Divesting from Quotidian Thefts: Notes on Rigorous Citation

"To be truly countercultural in a time of tech hegemony, one has to, above all, betray the platform which may come in the form of betraying or divesting from your public online self." — Caroline Busta

https://www.are.na/block/911775

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Africa is a concept that as a concept is often betrayed. I think about this when anything descendent from Africa is reappropriated—memetic dances, figures of speech, any and every form of testimony—but I find refuge in remembering that indeed the paradigms are shifting. Language is no longer enough. So many of us have had our tongues stolen from us and so proclamations of any scale are null on arrival to those numb to their stakes.

“We, as Black and Indigenous people, do not have ownership of these platforms and as such are more vulnerable than ever to having our work not only surveilled but weaponized against us. These technologies are coded primarily in English, and that linguistic structure inherently inscribes what is possible and not possible upon them. As my grandfather Gilbert Githere says, language is the home of spirit, and so any conjuring that takes place in these platforms and new technologies does so in translation, a critical fissure that renders its outputs asymptotic.

The future we inhabit now, of solar-scale “data” and lightspeed “making”, has been meticulously constructed through centuries of extraction and erasure. The presentism I speculate in the direction of is necessitated by a speed-sick broken heart. This presentism, in common with many words in the English language, is coded by its homonyms: an attendance, an offering, something delivered and deliberate.

Some of us are entitled to escape. Reality comes at a cost, and reality remains to be sculpted. Reverence to the ones who remain. Grace to all who flee, who seek refuge elsewhere, in the eye of the storm – enchanted.” — “Afropresentism: On Incantation and the Machine”

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After I shared my most recent dispatch last month, “Notes on Divesting From America,” I realized it was insufficient to testify to my own pursuit of refuge without being intentional about supporting others in doing the same. I decided to reopen my pilgrimage consultation calendar*, and had my first session today with another Black queer cultural worker who is taking the leap to move to South Africa. We spoke about fear, and risk, and the courage requisite amidst it all. I spent the bulk of the call telling them about the kin I came of age alongside in South Africa a decade ago — citing everything from meals to protests. I suffer from some pretty intense trauma-induced memory loss, but there are some things I could never forget. It would feel like a quotidian theft to talk and write about the places I’ve traveled and convictions I’ve acquired along the way without remembering the comrades, lovers, and catalysts who made this refuge a possibility for me — be it in word, in spirit, or in shelter itself.

Rigorous citation is a framework that grew into being foundational to me after durational reflections learning alongside Tsige Tafesse. Tsige is a relational architect whose contributions to culture bloom through conversation and space-making (in their many years co-stewarding BUFU, as well as their current work facilitating the Processing Foundation’s fellowship programs—applications are open until May 2nd!) — two modalities of artistic practice that go woefully under-cited amidst the Western trance of valorizing the myth of sole authorship. It is through discursive programming around rigorous citation that I deepened in kinship with Mimi Zhu, who displayed love as a verb through incorporating the idea of rigorous citation in the opening of their book “Be Not Afraid of Love”.

At the heart of rigorous citation is this affirmation:

I do not shy away from citing my kin because citation is a synonym for love,

And I will never be ashamed of loving everything that has made me breathe and live differently.

One of the key turning points in my guerrilla theory practice was when I came across an academic paper on reindigenization in which the authors opted to list their entire nation as the primary author–the epitome of rigorous citation in practice.

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“Having spent the past several years intensively studying the development of Gen Z’s online political expression, artist Joshua Citarella points to the emergence of “e-deologies, radical politics as a form of niche personal branding.” In his 2019 report 20 Interviews, Citarella underscores the influence of Political Compass and gaming more generally on ideations of countercultural participation—or what he refers to as a “choose your character / choose your future” mode of “identity play that gained heightened relevance as American politics subsumed all of pop culture” during the mid-2010s.” – Caroline Busta

Today, my notes on divesting from America are tender & encrypted—the most pressing of what I have to say is shaped in a way that English can and will never hold. I am in Los Angeles, jarred by how subtle and internalized empire is, writing this as I sit in the parking lot while my partner is inside the mall getting me Danessa Myricks’ foundation at the Sephora sale — a whole host of somatic contradictions front-of-heart. I will always write about contradiction because I live it — I can indulge in returning home to Kenya because in a blink of an eye I can come back here to the Sephora parking lot. It’s unnatural to say the least. Today my prayer is for better reconciliations.

With Radical Love,

Neema 🖤

*P.S. If you are in the Global South/do not have passport privilege and are interested in a pilgrimage consultation, please send me a message and we can schedule a free one!