, you would considered yourself lucky. I remember
the day they shot my uncle dead. I remember this one cop that used to
follow me around and scare the life out of me because I thought he was
going to cap me and there no way in hell I was approaching no
authorities to complain because then I would surely wind up dead. I
remember the police invading my grandma's house, guns in hand, while my
cousin was still a baby and was sleeping in my aunt's bed. Even here, in
my neighborhood in East Palo Alto, you can always hear the cops fussing
around at night and you know they are not looking for no black-bloc kid
from some protest or another. So tell me again how the cops are
fascists...
The fact is, we know oppression. We live it, we experience it. In one
form or another, one extreme or another. We do not conceptualize it. We
do not sit down and intellectualize about pain because our people have
been hunted down and shot, and burned and beaten and we lost the need to
understand pain philosophically when we learned it physically.
So why are the people not filling the ranks of the Anarchist movement?
What it is that prevents those people of color that have been feeling
the brunt of police brutality, and have been living off the scraps of
what capitalism leaves behind, why have they not joined the movement?
The answer is simple: because is not their movement. It can never be
their movement while it is being created by and for white middle-class
kids with a Jesus complex who think they can save the world (or the ones
with Buddha complex who think they can get wet by talking about water).
You cannot hustle the movement and you cannot hustle the people.
Revolution is not a game in which you can pretend to listen to the voice
of the people of color only when is convenient and shut them off when
they start questioning your privilege.
APOC, as any revolutionary step, spurned an immediate reaction, a
counter-revolutionary step. The amount of voices in the Anarchist
“movement” that have been raised to criticize, put down or, in any other
form, discredit APOC (most, if not all of them, white, by the way) have
been, if small, consistent and bold. To incur and cite these criticisms
is irrelevant to today's discussion. I am not here to defend APOC. I am
here to talk about why I don't need to do it.
APOC is our Quilombo. Our keep, our fortress, where we can meet as
people from oppressed background and not only share our experiences and
how they are relevant to each other, but also how they are relevant in
the larger scheme of things. APOC is more than a safe zone for people to
feel good about not being in a room without white folk, but is a
conscious project of self-determination for people of color. It is a
step closer to our freedom as a people and the materialization of the
idea that community comes from something in common, something we can
share.
No, APOC is no utopia. It is not even close. But that is neither here
nor now. We may stumble, we may fall, we may even break our heads wide
open. But at least we are walking on our own two feet.
It is pointless for me to try and convince white Anarchists of the need
for APOC because white anarchists have not experienced what we a people
of color have experienced. It is like trying to convince my boss of the
need for Socialism – a more often then not fruitless endeavor.
And while there are white Anarchists out there who remember that only
the oppressed can liberate themselves and the end of white supremacy
cannot be brought about by white people – there are those that, in their
arrogance and shortsightedness, will not yield and cannot tolerate the
thought that maybe there is something that Anarchist people of color
need to discuss that does not include white people.
And if, for a moment, I thought that APOC needed to be approved by the
white anarchist scene that would be the moment in which APOC would lose
its appeal to me. Because is not about being accepted, being cherished,
being “on the good side” with the white Anarchists – that is the
Senzala. It is about self-determination and it is about resistance. It
is about creating our own culture, our own analysis and dictating our
own future. APOC for me is not about seeking a way to make white people
love us, or hate us.
I have to tell you a secret about APOC: it is not about white people at
all. It is not, and it should not be ever. I am tired of talking about
white people, thinking of white people, analyzing white people and
worrying about white people. I want to know what I have in common with
my Korean sister and my Guatemalan brother. I want to know about the
great struggles for liberation in Uganda and how the Filipino resisted
imperalism. What can we learn from each other as people of color? What
does my bairro in Rio de Janeiro has in common with a Latino barrio in
East Side San Jose?
This is something I wrote for my sisters and brothers at APOC. We need
to understand ourselves in order to understand the world around us and
be able to fightand destroy the bourgeois plague which eating away our
homes, our lives and our cultures.
As a black person, my anarchism is Black Anarchism. As a member of the
exploited class, my anarchism is Class-Struggle Anarchism. As a person
who wishes for a better future, my anarchism is Anarchist-Communism.
Vamos a ela, porque temos muito, muito para construir.
Não tá morto que peleia!
Viva a Anarquia!
Pedro Ribeiro, a class-struggle anarchist.