Journal articles on the topic 'Tiv (African people)'

Eurhythmics in Dalcroze study is defined as the engagement of human body in rhythmic movement and active listening. Jaques-Dalcroze’s involvement of Eurhythmics in music pedagogy is aimed at securing steady position for the body and mind as well as a calculated and unconstrained expression of rhythm. African indigenous music and dance is predominantly functional with intensive assignation of the body and soul of the participants to satisfy the rhythmic drum patterns provided by the musicians. The teaching of music in traditional African settings may be generally informal, yet deliberate. The training technique of the notable indigenous dances in Nigeria informally employ the Dalcroze Eurhythmics teaching technique in the step by step movement pattern and dynamics employed during their group practices, especially with younger members of the group. Among the various traditional dance found in the Tiv clan of central Nigeria, the Swange dance is purposefully selected for this study to validate the relevance of Dalcroze to indigenous Nigerian culture, with regard to music and movement. This paper employ the ethnographic study approach; it combines participatory and observation research methodologies, theoretical engagement, and ample illustrative style of writing, to portray the everyday complexities of music/dance learning among the people.

The chieftaincy and traditional rulership institution is dynamic and one of the most enduring legacies from traditional African societies. Until the coming of the colonialists, the traditional institution led by chiefs, emirs, obas, Ezes, etc performed legislative and judicial functions as well as political, religious, social and economic roles etc. The chieftaincy and traditional rulership institution among the Tiv was not organised in a systematic manner until the creation of the Tor Tiv stool in 1946. With several reformations, the chieftaincy institution has taken a definite stage in Tiv society. However, the problem of the study has to do with the fact that there has arisen in the Tiv chieftaincy scene; the ator a zan adua (Christian traditional rulers) who rather than protect and preserve Tiv cultural heritage are in the vanguard of the corrosion of a culture they had taken an oath to protect and preserve. If prompt action is not taken by the Tiv, their culture would soon disappear as these ator a zan adua have “churchmentised” and Christianised Tiv culture. As scholars of Tiv History, Religion and Culture, the researchers are alarmed at this cultural imperialism being perpetrated by Tiv traditional rulers. The study adopts the historical, descriptive and evaluative methods. In data collection, the primary and secondary methods have been adopted. In the primary source, oral interviews and the observation methods have been used; whereas in the secondary sources of data collection, documented sources from books, journal articles, newspapers and e-sources have been employed. The study established that by the orientation of ator a zan a dua as Christians, they are on the verge of completely supplanting Tiv culture with a foreign one. The study noted that culture gives an identity to a group of people and without it, they cannot be defined. In view of this challenge, the study made various suggestions as means of preserving and sustaining Tiv cultural heritage for generations yet unborn. One of these suggestions is that traditional rulers in Tiv be made to take their oath of office by Swem (the Tiv symbol of justice) so that when they renege on their oath, they would immediately bear the consequences (death by swollen stomach, limbs and severe headache). The study concluded that Tiv culture must not be sacrificed on the altar of Christianity by anybody not even the ator (traditional rulers).

This paper analyses how gender is constructed by the Tivs through their interpretation of Hamlet in comparison with how Shakespeare projects these characters. Hamlet, a tragic play by Shakespeare, presents a patriarchal system of governance with strong themes of betrayal, love, kinship, religion, and revenge. The lack of agency and autonomy of women, sexual objectification, and their plagues as victims of patriarchy portrayed in Hamlet is a vivid presentation of the fate of women in a patriarchal world. While these may seem universal, the contradictory interpretation of Hamlet by the Tivs in Nigeria demands an inquiry into how the people of Tiv construct and interpret gender in Shakespeare's Hamlet. This paper, therefore, compares the Tiv's culture and gender values with Shakespeare’s Hamlet. The paper argues that the Tiv’s construction of gender contradicts Western conceptions of gruesome patriarchal performance in Africa as presented in Western literature. The analysis revealed that the Tiv’s construction of gender gave more agency, power, and respect to women and differed significantly from how Shakespeare constructed gender in Hamlet. The masculinization of witchcraft and the demeaning of the male characters in Hamlet gave less honour and power to the male characters. Tiv’s interpretations and gender constructions present a rather diverging representation of women in Hamlet based on cultural negotiations and lived experiences; thereby, demonstrating how cultural dynamism shapes gender constructions.

The evolution of digital technology has affected traditional theatre practice in Tiv society just like it has done in many other African societies. Contemporary developments in theatre have marked differences from the theatre of the past due to massive revolution being witnessed in theatre practice. This is based on the changing phases of human development orchestrated by the advancement in digital and information technology around the globe. Notwithstanding is the hybridization of cultures which has brought about far reaching changing norms and forms in traditional performances of all kinds. The introduction of social media and its various platforms to society has transported traditional theatre from the local mode into a digital media which closes the barrier of distance and increases its visibility to a larger audience. Despite some limitations, the prospects are extensive. This paper considers the Tiv Ijov Mbakuv performance from its conduct in the local mode and its transmission to digital platforms on social media. The finding is that, Tiv Ijov Mbakuv performance in the digital media is not a counter-theatre but a theatre that has taken advantage of technological advancement and yet, maintaining the elements of its origin and opening the culture of a people for wider access and appreciation by varied audiences. Therefore, the paper notes that, theatre is part of society, the ever-changing nature of society also demands for changes in theatre forms so as to meet up with the yearnings and privileges of a new society. Ijov Mbakuv performance in the digital media is a response to new social demands.

African economies have long been a matter of concern to anthropologists, not least in the pages of Africa. These economies are situated, somewhat contradictorily, between global settings of financialized capitalism on the one hand and impoverished local arenas where cash-based economic transfers predominate on the other. The more such economies appear to be tied to wider global arenas and operations that place them beyond the reach of ordinary people, the more necessary it is to explore the logics and decisions that tie them inexorably to specific everyday settings.

The euphoria greeting the election of Barack Hussein Obama as the forty-fourth president of the United States seized the popular imagination in Africa, much as it did in the U. S. There was hope and enormous goodwill on the continent, derived from President Obama's special tie to Africa—the dreams from his father that he has translated so eloquently. There was hope that the Obama administration would initiate new policies based on mutual respect, multilateral collaboration, and an awareness that there will be no security unless there is common security—and also that security must be broadly defined, extending beyond the military to include the environment, the economy, and health, as well as political and social rights. Yet as many anticipated, given the enormous and wide-ranging problems confronting the new administration, Africa has not been front and center on its agenda. Although President Obama visited Egypt in June and Ghana in July 2009, only a few months into his presidency, Africa has not become a centerpiece of his foreign policy.In his much-publicized speech in Accra, President Obama lauded Ghana for its “repeated peaceful transfers of power,” declared that “development depends on good governance,” and urged Africans to take responsibility for their continent: “to hold [their] leaders accountable, and to build institutions that serve the people.” He pledged that the United States would support their efforts and committed his administration to opening the doors to African goods and services in ways that previous administrations have not. He pledged $63 billion to a new, comprehensive global health strategy that would promote public health systems and combat HIV/AIDS, malaria, tuberculosis, polio, and other devastating diseases. In the months that followed, he pledged to double American foreign aid to $50 billion a year and to develop a multilateral program to combat hunger.

SUMMARY Language and Development in Africa Development in Africa is often defined in technocratic terms that do not take language into account. Yet, the continent is beset by problems of development that are language-related. The integration of national languages and the full participation of all the population will greatly enhance development in Africa. Over the last three decades, dependency on superimposed international languages to achieve development has proven to be a failure. Instead of leading to national unity, this attitude has contributed to the socioeconomic and political instability of most African nations. The people of Africa are the ones who will make it, or fail to make it, a developed continent. It would be most unwise to force upon them foreign linguistic and cultural models divorced from local realities. RESUMO Lingvoj kaj evoluo en Afriko Evoluon en Afriko oni ofte difinas lau teknokrataj kriterioj, kiuj ne prenas en konsideron la lingvan dimension. Sed la kontinenton sieĝas evoluproblemoj lingvorilataj. La integrigo de naciaj lingvoj kaj la plena partopreno de la tuta logantaro multe fortigos evoluon en Afriko. Tra la pasintaj tri jardekoj, dependo je altruditaj internaciaj lingvoj por atingi evoluon montriĝis malsukcesa. Anstataŭ konduki al nacia unueco, tia aliro kontribuis al la sociekonomia kaj politika nestabileco de plej multaj afrikaj nacioj. La afrikanoj estas tiuj, kiuj igos, au ne igos, Afrikon evoluinta kontinento. Estus tre malsaĝe trudi al ili fremdajn lingvajn kaj kulturajn modelojn malkongruajn al lokaj realoj.

This paper argues that Yorùbá dress codes (fondly called traditional dress) ought to be symbols of both cultural and formal identity. As part of the being of the Yorùbá, dressing represents more than covering human nakedness, it defines the individual just as it symbolizes different things and moods. Colours, designs and functions all serve as symbols. Unfortunately, within these symbolisms the Yorùbá dresses are not generally welcomed as symbols of formal environments (especially nongovernmental corporate offices). Such outfits at best may be allowed as a dress-down. Formal symbolisms of Yorùbá dresses are restricted to political office holders or government functionaries, beyond which cultural attires are reserved for social functions. In other words, corporate dress codes do not give room for normative or psychological recognition of Yorùbá cultural dressing. Although in recent years Africans have given life to very rich indigenous identities, which have begun to re-affirm the functionality of our arts, yet not many people today have tried to relate these to questions of corporate dressing. It is believed that African cultural symbols are better reflected as traditional symbols. The methods of exposition, hermeneutics, conceptual analysis and critical evaluative reasoning are used in this paper to expose on the one hand Yorùbá dress symbolisms and on the other hand to submit that Yorùbá costumes are as formal as wearing a tie and suit to the office. This lends a voice to the recognition and incorporation of Yorùbá garments (and other African cultural dresses) into general formal symbols.

Ask any Civil War historian about the cost of the Civil War and they will recite a host of well-known assessments, from military casualties and government expenditures to various measures of direct and indirect costs. But those numbers are not likely to include an appraisal of the humanitarian crisis and suffering caused by the wartime destruction of slavery. Peace-time emancipation in other regions (the northern U.S., for example) and in other societies (like the British West Indies) certainly presented dangers and difficulties for the formerly enslaved, but wartime emancipation chained the new opportunities and possibilities for freedom to war’s violence, civil chaos, destruction and deprivation. The resulting health crisis, including illness, injury, and trauma, had immediate and lasting consequences for black civilians and soldiers. Although historians are more accustomed to thinking of enslaved people as the beneficiaries of this war, rather than its victims, we cannot assess the cost of this war until we answer two important questions: first, what price did enslaved people have to pay because their freedom was achieved through warfare rather than a peacetime process; and secondly, in this war in which so many Americans paid such a high cost, to what extent did racism inflate the cost paid by people of African descent? In answering these questions, we reconsider this specific war, but we must also tie the U.S. Civil War to a larger scholarship on how wars impact civilians, create refugee populations, and accelerate harsh treatment of people regarded as racial, religious, or ethnic outsiders. We are reminded that war is not an equal-opportunity killer.

Sierra Leone is one of several countries along the Rice Coast of West Africa. Gullah Geechee people live in the coastal region of the United States from Pender County, North Carolina to St. Johns County, Florida. The essential tie between Sierra Leoneans and Gullah Geechee people is rice. The purpose of the article is to present information that assess satisfaction, perceptions, preferences and characteristics of a tour of Gullah Geechee people to Sierra Leone. The study data enabled the analysis and identification of tourist satisfaction, as well as provided understanding of potential trip improvements. Implications from the study bring Sierra Leone into the fold of heritage tours as seen in Ghana and Senegal, people discovering their roots, enabling social investments in developing nations and can be of service to the Government of Sierra Leone.

America has yet to address mass incarceration properly. Here we are in 2022, and America still leads the Nation in the amount of people that are incarcerated. The problem goes well beyond the need to simply lower the number of people who are incarcerated. Yes, the problem is mass incarceration; however, in America, there’s an issue of the criminal justice system being used as a mechanism to profit from those who are arrested and charged with a crime, which creates an added pressure on those who are incarcerated as well as their families. The fact that people of color, specifically African Americans, are disproportionately represented in the amount of people who are incarcerated, implies a racial problem with the justice system in this Country. When you tie together the racial disparity of African Americans incarcerated, and the systematic ways in which the fines and fees associated with incarceration perpetuate financial hardship on individuals whom majority of their crimes were likely financially motivated; it becomes difficult for me to believe this Country’s criminal justice system is not perfectly in the manner in which it is supposed to work. My hope is the articles in this publication will not only make others aware of this issue who were not; but also, lead to the change in which those who have Power over the millions of people who are pushed through the criminal justice system - akin to product on an assembly line - discontinue the for profit aspects of incarceration in America.

There is limited understanding of the dynamic interplay between adolescent girl’s and young women’s (AGYW) disclosure and social support for using oral pre-exposure prophylaxis (PrEP) and adherence. Towards this, we conducted interviews with 42 AGYW enrolled in The Community PrEP Study who exhibited either high or low blood concentrations of tenofovir-diphosphate (TFV-DP) in dried blood spots. Guided by Theories of Practice, interviews and analysis focused on AGYW perspectives and experiences with PrEP disclosure, support and adherence. AGYW with high TFV-DP blood concentrations described larger social support networks and disclosure events. In contrast, those with low TFV-DP blood concentrations described disclosing to fewer people, resulting in limited social support. Participants discussed partner support, however, this support was not described as consequential to adherence, irrespective of TFV-DP levels. Those with high levels of TFV-DP in their blood described the ability to navigate social scrutiny and changes in social support, while those with low levels of TFV-DP in their blood were more likely to question their own continued use of PrEP. To facilitate AGYW’s prevention-effective use of PrEP, expanded skill-building for disclosure and resiliency against changes to social support should be examined as part of PrEP services.

Abstract Background The World Health Organization now recommends the use of typhoid conjugate vaccines (TCVs) in typhoid-endemic countries, and Gavi, the Vaccine Alliance, added TCVs into the portfolio of subsidized vaccines. Data from the Severe Typhoid Fever in Africa (SETA) program were used to contribute to TCV introduction decision-making processes, exemplified for Ghana and Madagascar. Methods Data collected from both countries were evaluated, and barriers to and benefits of introduction scenarios are discussed. No standardized methodological framework was applied. Results The Ghanaian healthcare system differs from its Malagasy counterpart: Ghana features a functioning insurance system, antimicrobials are available nationwide, and several sites in Ghana deploy blood culture–based typhoid diagnosis. A higher incidence of antimicrobial-resistant Salmonella Typhi is reported in Ghana, which has not been identified as an issue in Madagascar. The Malagasy people have a low expectation of provided healthcare and experience frequent unavailability of medicines, resulting in limited healthcare-seeking behavior and extended consequences of untreated disease. Conclusions For Ghana, high typhoid fever incidence coupled with spatiotemporal heterogeneity was observed. A phased TCV introduction through an initial mass campaign in high-risk areas followed by inclusion into routine national immunizations prior to expansion to other areas of the country can be considered. For Madagascar, a national mass campaign followed by routine introduction would be the introduction scenario of choice as it would protect the population, reduce transmission, and prevent an often-deadly disease in a setting characterized by lack of access to healthcare infrastructure. New, easy-to-use diagnostic tools, potentially including environmental surveillance, should be explored and improved to facilitate identification of high-risk areas.

IntroductionSubstantial improvements in viral suppression among people living with HIV (PLHIV) are needed to end the HIV epidemic, requiring extensive scale-up of low-cost HIV monitoring services. Point-of-care (POC) tests for monitoring antiretroviral therapy (ART) adherence and viral load (VL) may be efficient and effective tools for real-time clinical decision making. We aim to evaluate the effects of a combined intervention of POC ART adherence and VL testing compared with standard-of-care on ART adherence, viral suppression and retention at 6 and 18 months post-ART initiation among PLHIV.Methods and analysisSimplifying TREAtment and Monitoring for HIV (STREAM HIV) is a two-arm, open-label, randomised controlled superiority trial of POC urine tenofovir (POC TFV) and VL monitoring in PLHIV. We aim to enrol 540 PLHIV initiating a first-line ART regimen at a public HIV clinic in South Africa. Participants will be randomised 1:1 to the intervention or control arm. Intervention arm participants will receive monthly POC TFV testing for the first 5 months and POC VL testing at months 6 and 12. Intervention arm participants will also receive reflex POC TFV testing if viraemic and reflex HIV drug resistance testing for those with viraemia and detectable TFV. Control arm participants will receive standard-of-care, including laboratory-based VL testing at months 6 and 12. Primary outcomes include ART adherence (TFV-diphosphate concentration) at 6 months and viral suppression and retention at 18 months. Secondary outcomes include viral suppression and retention at 6 months, TFV-diphosphate concentration at 18 months, cost and cost-effectiveness of the intervention and acceptability of the intervention among PLHIV and healthcare workers.Ethics and disseminationSTREAM HIV has received ethical approval from the University of Washington Institutional Review Board (STUDY00007544), University of KwaZulu-Natal Biomedical Research Ethics Committee (BREC/00000833/2019) and Division of AIDS Regulatory Support Center (38509). Findings will be disseminated at international conferences and in peer-reviewed journals.Trial registration numberNCT04341779.

IntroductionSubstantial improvements in viral suppression among people living with HIV (PLHIV) are needed to end the HIV epidemic, requiring extensive scale-up of low-cost HIV monitoring services. Point-of-care (POC) tests for monitoring antiretroviral therapy (ART) adherence and viral load (VL) may be efficient and effective tools for real-time clinical decision making. We aim to evaluate the effects of a combined intervention of POC ART adherence and VL testing compared with standard-of-care on ART adherence, viral suppression and retention at 6 and 18 months post-ART initiation among PLHIV.Methods and analysisSimplifying TREAtment and Monitoring for HIV (STREAM HIV) is a two-arm, open-label, randomised controlled superiority trial of POC urine tenofovir (POC TFV) and VL monitoring in PLHIV. We aim to enrol 540 PLHIV initiating a first-line ART regimen at a public HIV clinic in South Africa. Participants will be randomised 1:1 to the intervention or control arm. Intervention arm participants will receive monthly POC TFV testing for the first 5 months and POC VL testing at months 6 and 12. Intervention arm participants will also receive reflex POC TFV testing if viraemic and reflex HIV drug resistance testing for those with viraemia and detectable TFV. Control arm participants will receive standard-of-care, including laboratory-based VL testing at months 6 and 12. Primary outcomes include ART adherence (TFV-diphosphate concentration) at 6 months and viral suppression and retention at 18 months. Secondary outcomes include viral suppression and retention at 6 months, TFV-diphosphate concentration at 18 months, cost and cost-effectiveness of the intervention and acceptability of the intervention among PLHIV and healthcare workers.Ethics and disseminationSTREAM HIV has received ethical approval from the University of Washington Institutional Review Board (STUDY00007544), University of KwaZulu-Natal Biomedical Research Ethics Committee (BREC/00000833/2019) and Division of AIDS Regulatory Support Center (38509). Findings will be disseminated at international conferences and in peer-reviewed journals.Trial registration numberNCT04341779.

The study was a linguistic examination of the use of lexical cohesive devices in Ngugi Wa Thiong ’O’s Decolonising the Mind- an autobiography. The study was aimed at revealing how Ngugi - an African L2 writer, deployed lexical cohesive devices to achieve cohesion and coherence and how this has contributed to the meaning of his non- fictional essay. The study was guided by the theoretical framework of Halliday’s tripartite metafunctions of language: the ideational, the interpersonal and the textual, with closer inclination to the textual metafunction that deals with text creation. Cohesion is understood in this study as a textual strategy deployed in language use to unify sentences into a text (a unified whole), that renders the speech or writing both readable and meaningful. A total of 29 excerpts, selected from relevant sections of the essay were descriptively analysed. Our analysis revealed that Ngugi made effective use of lexical cohesive devices to tie his text together, thereby succeeded in passing his message clearly to his readers. Our findings also showed a preponderant use of reiteration (near synonym) - 13 times, and repetition -8 times, by the writer, probably to achieve emphasis. Other lexical devices deployed by the writer to achieve various textual and communicative functions include: antonyms 4 times; superordinate/hyponym, 2 times; and complementaries and co-hyponym, 1 each, in crafting his essay, in which he tells a real- life story of his people, his culture and his heritage. Ngugi, by his effective use of cohesive devices along paradigmatic and syntagmatic axis, has demonstrated that an African writer can also, through the medium of biographical writing, project, not only his ideology, but also the exultation of his people, his culture and his inheritance by a skillful and near – native use of the English language. The study made a case for a systematic teaching of cohesive devices at all levels of education as that will improve reading and comprehension and the aver all communicative competence of L2 learners of English.

Before the COVID-19 coronavirus, there were the deadliest diseases, various epidemics, and pandemics in which millions of human races have been killed untimely. It’s a new public health crisis that has been spreading across the world and is threatening. Due to coronavirus, there is a restriction on travel, visa, and large-scale quarantine. An epidemic is a widespread disease in one community at a particular tie whereas a pandemic is spread across continents at the same pace. The rate of infection and death increases is called a pandemic. In 1852 third Cholera in which approximately one million people across the world were killed. From 1889-to 1890 Flu was caused by the influenza virus H3N8 subtype in Russia and spread in North Hemisphere and killing about one million people. From 1910-to 1911 Sixth cholera outbreak in India and disseminated to Eastern Europe, the Middle East, Russia, North Africa and killing about 8 lac people. In 1918 there was Spanish Flu affected over 500 million people and killed nearly the same people affected it. In 1957 Asian flu an avian influenza virus killed about 2 million people. In 1958 there was Hong Kong Flue originated in Asia, the pandemic was virus H3N2 subtype and suspected of an influenza outbreak in 1957, which killed about one million people. The vaccine was introduced. China is the epicenter of the global supply chain of COVID-19 spreading to more than 120 countries around the world in 2019. This virus is spreading faster than its ancestors i.e., SARS-CoV and MERS-CoV but has a lower fatality rate. The paper focuses on the coronavirus spread from its origin and various steps and precautions to be taken to limit the spread of this epidemic. However, the global impact of this COVID is yet uncertain

Background After the first cases of coronaviruses disease 2019 (COVID-19) in China in January 2020, the epidemic spread around the world. Few data are available from Central Africa. We conducted a study to monitor this emerging disease in Gabon, a Central Africa country. Methods In order to set up an epidemiological surveillance of COVID-19 in Gabon, we led molecular investigations on nasopharyngeal and oropharyngeal samples from the 1161 first suspected cases of COVID-19. A Reverse Ttranscriptase Polymerase Chain Reaction (RT-PCR) was performed using primers and probes targeted the E gene and polymerase gene according to the kit Tib-Molbiol. Results We diagnosed the first case of COVID-19 on March, 12 2020. Among those suspected cases, 83 were confirmed cases. There was no significant difference in prevalence of SARS-CoV-2 between age groups (p = 0.14). Seventy-three percent were asymptomatic. The viral loads were significantly higher in the nasopharyngeal samples than in the oropharyngeal samples (p=0.03). There was no significant difference in viral loads between age groups (p=0.9895) and no correlation between clinical symptoms and viral loads (p=0.06042). Conclusion In conclusion, this study provides the first molecular data from Gabon concerning the COVID-19 pandemic. The data showed that most of the infected people were asymptomatic. The viral load was higher in the nasopharyngeal samples.

Indications of the first baptismal endeavors in Nubia can be traced back to the apostolic period. The final baptism of all three Nubian states (Nobatia, Makuria, Alodia) took place in the 6th century. A strong and lasting alliance with Byzantium implied cultural, religious and trade contacts. The historiography is dominated by the theory of the collapse of Nubian- Byzantine ties after the Islamic Conquest of Egypt in the 7th century. The similarity of Nubian society with Byzantine after the seventh century is explained by the theory of memory of Byzantium in Nubia. On the other hand, relying on the Arab-Byzantine sources, the trade relations between Nubia and Byzantium can be traced back to the 10th century. According to Ibn Yahya the Nubians appear as a guard of emperors in Constantinople. The general Byzantine term of the Ethiopians mainly denoted various East African peoples in Byzantine sources. In the tenth century, it is possible to identify Nubians in such mentions.

INTERGROUP relations are of the utmost importance in South Africa where these re- lationships have seriously deteriorated dur- ing the past decade. In this study the focus Is on the communication patterns of Afri- kaans speaking Coloureds and Whites In the Cape Peninsula. These two groups share important facets of a common culture and this aspect should be a major impetus for positive communication between them. This approach proved to be rather simplis- tic and therefore attention is given to the social identity theory and the contact hypothesis to explain the data obtained in the pilot study. Although there are some similarities between the two population groups there are also some differences in the communication patterns. Communica- tion between the two groups takes place primarily in the context of the work situa- tion. Because of the relatively small number of respondants involved in the study no generalized conclusions could be made. It seems, however, that the relationships of different groups of people in a multicultural society will not improve as long as certain measures exist in the society to treat them as totally different entities with different needs and aspirations. This aspect was dis- cussed in depth in the theoretical founda- tion of the study.

Korwo nĩNdemi MathaathiBaba ndagwĩtia kĩrugũNjoke ngwĩtie itimũ na ngo,Riu baba ngũgwĩtia gĩthoomo.Ndegwa rĩu gũititũire,Thenge no iranyihanyiha,Ndiri kĩrugũ ngagwitia,Riu baba ngugwitia gĩthoomo.Maitũ nĩakwĩrĩte kaing,Ona niĩ nĩngũmenyithl˜tie,Ndirĩ kĩrugũ ngagwĩtia,Rĩu baba ngũgwĩtia gĩthoomo.Njamba ĩrĩa nene Kĩnyatta,Rĩu rĩoimĩte Rũraaya,Jomo nĩoimĩte na thoome,Ningĩ Jomo mũthigaani witũ.Njamba ya bata hĩndĩ ĩno,Kaarĩkayo no gĩtboomo,Wambu githĩto gĩthoomo,Baba, niĩno ngakĩina kaarĩ.Njambo cia baba hĩndĩ ĩno,]omo njamba ĩnyuagwo ĩmwe,Jomo mũraata wa andũairũ,Nowe Jotno mũraata wa twana1.1If this were Ndemi and Mathaathi's era,Father, I would plead for a feast,Then demand a spear and a shield,But now, father, I plead for education.Bulls are now depleted,He-goats are also fewer,No banquet shall I ask,Now, father, I plead for education.Mother has often told you,Even I have informed you,No feast shall I demand,Now, father, I plead for education.The courageous warrior Kenyatta,Has now arrived from Europe,Jomo came through open gates,Equally, he was our negotiator,The important warrior of today,His song of joy is education,Is Wambu's honor not education?Father, how then shall I find my joy?Brave warriors of today,We drink to Jomo the fearless one,Jomo, friend of all Black people,And Jomo the friend of children.2Peris Wanjira Gachaũ was eleven years old when she first attended Ngoigo Independent School in 1948. She enjoyed, most of all, singing the songs her teachers taught her and other students concerning the significance of education, stolen Kikuyu land, and the promise of African independence in Kenya. “Our teachers taught us lessons of our history, culture, elders, as well as our future; and we sang in the mornings, in the afternoons, and on our way home from school, everyday.” According to Mrs. Gachaũ, the song Korwo nĩ Ndemi Mathaathi was popular among her classmates and the Kikuyu elders of her community because “everyone understood the importance of education and uhuru.” But this song most likely represented more than education and freedom to the people of Ngoigo. This song also acknowledges the memory of Kikuyu customs, the continuous transformation of Kikuyu tradition to modernity, the changing armature of Kikuyu leadership, and the future negotiation process for communicating with the outside world.

The Israeli-Palestinian conflict has not existed since the beginning of time. Hatem Bazian explores the roots of the conflict, locating the Zionist movement as a settler colonial project under the tutelage of British colonial efforts. Bazian’s text is a look at and beyond first-hand accounts, an investigation of and critical analysis of settler practice in relation to similar texts such as Sari Nusseibeh’s Once Upon a Country: A Palestinian Life, Alan Dowty’s Israel/Palestine, and Ari Shavit’s My Promised Land. Hatem Bazian’s Palestine…it is something colonial is not an introduction to the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. Readers should possess a basic understanding of the conflict and history of the region over the last century. Nor does this text provide the reader with an unbiased look at the timeline of events since the inception of the Zionist movement. Palestine…it is something colonial instead is a rich critique of the Zionist movement and British colonialism. It investigates the way British colonialism influenced Zionism and how Zionism adopted colonial ideas and practices. Bazian locates Zionism as a settler colonialist movement still at work today, which historically planned and systematically executed the removal of Palestinians from their land, with the aid of the United Kingdom and (later) the United States. Bazian examines Ottoman collapse, the colonization of Palestine by the British, Israel’s biblical theology of dispossession, as well as British colonial incubation of Zionism, Zionism as a Eurocentric episteme, the building of Israel through ethnic cleansing, and the Nakba, all of these culminating in legalized dispossession. Throughout the text, Bazian is able to tie each chapter to the present state of affairs and remind the audience of the trauma of a people forcibly removed. Bazian opens with the straightforward assertion that “Palestine is the last settler-colonial project to be commissioned in the late 19th early 20th centuries and still unfolding in the 21st century with no end in sight” (17). In chapter one, “Dissecting the Ottomans and Colonizing Palestine,” Bazian navigates the biased historiography of the fall of the Ottoman empire, linking the collapse of the empire to the colonizing forces of Europe which sought to ensure access to the newly discovered oil in the region as well as to Asia and Africa. Bazian masterfully steers the reader through the history of European intervention, and in particular on behalf of Christians as ethnic minorities in the Middle East. Europe is historically anti-Jewish; at the turn of the century, Zionism was determined to solve Europe’s “Jewish Problem” and maintain a stronghold in the Middle East, he writes. In chapter two, “Israel’s Biblical Theology of Dispossession,” Bazian explores the biblical roots of Zionist ideology. The chapter opens with a discussion of a contemporary Bedouin tribe being expelled in the Negev. Bazian writes that “the biblical text gets transformed into policy by the Zionist state, by which it then normalizes or makes legal the wholesale theft of Palestinian lands and expulsion of the population”(57) using legal documents such as the Levy Report. These policies create “facts on the ground” which lead to “legalized expulsions.” The Bible was central to the historical development of the European Christian supremacist idea of the Holy Land. The loss of the territory conquered during the Crusades ruptured this notion, a break “fixed” through Zionism. In chapter three, “British Colonialism and Incubation of Zionism,”Bazian begins to address British colonialism and Zionism as complementary. Bazian uses primary texts from British political actors of the time, such as Lord Robert Cecil and Lord Balfour, to establish the anti-Semiticinspiration for British actions of the time. Bazian also successfully uses the Hussein-McMahon Correspondence and the Sykes-Picot agreement to establish the double dealings of the British in the Middle East in the early twentieth century. Bazian uses many primary texts in this chapter effectively, though their organization could leave readers confused. Chapter four, “Zionism: Eurocentric Colonial Epistemic,” continues the themes of the prior chapter as the colonial influence is cemented. In this chapter, Bazian explores the subterfuge and the genius propaganda selling Palestine as “a land without a people for a people without a land” along with “making the desert bloom”—as if the indigenous Arab people were not there. Bazian frames this chapter within the Zionist ideology of the peoples living in the land being only a barrier to a Jewish state in Palestine. Bazian uses primary sources (e.g., Herzl) to defend the assertion that the removal of the Palestinian people was always a piece of the Zionist plan. Bazian also includes Jewish critical voices (e.g., excerpts from the reporter Ella Shohat) to establish the European Jewish bias against the indigenous Arab peoples, including Sephardic Jews. Bazian that these biases and the effort to remove Palestinians from their land defined the early Zionist movement and the creation of the state of Israel in chapter five, “Building a State and Ethnic Cleansing.” This chapter draws extensively on primary sources: correspondence, reports, declarations, agreements, commissions, and maps. Bazian struggles to organize these rich resources in a clear fashion; however, his analysis matches the richness of the sources. These sources establish the “legalized” systematic removal of the Palestinians from the land by the Israelis in 1948. In chapter six, “The Nakba,” Bazian uses further legal documents and first-hand accounts to trace the forced removal of Palestinians. He pays homage to the trauma while critically dissecting the process of legalizing ethnic cleansing and peddling the innocence of the Israelis to the rest of the world. Bazian profoundly concludes his chapter with the story of a Palestinian boy who witnessed the mass executions of men and women of his village and marched away from his home. The boy, now a man, closed his story with poignant words that capture the horror of the Nakba: “The road to Ramallah had become an open cemetery” (241). After the land was emptied the new state of Israel needed to legally take possession of the Palestinian-owned property. Chapter seven, “Colonial Machination,” elaborates this process: “the State of Israel is structured to give maximum attention to fulfillment of the settler-colonial project and the state apparatus is directed toward achieving this criminal enterprise” (243). The name “Palestine” is erased as a name for the land and the peoples; former colonial and Ottoman laws were twisted to support a systematic theft of the land. Bazian concludes his book with a look to the future: “What is the way forward and Palestine’s de-colonial horizon?” (276). He lays out the options available for true and lasting peace, discounting out of hand the twostate solution as impossible due to the extent of the settlements in the West Bank. He also dismisses both the options of the removal of Palestinians and the removal of the Jewish people. He instead posits a way forward through a one-state solution, leaving how this is to be done to the reader and the people of Israel/Palestine to determine. Bazian has contributed a full-bodied analysis of primary sources to defend his assertion that Zionism has always been a settler colonial movement with its goal being a land devoid of the indigenous people. The organization of the text, the lack of sectioning in the chapters, and the technical insertion and citation of primary sources could be improved for clearer reading. Bazian thoroughly defends his thesis with tangible evidence that Zionism is something colonial, and has been something colonial from the start. This is a text that complicates the narrative of what colonialism is, what the State of Israel is, and who and what Palestine is, together establishing the book as required reading for understanding nuances of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. Shelby Perez Master’s Divinity Candidate Chicago Theological Seminary

The Israeli-Palestinian conflict has not existed since the beginning of time. Hatem Bazian explores the roots of the conflict, locating the Zionist movement as a settler colonial project under the tutelage of British colonial efforts. Bazian’s text is a look at and beyond first-hand accounts, an investigation of and critical analysis of settler practice in relation to similar texts such as Sari Nusseibeh’s Once Upon a Country: A Palestinian Life, Alan Dowty’s Israel/Palestine, and Ari Shavit’s My Promised Land. Hatem Bazian’s Palestine…it is something colonial is not an introduction to the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. Readers should possess a basic understanding of the conflict and history of the region over the last century. Nor does this text provide the reader with an unbiased look at the timeline of events since the inception of the Zionist movement. Palestine…it is something colonial instead is a rich critique of the Zionist movement and British colonialism. It investigates the way British colonialism influenced Zionism and how Zionism adopted colonial ideas and practices. Bazian locates Zionism as a settler colonialist movement still at work today, which historically planned and systematically executed the removal of Palestinians from their land, with the aid of the United Kingdom and (later) the United States. Bazian examines Ottoman collapse, the colonization of Palestine by the British, Israel’s biblical theology of dispossession, as well as British colonial incubation of Zionism, Zionism as a Eurocentric episteme, the building of Israel through ethnic cleansing, and the Nakba, all of these culminating in legalized dispossession. Throughout the text, Bazian is able to tie each chapter to the present state of affairs and remind the audience of the trauma of a people forcibly removed. Bazian opens with the straightforward assertion that “Palestine is the last settler-colonial project to be commissioned in the late 19th early 20th centuries and still unfolding in the 21st century with no end in sight” (17). In chapter one, “Dissecting the Ottomans and Colonizing Palestine,” Bazian navigates the biased historiography of the fall of the Ottoman empire, linking the collapse of the empire to the colonizing forces of Europe which sought to ensure access to the newly discovered oil in the region as well as to Asia and Africa. Bazian masterfully steers the reader through the history of European intervention, and in particular on behalf of Christians as ethnic minorities in the Middle East. Europe is historically anti-Jewish; at the turn of the century, Zionism was determined to solve Europe’s “Jewish Problem” and maintain a stronghold in the Middle East, he writes. In chapter two, “Israel’s Biblical Theology of Dispossession,” Bazian explores the biblical roots of Zionist ideology. The chapter opens with a discussion of a contemporary Bedouin tribe being expelled in the Negev. Bazian writes that “the biblical text gets transformed into policy by the Zionist state, by which it then normalizes or makes legal the wholesale theft of Palestinian lands and expulsion of the population”(57) using legal documents such as the Levy Report. These policies create “facts on the ground” which lead to “legalized expulsions.” The Bible was central to the historical development of the European Christian supremacist idea of the Holy Land. The loss of the territory conquered during the Crusades ruptured this notion, a break “fixed” through Zionism. In chapter three, “British Colonialism and Incubation of Zionism,”Bazian begins to address British colonialism and Zionism as complementary. Bazian uses primary texts from British political actors of the time, such as Lord Robert Cecil and Lord Balfour, to establish the anti-Semiticinspiration for British actions of the time. Bazian also successfully uses the Hussein-McMahon Correspondence and the Sykes-Picot agreement to establish the double dealings of the British in the Middle East in the early twentieth century. Bazian uses many primary texts in this chapter effectively, though their organization could leave readers confused. Chapter four, “Zionism: Eurocentric Colonial Epistemic,” continues the themes of the prior chapter as the colonial influence is cemented. In this chapter, Bazian explores the subterfuge and the genius propaganda selling Palestine as “a land without a people for a people without a land” along with “making the desert bloom”—as if the indigenous Arab people were not there. Bazian frames this chapter within the Zionist ideology of the peoples living in the land being only a barrier to a Jewish state in Palestine. Bazian uses primary sources (e.g., Herzl) to defend the assertion that the removal of the Palestinian people was always a piece of the Zionist plan. Bazian also includes Jewish critical voices (e.g., excerpts from the reporter Ella Shohat) to establish the European Jewish bias against the indigenous Arab peoples, including Sephardic Jews. Bazian that these biases and the effort to remove Palestinians from their land defined the early Zionist movement and the creation of the state of Israel in chapter five, “Building a State and Ethnic Cleansing.” This chapter draws extensively on primary sources: correspondence, reports, declarations, agreements, commissions, and maps. Bazian struggles to organize these rich resources in a clear fashion; however, his analysis matches the richness of the sources. These sources establish the “legalized” systematic removal of the Palestinians from the land by the Israelis in 1948. In chapter six, “The Nakba,” Bazian uses further legal documents and first-hand accounts to trace the forced removal of Palestinians. He pays homage to the trauma while critically dissecting the process of legalizing ethnic cleansing and peddling the innocence of the Israelis to the rest of the world. Bazian profoundly concludes his chapter with the story of a Palestinian boy who witnessed the mass executions of men and women of his village and marched away from his home. The boy, now a man, closed his story with poignant words that capture the horror of the Nakba: “The road to Ramallah had become an open cemetery” (241). After the land was emptied the new state of Israel needed to legally take possession of the Palestinian-owned property. Chapter seven, “Colonial Machination,” elaborates this process: “the State of Israel is structured to give maximum attention to fulfillment of the settler-colonial project and the state apparatus is directed toward achieving this criminal enterprise” (243). The name “Palestine” is erased as a name for the land and the peoples; former colonial and Ottoman laws were twisted to support a systematic theft of the land. Bazian concludes his book with a look to the future: “What is the way forward and Palestine’s de-colonial horizon?” (276). He lays out the options available for true and lasting peace, discounting out of hand the twostate solution as impossible due to the extent of the settlements in the West Bank. He also dismisses both the options of the removal of Palestinians and the removal of the Jewish people. He instead posits a way forward through a one-state solution, leaving how this is to be done to the reader and the people of Israel/Palestine to determine. Bazian has contributed a full-bodied analysis of primary sources to defend his assertion that Zionism has always been a settler colonial movement with its goal being a land devoid of the indigenous people. The organization of the text, the lack of sectioning in the chapters, and the technical insertion and citation of primary sources could be improved for clearer reading. Bazian thoroughly defends his thesis with tangible evidence that Zionism is something colonial, and has been something colonial from the start. This is a text that complicates the narrative of what colonialism is, what the State of Israel is, and who and what Palestine is, together establishing the book as required reading for understanding nuances of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. Shelby Perez Master’s Divinity Candidate Chicago Theological Seminary

Tiv religion is a traditional religion of the people of Benue State, located in the middle belt of the North Central region of Nigeria. This religion is a unique religion because the religion and the people of this region are exclusively peculiar only to the region. Symbols are basic phenomena in the Tiv religion. Tiv people religion, culture and symbols are synonymous and characteristically outstanding in the Nigerian culture. Symbolism is thus a special feature of its religion for it put them on the world map of culture, religion and tradition. Therefore, symbols play a pivotal role in the transmission, interaction, information dissemination and the interplay between the Tiv people and culture, and it culminates in physical and the spiritual world interaction. In other words, it is the thought process of communication between the physical and metaphysical realms. It creates a link between the finite and the infinite. It serves as a character molding agent, and is an agent of supernatural policing and enforcement of punishment. It also guarantees moral conduct and ethos in the society in which it operates. Its various symbolic arts and expressions symbolizes the present and offer some evidence of divine agencies. It therefore connotes an intertwining of both the spirit and physical realms. It is the evidence of the expression of divine injunctions, codes and ethics, and a mode to reprimand actions as well as serving as an agent of deterrence in the society. The role of the Tiv religion and philosophy cannot be over emphasized. The paper employed a literary descriptive method since the research is qualitative in nature.

This paper from participatory and critical perspectives, attempts a functionalist discourse investigation of the home-grown African dance tradition from a philosophical and sociological praxis. From an experiential vantage position, the thesis of the paper holds strongly that, as art forms, dances in Africa serve various functions; as catalysts for socio-political and economic transformation. Using Swange dance of the Tiv people from Central Nigeria as a paradigm, and from a functionalist point of view, the article sees African dances as contributing a greater part in uncountable ways in a positive transformation of the society. It also sees dance as a domain within the humankind that should be harnessed for greater and positive socio-political dividends. In conclusion, the article holds strongly that the efficacies of these indigenous African dances cannot be over emphasized considering the numerous functions these dances perform towards the socio-political and economic development of the African societies, because most of these dances have often acted as sites for staging various cultural histories as well as formulating ideology.

The culture of a given people is reflected in their literature and language is a medium through which such a culture is expressed. Stylistic analysis of Tange’s The Legitimate Candidate, Shija’s Whispers of Distant Drums, Gar’s The Blood of the Ram, Kwaghchimin’s A Star of Hope, Tijah’s Slow Men at Work and Norya’s The Luminous Flame resonates with unique expressions which express Tivness. The study investigates the significance of semantic devices in the select novels using Style as a Manner of Expression Model. Methodologically, this study used primary and secondary sources of data. The data for analysis are Tivisms in the select novels. Tivisms refer to Tiv words, expressions, exclamations or interjections, phrases and sentences, unique narrative, dramatic and poetic techniques that are used in literary works talk about Tiv people, culture and language. The study shows that Tivisms serve the following purposes: identity construction, multimodality, beautification, speech flavour and local colour. The paper contributes the literature on language use in Nigerian or African literature.

Christianity, from its inception, has always demonstrated a conscious effort to communicate the gospel in ways that engender transformation. Yet the undying presence of African indigenous religious practices amongst evangelised African communities continues to be a worrisome enigma. The goal of this article is to examine the contextualisation practices, successes and failures of early western missionaries, using literary critical analysis of contemporary literature and cultural phenomenological analysis, and to propose approaches to a biblical inculturation of Christianity in contemporary indigenous societies. We focus on the over 100 years of Christianity in northern Nigeria, with particular emphasis on the Tiv of central Nigeria. The author’s research has shown that the relatively long presence of Christian mission work in Nigeria (especially amongst the Tiv) has not significantly altered the world view of the professed adherents of Christian faith, as it remains largely traditional rather than biblical. Consequently, we proposed the adoption of ethno-hermeneutic and community theologising to make for critical contextualisation of Christianity amongst indigenous people. The proposed critical contextualisation, is essential for rooting Christianity in native populations without uprooting them from their cultures, and for ensuring neither the gospel truth claims nor the Christian world view is surrendered to native cultures in the process of indigenising the gospel.Intradisciplinary and/or interdisciplinary implications: This article highlights the importance of a holistic interdisciplinary approach to evangelisation, requiring the interplay of anthropology, missiology, hermeneutics, and dogmatic and exegetical theology.

China is today the biggest development partner to Africa. To reduce the country’s growing influence in the continent, the western media is saturated with negative reports on how the people do business. The Chinese are said to be pursuing imperialist agenda and striking economic and political deals with corrupt and rogue regimes in Africa. This is believed to have corrosive effects on the growth of democratic governance in the continent. These criticisms notwithstanding, the influence of China in Africa has continued to grow. This paper tries to explain the paradoxical situation. African regimes work with the Chinese because the latter treat them with respect and tie no political conditionality to the support given to them. The Chinese also provide African political leaders with infrastructural support under liberal terms. The grassroots African peoples are also favourably disposed towards the Chinese because of their propoor policies and stances. They provide Africans with affordable phones and household appliances; they build roads, live amongst the people and work as equals with them at construction sites. The paper concluded on the note that the western criticism of China in Africa is more in the interest of the developed world than Africa. The western world is advised to treat Africans with better respect if it wants to enjoy the kind of influence that the Chinese are now having in Africa

Culture is a way of life. It is anything that identifies a group of people; it makes them unique or different from others. The most striking symbol of culture is an outfit or attire. What people wear or how they dress (their outfit) projects their cultural identity. The Akan of Ghana and Basotho of Lesotho are typical examples of ethnic groups in Africa whose cultural heritage and identities are epitomised in their outfits. These ethnic groups are proud of their culture and unapologetic in putting on traditional attire or dresses that culturally identify them wherever they may be found. Akan women wear kaba (a top dress) with a slit that is stylishly designed by professional dressmakers using colourful kente (gorgeous) or other textiles and fabrics with matching duku (headgear) and bead ornaments around the neck and the wrist. The men wear colourful kente and joromi (tie-dye) shirts, smocks (fugu), or dashiki made from embroidered natural cotton materials. The Basotho are known for wearing expensive and beautiful Seshoeshoe (named after King Moshoeshoe, the founder of the Basotho nation) and likobo (a blanket made from animal fur) outfits with matching hats (molia-nyeoe). This ethnographic study investigates the raison d’etre for the unapologetic display of cultural outfits among the two African ethnic groups. The study, which employed the qualitative research methods of interviews and observation for data collection, found that the two groups are fond of their uniqueness because of their belief that without culture one is lost. The study concludes that Africa’s rebirth is an encouragement for Africans to project and preserve their heritage and identities.

Photo by Finding Dan | Dan Grinwis on Unsplash We who grew up texting, instant messaging, and emailing are blessed with native fluency in internet slang that varies according to country and language. Growing up in Sub-Saharan Africa, my schoolmates and I particularly loved to say TIA or, “This Is Africa.”[1] Largely popularized through the 2006 film, “Blood Diamond”,[2] TIA was the answer to all of the idiosyncrasies that accompanied living in the middle of the second-largest continent. Pulled over by local traffic police who demand a “cold drink”? TIA. Helped push the school bus out of a massive pothole during monsoon season? TIA. Reached for your Nokia brick only to pull a similarly sized cockroach from your purse? TIA. Largely isolated from the rest of the world, disease hysteria triggered by bird flu, SARS, and MERS passed by Sub-Saharan Africa as a far- off echo – my community was preoccupied with more imminent threats like malaria and cholera. The 2013 Ebola epidemic was the first time I was exposed to the narrow focus and broad indifference with which the wider world regards Africa. Mass hysteria over an “African disease” that threatened US shores exhibited narrow focus[3] while broad indifference manifested as radio silence following the resolution of cases in the US and Europe. The outbreak lasted until 2016 but coverage waned after 2015, when the only Ebola patients outside of Africa were expats shipped home for recovery.[4] As a freshman in college, my new British friends asked whether my family was at risk (they were not) and whether it was safe for me to go home for the holidays (it was). The 2013 outbreak primarily affected West Africa, on the opposite side of the continent. But to my college friends, Africa was a disease-ridden monolith. TIA, that is Africa. To the indifferent journalist, Africa is a convenient narrative device. By refusing to think of parts of Africa as anything other than the whole, we reduce a continent of 54 nations to a single entity – smaller and more manageable. The same occurred at the height of COVID-19 anxieties. As the healthcare systems of “more developed” countries threatened imminent collapse, a cry rattled across the globe: what will the Africans do?[5] Military-enforced lockdowns?[6] Will we have to take care of their citizens again?[7] While catching up with some friends in July 2020, I resisted an eyeroll as an acquaintance, grinning smugly, announced a new Ebola outbreak plaguing Congo.[8] (He probably meant DRC but he did not specify, and I am not sure he knew the difference.) A quick Google search confirmed the news, reported with glee in all major news media.[9] The Zoom call erupted in a flurry of sighs as my friends contemplated the new threat to US soil. Ever the party pooper, I emphasized that the outbreak was nothing new. The Ebola virus takes its name from its eponymous river in the DRC and the Congolese government had only just announced the end to a two-year struggle with Ebola in April.[10] Soon afterwards, the world lost interest; Al-Jazeera posted its last Ebola article on July 25.[11] Concurrently, coverage on ‘Africa’s COVID-19 crisis’ dwindled, eclipsed by worldwide #BLM protests, unrest in Belarus, and the US elections. As the attention on other world events settled, the “developed” world checked in with “poor, underdeveloped” Africa.[12] Despite concerns about cramped South African townships and the veracity of disease reports in Nigeria,[13] the number of COVID-19 cases and death rates in the continent have stayed low.[14] Citing a young population, existing contact-tracing infrastructure, and cross-immunity from other coronaviruses, several published articles analyze Africa’s mortality statistics.[15] Some, as pointed out by Ghanaian journalist, Karen Attiah, strive to paint the successes of African COVID-19 responses with stereotypical images of poverty and instability. After all, TIA. But while the world was not looking, African healthcare systems rallied. Wild poliovirus was completely eradicated from the continent in August.[16] Uganda began developing its own COVID-19 testing kits in May.[17] COVID-19 cases were limited to ten of Africa’s 54 countries while the DRC’s leading Ebola expert[18] reported that the new outbreak was under control.[19]Though there are still economic concerns due to reduced import-export activity between countries, Africa stands strong as second waves in Europe threaten to overrun hospitals.[20] A year from the beginning of the COVID-19 pandemic, the WHO shared concerns of a lack of justice and equality in global vaccine distribution.[21] Higher income countries have had enough stock to vaccinate one fourth of their population, on average, while low income countries are limited to around 1 in 500.[22] However, a headline in CBS News implies that the low vaccination rate in South Africa is due to a domestic class struggle between the rich and poor citizens,[23] rather than an issue of vaccine nationalism. There are some reporters in Western news media, like Peter Mwai who reports for the BBC, who portray African healthcare systems in a balanced way. Seeking out unbiased writers’ articles is the best way to ensure exposure to balanced news. However, this is an exercise that many readers overlook because they depend on headlines for information. The bias is systematic, and the reliability of a few reporters is outweighed by countless examples of careless copy editing. As evidenced by the CBS News clip, quick turnaround time for publishing live television broadcast clips online leads to sloppy research, injecting prejudices in news media. Perhaps it is too early to celebrate. But as Western media spotlights claims that Africa was spared due to herd immunity from previous coronaviruses blazing through poverty-stricken neighborhoods, it does not seem so bad to rebuff the stereotype.[24] The US currently leads in total COVID-19 cases, followed by India, Brazil, and France. South Africa does not even break the top ten. Morocco, next in line, resides comfortably at 32.[25] For the moment, we can be proud. Decades of experience building infrastructure around highly contagious diseases paid off. Many public health officials in African governments acknowledged and addressed COVID-19’s potential early. Aggressive lockdowns were effective in reducing community transmission. This is Africa. [1] Abdullah, Kia. “‘This Is Africa’: Useful Mantra or Ugly Prejudice?” Atlas & Boots. Atlas & Boots, December 24, 2019. https://www.atlasandboots.com/tia-this-is-africa/. [2] Blood Diamond. Blood Diamond Archer Meets Maggie (TIA) This Is Africa. United States: Warner Bros., 2006. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3frHm9hw5bI. [3] Lupkin, Sydney. “Ebola in America: Timeline of the Deadly Virus.” ABC News. ABC News Network, November 17, 2014. https://abcnews.go.com/Health/ebola-america-timeline/story?id=26159719. [4] BBC. “Ebola: Seventh British Health Worker Sent Home.” BBC News. BBC, March 16, 2015. https://www.bbc.com/news/health-31908301. [5] Nyenswah, Tolbert. “Africa Has a COVID-19 Time Bomb to Defuse.” World Economic Forum. World Economic Forum, April 6, 2020. https://www.weforum.org/agenda/2020/04/africa-covid-19-time-bomb-defuse/. [6] Noko, Karsten. “The Problem with Army Enforced Lockdowns in the Time of COVID-19.” Opinions | Al Jazeera. Al Jazeera, April 2, 2020. https://www.aljazeera.com/opinions/2020/4/2/the-problem-with-army-enforced-lockdowns-in-the-time-of-covid-19/. [7] Picheta, Rob. “Coronavirus Pandemic Will Cause Global Famines of 'Biblical Proportions,' UN Warns.” CNN. Cable News Network, April 22, 2020. https://www.cnn.com/2020/04/22/africa/coronavirus-famine-un-warning-intl/index.html. [8] WHO. “Ebola Virus Disease – Democratic Republic of the Congo.” World Health Organization. World Health Organization, July 9, 2020. https://www.who.int/csr/don/26-June-2020-ebola-drc/en/. [9] Fisher, Nicole. “New Ebola Outbreak In Congo Creates Unparalleled Challenges During A Pandemic.” Forbes. Forbes Magazine, August 10, 2020. https://www.forbes.com/sites/nicolefisher/2020/08/10/new-ebola-outbreak-in-congo-creates-unparalleled-challenges-during-a-pandemic/?sh=4f4a88015877.; BBC World Service. “Ebola Virus.” BBC News. BBC, July 17, 2020. https://www.bbc.com/news/topics/cjnwl8q4qj1t/ebola-virus.; Al Jazeera. “'Great Concern' as New Ebola Outbreak Grows in Western DR Congo.” Democratic Republic of the Congo | Al Jazeera. Al Jazeera, July 14, 2020. https://www.aljazeera.com/news/2020/7/14/great-concern-as-new-ebola-outbreak-grows-in-western-dr-congo. [10] Yeung, Peter. “'Enormous Relief' as Ebola Outbreak in DRC to Be Declared Over.” Democratic Republic of the Congo | Al Jazeera. Al Jazeera, April 10, 2020. https://www.aljazeera.com/news/2020/4/10/enormous-relief-as-ebola-outbreak-in-drc-to-be-declared-over. [11] Al Jazeera. “Western DRC Ebola Cases up to 60 as WHO Warns of Funeral Risks.” Democratic Republic of the Congo | Al Jazeera. Al Jazeera, July 20, 2020. https://www.aljazeera.com/news/2020/7/20/western-drc-ebola-cases-up-to-60-as-who-warns-of-funeral-risks. [12] Mobarak, Ahmed Mushfiq, and Rifaiyat Mahbub. “Opinion: What the US Can Learn from How African Countries Handled Covid.” CNN. Cable News Network, November 3, 2020. https://www.cnn.com/2020/11/03/africa/africa-coronavirus-lessons-opinion-intl/index.html.; Makoni, Munyaradzi. “The World Could Learn a Lot from How Africa Is Handling COVID-19.” WIRED UK. WIRED UK, November 2, 2020. https://www.wired.co.uk/article/COVID-19-africa. [13] McKenzie, David. “Africa's Battle against Covid-19 Will Be Won or Lost Here.” CNN. Cable News Network, July 6, 2020. https://www.cnn.com/2020/07/06/africa/western-cape-south-africa-coronavirus-epicenter-intl/index.html.; Peralta, Eyder. “Why Forecasters Can't Make Up Their Mind About Africa And The Coronavirus.” NPR. NPR, June 10, 2020. https://www.npr.org/sections/goatsandsoda/2020/06/10/872789379/why-forecasters-cant-make-up-their-mind-about-africa-and-the-coronavirus. [14] Mwai, Peter. “Coronavirus: What's Happening to the Numbers in Africa?” BBC News. BBC, November 5, 2020. https://www.bbc.com/news/world-africa-53181555. [15] Attiah, Karen. “Opinion | Africa Has Defied the Covid-19 Nightmare Scenarios. We Shouldn't Be Surprised.” The Washington Post. WP Company, September 22, 2020. https://www.washingtonpost.com/opinions/2020/09/22/africa-has-defied-covid-19-nightmare-scenarios-we-shouldnt-be-surprised/.; Lock, Helen. “The UK Has Seen More Deaths From COVID-19 Than the Whole of Africa. Here Are 6 Reasons Why.” Global Citizen. Global Citizen, November 4, 2020. https://www.globalcitizen.org/en/content/uk-more-deaths-covid-19-africa-reasons-why/.; Deutsche Welle. “COVID-19 in Africa: Milder-than-Expected Pandemic Has Experts Puzzled: DW: 14.09.2020.” DW.COM. Deutsche Welle, September 14, 2020. https://www.dw.com/en/covid-19-in-africa-milder-than-expected-pandemic-has-experts-puzzled/a-54918467.; Smith, Chris. “Scientists Can't Explain Puzzling Lack of Coronavirus Outbreaks in Africa.” New York Post. New York Post, September 7, 2020. https://nypost.com/2020/09/04/scientists-cant-explain-puzzling-lack-of-coronavirus-outbreaks-in-africa/?link=TD_mansionglobal_new_mansion_global.11147f181987fd93. [16] Scherbel-Ball, Naomi. “Africa Declared Free of Wild Polio in 'Milestone'.” BBC News. BBC, August 25, 2020. https://www.bbc.com/news/world-africa-53887947. [17] Achan, Jacky. “Dr. Wayengera: The Man behind Uganda's COVID-19 Testing Kits.” New Vision | Uganda News. New Vision, May 30, 2020. https://www.newvision.co.ug/news/1518668/dr-misaki-wayengera-uganda-covid-19-test-kits. [18] Mukwege, Denis. “Jean-Jacques Muyembe Tamfum Is on the 2020 TIME 100 List.” Time. Time, September 23, 2020. https://time.com/collection/100-most-influential-people-2020/5888331/jean-jacques-muyembe-tamfum/. [19] Mwai. “Coronavirus: What's Happening to the Numbers in Africa?” (2020); AFP. “DR Congo's Latest Ebola Outbreak 'under Control.” CGTN Africa. CGTN, October 18, 2020. https://africa.cgtn.com/2020/10/18/dr-congos-latest-ebola-outbreak-under-control/. [20] Dillon, Conor, and Gabriel Borrud. “Belgium's COVID-19 Health Care Collapse: 'It Will Happen in 10 Days': DW: 30.10.2020.” DW.COM. Deutsche Welle, October 30, 2020. https://www.dw.com/en/belgiums-covid-19-health-care-collapse-it-will-happen-in-10-days/a-55451750. [21] Mwai, Peter. “Covid-19 Africa: What Is Happening with Vaccines?” BBC News. BBC, April 8, 2021. https://www.bbc.com/news/56100076. [22] Miao, Hannah. “WHO Says More than 87% of the World's Covid Vaccine Supply Has Gone to Higher-Income Countries.” CNBC. CNBC, April 10, 2021. https://www.cnbc.com/2021/04/09/who-says-poor-countries-have-received-just-0point2percent-of-worlds-vaccine-supply.html. [23] Patta, Deborah. “Protests over ‘Shocking Imbalance’ of COVID Vaccine Distribution in South Africa.” CBS News. CBS Interactive, April 11, 2021. https://www.cbsnews.com/video/protests-over-shocking-imbalance-of-covid-vaccine-distribution-in-south-africa/#x. [24] Harding, Andrew. “Coronavirus in South Africa: Scientists Explore Surprise Theory for Low Death Rate.” BBC News. BBC, September 2, 2020. https://www.bbc.com/news/world-africa-53998374. [25] Worldometers.info. “Coronavirus Cases.” Worldometer. Worldometer, November 9, 2020. https://www.worldometers.info/coronavirus/.

AbstractIntroductionNovel point‐of‐care assays which measure urine tenofovir (TFV) concentrations may have a role in improving adherence monitoring for people living with HIV (PLHIV) receiving antiretroviral therapy (ART). However, further studies of their diagnostic accuracy, and whether results are associated with viraemia and drug resistance, are needed to guide their use, particularly in the context of the global dolutegravir rollout.MethodsWe conducted a cross‐sectional evaluation among PLHIV receiving first‐line ART containing tenofovir disoproxil fumarate at enrolment into a randomized trial in two South African public sector clinics. We calculated the diagnostic accuracy of the Abbott point‐of‐care immunoassay to detect urine TFV compared to liquid chromatography‐tandem mass spectrometry (LC‐MS/MS). We evaluated the association between point‐of‐care urine TFV results and self‐reported adherence, viraemia ≥1000 copies/ml and HIV drug resistance, among people receiving either efavirenz or dolutegravir‐based ART.ResultsBetween August 2020 and March 2022, we enrolled 124 participants. The median age was 39 (IQR 34–45) years, 55% were women, 74 (59.7%) were receiving efavirenz and 50 (40.3%) dolutegravir. The sensitivity and specificity of the immunoassay to detect urine TFV ≥1500 ng/ml compared to LC‐MS/MS were 96.1% (95% CI 90.0−98.8) and 95.2% (75.3−100.0), respectively. Urine TFV results were associated with short (p<0.001) and medium‐term (p = 0.036) self‐reported adherence. Overall, 44/124 (35.5%) had viraemia, which was associated with undetectable TFV in those receiving efavirenz (OR 6.01, 1.27−39.0, p = 0.014) and dolutegravir (OR 25.7, 4.20−294.8, p<0.001). However, in those with viraemia while receiving efavirenz, 8/27 (29.6%) had undetectable urine TFV, compared to 11/17 (64.7%) of those receiving dolutegravir. Drug resistance was detected in 23/27 (85.2%) of those receiving efavirenz and only 1/16 (6.3%) of those receiving dolutegravir. There was no association between urine TFV results and drug resistance.ConclusionsAmong PLHIV receiving ART, a rapid urine TFV immunoassay can be used to accurately monitor urine TFV levels compared to the gold standard of LC‐MS/MS. Undetectable point‐of‐care urine TFV results were associated with viraemia, particularly among people receiving dolutegravir.Trial registrationPan‐African Clinical Trials Registry: PACTR202001785886049.

AbstractBackgroundPoint‐of‐care (POC) lateral flow assays (LFA) to detect tenofovir (TFV) in urine have been developed to measure short‐term ART adherence. Limited data exist from people living with HIV in routine care.MethodsAdults on TFV‐containing regimens, having a routine viral load (VL) at an HIV clinic in Cape Town, South Africa were enrolled in a cross‐sectional study. Patients recalled missed ART doses in the past three and 7 days and urine was tested using a POC TFV LFA. VL on the day was abstracted from medical records.ResultsAmong 314 participants, 293 (93%) had VL <1000 copies/mL, 20 (6%) had no TFV detected and 24 (8%) reported ≥1 missed dose in the past 3 days. Agreement between VL ≥1000 and undetectable TFV was higher compared to 3‐day recall of ≥1 missed dose (Kappa 0.504 vs. 0.163, p = 0.015). The AUC to detect VL ≥1000 was 0.747 (95% CI 0.637–0.856) for undetectable TFV. This was statistically significantly better than for 7‐day recall (0.571 95% CI 0.476–0.666, p = 0.040) but not for 3‐day recall (0.587 95% CI 0.492–0.681, p = 0.071) of ≥1 missed dose.ConclusionIn this largely virally suppressed cohort, TFV in urine had better agreement with VL than self‐reported adherence and was a better predictor of viraemia on two of three self‐report measures. Used in combination with VL, the POC urine TFV LFA could flag patients with viraemia in the presence of ART. Further research is needed to understand the potential application in different populations on ART, including pregnant women.

AbstractRetro-reflective materials are important for safety purposes, such as enhancing the visibility of pedestrians at night when they wear garments with reflective materials and therefore reducing pedestrian fatalities. This has challenged different manufacturers to produce effective materials that provide the best retro-reflection. Most of these materials are applied as stripes on clothing, but can also extend to artisans using reflective yarns in their creations. Nevertheless, there is a lack of research and the synthesis of reflective yarns and African design patterns (due to its symbolic value for the African people) to create effective textiles that have the necessary properties for visibility at night. In this research work, a new approach is adopted by using a design process that combines jacquard weaving technology, reflective threads and African design patterns to produce retro-reflective textiles. The subsequent reflective effects captured in a darkroom show the retro-reflective ability of the samples. The testing carried out by using the Kawabata Evaluation System for Fabrics shows that the total hand value (THV) of the samples makes them suitable for men’s winter dress shirts and women’s thin winter dresses (with positive values) but not suitable for the summer garment (with negative values) counterparts respectively. This new approach might extend the ideation to produce retro-reflective textiles that can be applied for many different uses.

Introduction: The transtheoretical model describes how people modify a problem behavior or acquire positive behaviors. The central construct is the stages of change, where behavior change is a continuum describing readiness to change: precontemplation, contemplation, preparation, action, and maintenance. People progress through these stages at varying rates, often moving back and forth along the continuum before attaining maintenance. We investigated whether urban underserved persons newly hospitalized for stroke or TIA intend to change their stroke prevention behaviors, and their belief about their premorbid behaviors. Methods: Participants in the PROTECT DC Phase II trial of health navigation to improve adherence with secondary stroke prevention behaviors were evaluated. They met the following criteria: atherogenic ischemic stroke or TIA diagnosed within 30 days, resident of the District of Columbia, community dwelling, and able to provide informed consent. Participants were recruited at 4 hospitals, and were interviewed regarding their risk factor management intentions. Results: In 87 participants aged 60.7 ± 12 yrs, the median NIH Stroke Scale score was 2(0-16), 45% were male, 90% were African-American. Long-term (>6 mos) medication adherence was reported by 52%, 7% reported adherence <6mos, and 32% intended to adhere during the next 6 mos. Dietary adherence >6 mos was reported by 26%, and 62% intended to start adherence. Eighty percent intended to learn more about stroke, and 94% of active smokers (30 individuals) intended to quit smoking within 6 months. Discussion: In a sample of urban underserved hospitalized for acute stroke, a large proportion reported the intent to adhere to risk management behaviors or already believed themselves adherent. Our data suggest that this population is quite motivated to engage in the recommended behaviors. Many report adherence to medication, diet and exercise recommendations prior to stroke onset; it is unclear how these perceptions relate to current stroke prevention guidelines. Urban underserved populations are receptive to behavioral changes associated with risk reduction, acute hospitalization may provide an important opportunity to initiate and refine effective stroke prevention behaviors.

Introduction: Stroke mortality is doubled in people of Black African descent compared with Whites, but factors responsible for this excess are unclear. We wished to compare infarct like lesions (ILL) on MRI by ethnicity and the role of risk factors. Methods: SABRE is a UK community based multi-ethnic cohort of men and women aged 40-69 years at baseline (1988-1990), and 58-86 years at follow up (2008-2011). At follow up, a questionnaire was completed and investigations performed including resting and ambulatory BP, anthropometry, and bloods for glucose and lipids. Cerebral MRI scans were scored for infarcts independently by two readers according to the Cardiovascular Health Study protocol. Results: Of 2346 Whites, 684 attended follow up, and 590 completed cerebral MRI. Of 801 Blacks (first generation migrants of Black African descent to the UK), 232 attended clinic and 207 completed MRI. Mortality loss was greater in Whites (605, 25%) than Blacks (121, 15%)(p<0.0001), although stroke was more likely the underlying cause in Blacks (23, 19%), than Whites (43, 7%)(p<0.0001) . Baseline systolic/diastolic BP was similarly higher in Blacks than Whites in attendees (8/5 mmHg), non-responders (7/6 mm Hg), and those who died (8/5 mmHg). At follow up stroke risk factors were adverse in Blacks, apart from smoking ( table ). Prevalence of ILL was similar by ethnicity, not differing when those <65 years were analysed separately, or when those with stroke/TIA history were excluded. Associations between ILL and risk factors did not differ by ethnicity. But prescribed treatment in those with elevated clinic BP (≥140 mmHg systolic, or ≥90 mmHg diastolic) was 83% in Blacks, 63% in Whites (p<0.0001). Further, in those with an ILL, 95% of Blacks, and 69% (p<0.0001) of Whites were on treatment. Conclusion: Equivalence of ILL rates in Blacks and Whites was unanticipated, given the greater stroke mortality in Blacks. Mitigating against selective mortality as the explanation of our findings is the similar ethnic differential in baseline BP in survivors and non-survivors, the lower overall mortality in Blacks, and overall small numbers of stroke deaths. A more likely explanation is that better targeted more aggressive treatment is now occurring in Blacks than Whites, reducing their potential burden of ILL.

Abstract Poster session 2, September 22, 2022, 12:30 PM - 1:30 PM Background The inhalation of the thermally dimorphic fungus Histoplasma capsulatum, may result in a wide spectrum of clinical manifestations, ranging from asymptomatic to acute or chronic pulmonary infection to disseminated infection. Symptomatic infections usually occur with high-level exposures or in immunocompromised patients mainly people with HIV. Despite the improved access to antiretroviral therapy, HIV-associated histoplasmosis remains a significant opportunistic infection in endemic regions including Africa. Unfortunately, histoplasmosis is rarely on the diagnostic radar of clinicians in several African countries such as Ghana due to insufficient awareness, inadequate epidemiological data, and poor fungal diagnostic capacity. Herein, we present a case of disseminated histoplasmosis in an HIV/AIDS patient in a tertiary hospital in Ghana. Case Presentation Clinical history: A 43-year-old female was referred to the Dermatology Clinic of the Komfo Anokye Teaching Hospital (KATH) with symptoms of fever, cough, and anorexia. She had a history of a skin rash six weeks prior, which initially began on her face and later spread to the trunk and extremities. She was a known HIV/AIDS patient on anti-retroviral drugs (EFV, TFV, 3TC) with no other chronic conditions. She was anemic with a previous hemoglobin level of 7.6 g/dl. Initial diagnostic workup for cutaneous bacterial or viral infection detected no abnormality. Examination She was semi-conscious, and her nostrils were clogged with crust. The patient appeared pale, warm, and anicteric. The face, trunk, and extremities (including palms) were covered with mucocutaneous erosions, ulcers, multiple papule plaques, and nodules. Examination of the cervix revealed the presence of lymph nodes. Investigations A fungal diagnostic work-up was done to rule out cutaneous or disseminated mycosis particularly cryptococcosis which was previously captured as a differential diagnosis. Serum cryptococcal antigen lateral flow assay (LFA) (CrAg LFA, IMMY) and Aspergillus galactomannan (GM) (sona Aspergillus GM LFA, IMMY) tests were both negative, but urine Histoplasma GM enzyme immunoassay (EIA) (clarus Histoplasma GM EIA, IMMY) test was positive with a very high optical density indicating high fungal burden was reported. A skin biopsy was also sent for histopathology and fungal culture. Histopathology analysis revealed the presence of yeast cells with round central nuclei and cytoplasmic clearing. Special staining with Periodic acid–Schiff (PAS) confirmed the presence of yeast cells, suggestive of histoplasmosis. Fungal culture was however negative after 8 weeks of incubation. A diagnosis of disseminated histoplasmosis was made. Treatment and outcome The patient was administered 200 mg bid of itraconazole. Few weeks after treatment, most of her skin lesions and ulcers were healed. The patient was discharged on itraconazole after the disappearance of some of her lesions. Few weeks later, the patient was admitted but died due to complications of anemia. Conclusion Disseminated histoplasmosis in HIV may be a relatively common but largely unrecognized condition in Ghana. This case report highlights the need to improve awareness of histoplasmosis among clinicians in Ghana and enhance laboratory capacity to provide timely simple contemporary fungal tests for rapid diagnosis and prompt initiation of effective antifungal agents.

I examine the preference for children under engagement à temps (indenture) in Senegal, especially the Senegal River Valley, in the 1820s. In the late 1810s and early 1820s, Senegal’s administrators wished to build cotton and indigo plantations in the Senegal River Valley to replace profits lost after the turbulence of the Age of Revolutions, especially the loss of colonial Haiti, which had been France’s most profitable colony. However, France’s 1817 prohibition of the slave trade signaled to administrators that they would have to obtain non-enslaved workers for the plantations they wished to build. Thus, they created rachat (redemption) and engagement à temps. Under this system, Senegal’s administrators, colonists, and habitants bought captives on African slave markets, “redeemed” the captive from slavery, then forced a fourteen-year engagement à temps contract on the individual with the promise of eventual “freedom” from servitude. Senegal’s administrators, especially Governor Jacques François Roger, prioritized obtaining children, whom they defined as anyone under the age of sixteen, for this practice because they saw children as a docile labor force which would more easily take root in the colony, especially in its nascent plantation sector. By acquiring children, Roger hoped to create highly coercible workers committed to agriculture who would not abandon the plantations after the expiration of their contracts. Using correspondence among Senegal’s administrators, I trace the reasoning behind the preference for people under the age of sixteen, in addition to the two primary mechanisms used to acquire children. The first mechanism was rachat. An examination of rachats registered at Bakel in 1825, located in the notarial archives of St Louis at the Archives nationales du Sénégal, reveals that 59.5 per cent of rachats involved people under the age of sixteen. Second, the September 28, 1822 decree that regulated engagement à temps in the colony stated that any child born to a mother working as an engagée à temps had to work for the mother’s engagiste until the age of twenty-one, the age of majority in French legislation, in exchange for the care they had received in childhood. While this group of children did not experience rachat, the law enabled administrators to take advantage of their physical labor in addition to the reproductive labor of their mothers. I argue that the abolition of the slave trade forced French administrators, colonists, and habitants in 1820s Senegal to envision new ways to build a stable laboring population for the plantation economy they hoped to build along the Senegal River; because of free labor shortages in the region, rachat and engagement à temps appeared to be a solution. Children, seen as malleable and more coercible than adults, came to be seen as a key component of this workforce because administrators and colonists hoped they would grow up to be adults loyal to the French colonial economy. I also argue that historiographical methodologies pioneered by scholars of gender and reproduction under Atlantic slavery provide a useful way of grappling with the perspectives of people forced into engagement à temps. Overall, a focus on the importance of children to engagement à temps allows us to probe the continuities that tie together slavery and the slave trade, on the one hand, and on the other, the forced labor practices proliferated alongside abolition.

AbstractCommon discourse in public health and preventive medicine frames non-communicable diseases, including cardiovascular and metabolic diseases, as diseases of ‘lifestyle’; the choice of terminology implies that their prevention, control and management are amenable to individual action. In drawing attention to global increases in the incidence and prevalence of non-communicable disease, however, we increasingly observe that these are non-communicable diseases of poverty. In this article, we call for the reframing of discourse to emphasize the underlying social and commercial determinants of health, including poverty and the manipulation of food markets. We demonstrate this by analysing trends in disease, which indicate that diabetes- and cardiovascular-related DALYS and deaths are increasing particularly in countries categorized as low-middle to middle levels of development. In contrast, countries with very low levels of development contribute least to diabetes and document low levels of CVDs. Although this might suggest that NCDs track increased national wealth, the metrics obscure the ways in which the populations most affected by these diseases are among the poorest in many countries, and hence, disease incidence is a marker of poverty not wealth. We also illustrate variations in five countries — Mexico, Brazil, South Africa, India and Nigeria — by gender, and argue that these differences are associated with gender norms that vary by context rather than sex-specific biological pathways.We tie these trends to shifts in food consumption from whole foods to ultra-processed foods, under colonialism and with continued globalization. Industrialization and the manipulation of global food markets influence food choice in the context of limited household income, time, and household and community resources. Other factors that constitute risk factors for NCDs are likewise constrained by low household income and the poverty of the environment for people with low income, including the capacity of individuals in sedentary occupations to engage in physical activity. These contextual factors highlight extremely limited personal power over diet and exercise. In acknowledging the importance of poverty in shaping diet and activity, we argue the merit in using the term non-communicable diseases of poverty and the acronym NCDP. In doing so, we call for greater attention and interventions to address structural determinants of NCDs.

O conhecimento popular do uso de plantas medicinais e místicas foi construído ao longo dos tempos, sendo a coleta destas informações fundamentais para se obter e resgatar o conteúdo de aspectos culturais, muitas vezes específicos de cada local e importantes para o uso coerente das plantas. O presente trabalho objetivou conhecer as plantas de uso medicinal e místico na Comunidade de São Benedito, descendentes da ex-escrava, ‘tia Eva’, bem como a verificação da identidade botânica, nomes populares e usos terapêuticos de cada uma, evitando a perda destes conhecimentos e utilizando-os para fornecer subsídios em pesquisas na área farmacológica, além de corrigir informações sobre plantas de identidade e usos incertos. Os dados foram registrados em pequenos cadernos, com a prévia autorização dos entrevistados. As pessoas escolhidas para pesquisa foram indicadas dentro da própria comunidade por deterem sob seu domínio um maior conhecimento neste assunto. As plantas levantadas foram coletadas, quando possível, e identificadas em laboratório. Ao total foram citadas 182 etnoespécies, tendo sido identificadas 125 espécies distribuídas em 58 famílias. As espécies mais citadas foram a Petiveria alliacea L. e a Momordica charantia L., trazidas para ao Brasil pelos africanos. Foi elaborado e distribuído um folheto e uma muda de Confrei (Symphytum officinale L.) para cada morador da comunidade, conforme o acordo firmado com a liderança comunitária do local. O folheto trouxe informações científicas à respeito do uso, aplicação e cultivo de 27 espécies citadas pela comunidade. ABSTRACT The popular knowledge of the use of medicinal and mystic plants was buit along the times, being the colletion of these information, fundamental to obtain and to rescue the content of cultural aspects, specific of each place and important for to coherent use the plants. The present work objectified to know the plants of medicinal an mystic use in São Benedito’s community, descendants of slave absolved ‘Aunt Eva’, as well as the verification of the botanical identity, popular names and terapeutic uses of each one, avoiding the loss of these knowledge and using them to supply subsidies in researches in the pharmacological area, besides correcting information on the identity of plants and uncertain uses. The data were registered in small notebooks, with the interviwees’ previous authorization. The people chosen for research were from the community and also had under their domain a larger knowledge in this subject. The lifted up plants were colect, when possible, and identified in laboratory.To the total of 182 ethno-species mentioned, 125 species have been identified and distributed into 58 families. The most mentioned species were Petiveria alliacea L. and the Momordica charantia L., brought to Brazil by Africans. It was elaborated and distributed a pamphlet and a confrei scion (Symphytum officinale L.), for each inhabitant of the community, according to the agreement with the community leadership of the place. The pamphlet brought scientific information regarding the use, application and cultivation of 27 species mentioned by the community.

Murray Forman’s text The ‘Hood Comes First: Race, Space, and Place in Rap and Hip-Hop provides insightful commentary on the workings of and relationship between place and space. To highlight the difference of scale between these two parameters, he writes that, “place defines the immediate locale of human interaction in the particular, whereas space is the expanse of mobile trajectories through which subjects pass in their circulation between or among distinct and varied places” (25). This statement reflects Doreen Massey’s earlier observation from her book Space, Place, and Gender that “one view of a place is as a particular articulation” of the spatial (5). These descriptions clarify how human action shapes, and is shaped by, what Forman describes as the “more narrowly circumscribed parameters” of place (25) and the broader realm of space. Clearly, these two terms describe interconnected components that are socially constructed and dynamic: that is, they operate at different scales but are constructed in time, constantly reshaped by human action and perception. “Space and time are inextricably interwoven,” states Massey. She continues: “It is not that the interrelations between objects occur in space and time; it is these relationships themselves which create/define space and time” (261). If place and space represent different scales of social interaction and space and time are interconnected, place and time must be linked as well.While this indicates that human experience and representation operate on different scales, it is important to note that these two factors are also interrelated. As Stuart Hall writes, “[I]t is only through the way in which we represent and imagine ourselves that we come to know how we are constituted and who we are” (473). There is no objective experience, only that which is subjectively represented through various means. Through depictions of these relationships between place, space, and time, rap music shapes listeners’ comprehension of these parameters. DJs, MCs, producers, and other creative artists express personal observations through the influence of both the local and global, the past and present. In rap lyrics and their musical accompaniment, countries, cities, neighbourhoods, and even specific government housing developments inform the music, but the identities of these places and spaces are not fixed – for the performers or for the audience. They are more than the backdrop for what happens, inanimate structures or coordinates of latitude and longitude. Their dynamic nature, and their representation in music, serves to continually redefine “how we are constituted and who we are” (473).In MC Solaar’s Léve-toi et Rap from his 2001 album Cinquième as and his song Nouveau Western, from 1994’s Prose Combat, this is demonstrated in two very different ways. Léve-toi et Rap, a personal history told in the first person, clearly demonstrates both American hip-hop lineage and the transnational influences of Solaar’s upbringing. This song serves as an example of the adoption of American musical and lyrical techniques as means through which personally empowering, often place-based stories are told. In Nouveau Western, the narrative demonstrates the negative effects of globalization through this story about a geographically and temporally transported American cowboy. This track employs musical materials in a way that reflects the more critical lyrical commentary on the repercussions of American cultural and economic power. Through the manner of his storytelling, and through the stories themselves, MC Solaar explicitly demonstrates his own agency in representing, and thus constructing the meaning of, dynamic place and space as they are defined from these two perspectives.As a Paris-based French rapper, MC Solaar often makes his affiliation to this geographic focal point significant in his lyrics. This is especially clear in Léve-toi et Rap, in which Parisian banlieues (HLM government housing projects), nightclubs, and other places figure prominently in the text. From the lyrics, one learns a great deal about this rapper and his background: MC Solaar was born in Senegal, but his parents brought him to France when he was young (MC Solaar, “Léve-toi et Rap”; Petetin, 802, 805). He grew up struggling with the isolation and social problems of the banlieues and the discrimination he faced as an immigrant. He began rapping, established a musical career, and now encourages others to rap as a means of making something constructive out of a challenging situation. In the excerpt below, MC Solaar explains these origins and the move to the banlieues (Solaar, “Lève-toi et rap;” All translations by the author).Lève-toi et rap elaborates on the connection between the local and global in rap music, and between place, space, and time. The lyrics and music represent these properties in part by appropriating American rap’s stylistic practices. The introductory chorus incorporates sampled lyrics of the American artists Lords of the Underground, the Beastie Boys, Nas, and Redman (Various Contributors, “‘Lève-toi et rap’ Direct Sample of Vocals/Lyrics,” whosampled.com.). A bassline originally recorded by the funk group The Crusaders grounds the musical accompaniment that begins with the first verse (partially printed above), in which MC Solaar begins to depict his own place and space as he has experienced it temporally.In this chorus, the first sample is “I remember way back in the days on my block” from Lords of the Underground’s song Tic-Toc. This leads to “Oh My God” and “Ah, Ah, Ah,” both samples from Q-Tip’s contribution to the Beastie Boys’ song Get It Together. “I Excel,” which appears in Nas’s It Ain’t Hard to Tell comes next. The last sample, “Who Got the Funk,” is from Can’t Wait by Redman (Lords of the Underground, “Tic-Tic;” Beastie Boys and Q-Tip, “Get It Together;” Nas, “It Ain’t Hard to Tell;” The Crusaders, “The Well’s Gone Dry”).Scratching begins the introductory chorus (printed below), which ends with a voice announcing “MC Solaar.” At this point, the sampled bassline from The Crusaders’ 1974 song The Well’s Gone Dry begins.[Scratching]I remember back in the days on my block... Lords of the UndergroundOh my God... Ah, Ah, Ah... Beastie Boys and Q-TipI excel… NasWho got the funk... RedmanMC Solaar[Crusaders sample begins] The rap samples all date from 1994, the year Solaar released his well-received album Prose Combat and most are strategically placed: the first sample originated in the last verse of Tic-Toc, the Q-Tip samples in the middle are from the middle of Get It Together, and the last sample, “I Excel,” is from the first line of It Ain’t Hard to Tell. As Lève-toi et rap continues, MC Solaar’s statement of the song title itself replaces the iteration “MC Solaar” of the first chorus. In a sense, “Lève-toi et rap” becomes the last sample of the chorus. Through these American references, Solaar demonstrates an affiliation with the place in which rap is commonly known to have originally coalesced. For French rappers consciously working to prove their connection to rap’s lineage, such demonstrations are useful (Faure and Garcia, 81-82). Achieved by sampling music and lyrics from 1974 and 1994 from sources that are not all that obvious to a casual listener, Solaar spatially connects his work to the roots of rap (Shusterman, 214). These particular samples also highlight a spatial relationship to particular styles of rap that represent place and space in particular ways. Nas and Lords of the Underground, for instance, have added to the discourse on street credibility and authenticity, while Q-tip has provided commentary on social and political issues. MC Solaar’s own story widens the parameters for illustrating these concepts, as he incorporates the personally significant places such as Senegal, Chad, and the Saint Denis banlieue to establish street credibility on a transnational scale; the lyrics also describe serious social and political issues, including the “skinheads” he encountered while living in Paris. Dynamic place is clear throughout all of this, as everything occurring in these places is meaningful in part because of the unavoidable relationship with the passing of time – Solaar’s birth, his upbringing, and his success occurred through his choices and social interactions in specific places.Looking more closely at the representation of place and time, Lève-toi et rap is less than straightforward. As discussed previously, some of the vocal samples are rearranged, demonstrating purposeful alteration of pre-recorded material; in contrast, the use of a repeated funk bassline sample during a clear narrative of Solaar’s life juxtaposes a linear story with a non-linear musical accompaniment. To this, MC Solaar made a contemporary textual contribution to later choruses, with the title of the song added as the chorus’s last line. Such manipulation in the context of this first-person narrative to express this movement supports the conclusion that, far from being a victim of political and economic forces, MC Solaar has used them to his advantage. After all, the title of the song itself, Lève-toi et rap, translates roughly to “get up and rap.”In addition to manipulating the materials of American rap and funk for this purpose, Solaar’s use of verlan, a type of slang used in the banlieues, brings another level of locality to Lève-toi et rap. The use of verlan brings the song’s association with French banlieue culture closer: by communicating in a dialect fluently understood by relatively few, rappers ensure that their message will be understood best by those who share the constellation of social and temporal relations of these housing developments (Milon, 75). Adding verlan to other slang and to unique grammatical rules, the rap of the banlieues is to some extent in its own language (Prévos, “Business” 902-903).Referring to MC Solaar’s 1994 album Prose Combat, André Prévos observed that this material “clearly illustrates the continuity of this tradition, all the while adding an identifiable element of social and personal protest as well as an identifiable amount of ‘signifying’ also inspired by African American hip-hip lyrics” (Prévos, “Postcolonial” 43). While it is clear at this point that this is also true for Lève-toi et rap from Cinquème as, Nouveau Western from Prose Combat demonstrates continuity in different way. To start, the samples used in this song create a more seamless texture. A sample from the accompaniment to Serge Gainsbourg’s Bonnie and Clyde from 1967 undergirds the song, providing a French pop reference to a story about an American character (Various Contributors, “Nouveau Western” whosampled.com). The bassline from Bonnie and Clyde is present throughout Nouveau Western, while the orchestral layer from the sample is heard during sections of the verses and choruses. Parts of the song also feature alto saxophone samples that provide continuity with the jazz-influenced character of many songs on this album.The contrasts with Lève-toi et rap continue with the lyrical content. Rather than describing his own process of acquiring knowledge and skill as he moved in time from place to place, in Nouveau Western MC Solaar tells the story of a cowboy named “Harry Zona” who was proud and independent living in Arizona, hunting for gold with his horse, but who becomes a victim in contemporary Paris. In the fabled west, the guns he carries and his method of transportation facilitate his mission: Il erre dans les plaines, fier, solitaire. Son cheval est son partenaire [He wanders the plains, proud, alone. His horse is his partner.]. After suddenly being transported to modern-day Paris, he orders a drink from an “Indian,” at a bistro and “scalps” the foam off, but this is surely a different kind of person and practice than Solaar describes Harry encountering in the States (MC Solaar, “Nouveau Western”).After leaving the bistro, Harry is arrested driving his stagecoach on the highway and shut away by the authorities in Fresnes prison for his aberrant behaviour. His pursuit of gold worked for him in the first context, but the quest for wealth advanced in his home country contributed to the conditions he now faces, and which MC Solaar critiques, later in the song. He raps, Les States sont comme une sorte de multinationale / Elle exporte le western et son monde féudal / Dicte le bien, le mal, Lucky Luke et les Dalton [The States are a kind of multinational”/ “They export the western and its feudal way/ Dictate the good the bad, Lucky Luke and the Daltons] (MC Solaar, “Nouveau Western”).Harry seems to thrive in the environment portrayed as the old west: as solitary hero, he serves as a symbol of the States’ independent spirit. In the nouveau far west [new far west] francophone comic book characters Lucky Luke and the Daltons sont camouflés en Paul Smith’s et Wesson [are camouflaged in Paul Smith’s and Wesson], and Harry is not equipped to cope with this confusing combination. He is lost as he negotiates le système moderne se noie l’individu [the modern system that drowns the individual]. To return to Bonnie and Clyde, these ill-fated and oft-fabled figures weren’t so triumphant either, and in Gainsbourg’s song, they are represented by 1960s French pop rather than by even a hint of local 1930s musical traditions. “Harry Zona” is not the only person whose story unfolds through the lens of another culture.While Solaar avoids heavy use of verlan or other Parisian slang in this song, he does use several American cultural references, some of which I have already mentioned. In addition, the word “western” refers to western movies, but it also serves as another term for the United States and its cultural exports. “Hollywood” is another term for the west, and in this context MC Solaar warns his listeners to question this fictional setting. Following his observation that John Wayne looks like Lucky Luke, “well groomed like an archduke,” he exclaims Hollywood nous berne, Hollywood berne! [Hollywood fooled us! Hollywood fools!]. This is followed by, on dit gare au gorille, mais gare à Gary Cooper [as they say watch out for the gorilla, watch out for Gary Cooper]. Slick characters like the ones Gary Cooper played have ultimately served as cultural capital that has generated economic capital for the “multinational” States that Solaar describes. As Harry moves “epochs and places,” he discovers that this sort of influence, now disguised in fashion-forward clothing, is more influential than his Smith and Wesson of the old west (MC Solaar, “Nouveau Western”).It is important to note that this narrative is described with the language of the cultural force that it critiques. As Geoffrey Baker writes, “MC Solaar delves into the masterpieces and linguistic arsenal of his colonizers in order to twist the very foundations of their linguistic oppression against them” (Baker, 241). These linguistic – and cultural – references facilitate this ironic critique of the “new Far West”: Harry suffers in the grip of a more sophisticated gold rush (MC Solaar, “Nouveau Western”).Lève-toi et rap transforms musical and verbal language as well, but the changes are more overt. Even though the musical samples are distinctly American, they are transformed, and non-American places of import to MC Solaar are described with heavy use of slang. This situates the song in American and French cultural territory while demonstrating Solaar’s manipulation of both. He is empowered by the specialized expression of place and space, and by the loud and proud references to a dynamic upbringing, in which struggle culminates in triumph.Empowerment through such manipulation is an attractive interpretation, but because this exercise includes the transformation of a colonizer’s language, it ultimately depends on understanding rap as linked to some extent to what Murray Forman and Tricia Rose describe as “Western cultural imperialism” (Rose, 19; Forman, 21). Both Rose and Forman point out that rap has benefitted from what Rose describes as “the disproportionate exposure of U.S. artists around the world,” (Rose, 19) even though this music has provided an avenue through which marginalized groups have articulated social and political concerns (Rose, 19; Forman 21). The “transnational circulation of contemporary culture industries” that Forman describes (21) has benefitted multinational corporations, but it has also provided new means of expression for those reached by this global circulation. Additionally, this process has engendered a sense of community around the world among those who identify with rap’s musical and lyrical practices and content; in many cases, rap’s connection to the African diaspora is a significant factor in the music’s appeal. This larger spatial connection occurs alongside more locally place-based connections. Lève-toi et rap clearly manifests this sense of simultaneously negotiating one’s role as a global citizen and as an individual firmly grounded in the place and space of local experience.Even though rap has been a music of resistance to hegemonic social and economic forces for people around the world, it is nonetheless important to recognize that the forces that have disseminated this music on a global scale have contributed to the unequal distribution of wealth and power. Working within this system is almost always unavoidable for rappers, many of whom criticize these conditions in their music, but depend on these transnational corporations for their success. Paul A. Silverstein writes that “hip-hop formations themselves, while enunciating an explicit critique of both state interventionism and the global market, have directly benefited from both and, to be sure, simultaneously desire their end and their continuation” (47-48). This is very clear in Nouveau Western, which Silverstein writes “portrayed neo-liberalism as a ‘new Far West’ where credit cards replace Remingtons.” (48) That this critique has reached a large audience in the francophone world and elsewhere highlights the irony of the situation: under the current system of popular musical production and circulation, such material often must reach its audience through complicity with the very system it denounces. This view on the mixture of the local and global presented in these songs illustrates this confusing situation, but from another perspective, the representation of social interaction on varying scales connects to the factors that have contributed to rap since its inception. Local places and geographically broad spatial connections have been articulated in constantly changing ways through musical and lyrical sampling, original lyrical references, and the uses that creators, listeners, and the industry enact vis-à-vis global rap culture. Whether revealed through clear references to American rap that facilitate a personal narrative or through a more complicated critique of American culture, MC Solaar’s songs Lève-toi et rap and Nouveau Western expose some accomplishments of a French rapper whose work reveals personal agency both outside and within the “multinational” United States. ReferencesBaker, Geoffrey. “Preachers, Gangsters, Pranksters: MC Solaar and Hip-Hop as Overt and Covert Revolt.” The Journal of Popular Culture 44 (2011): 233-54.Beastie Boys and Q-Tip. “Get It Together.” Ill Communication. Grand Royal Records, 1994. CD.Faure, Sylvia, and Marie-Carmen Garcia. “Conflits de Valeurs et Générations.” Culture Hip Hop Jeunes des Cités et Politiques Publiques. Paris: La Dispute SNÉDIT, 2005. 69-83. Forman, Murray. “Space Matters: Hip-Hop and the Spatial Perspective.” The ‘Hood Comes First: Race, Space and Place in Rap and Hip-Hop. Middletown: Wesleyan UP, 2002. 1- 34. Hall, Stuart. “What Is This ‘Black’ in Black Popular Culture?” Critical Dialogues in Cultural Studies, Edited by David Morley and Kuan-Hsing Chen. London: Routledge, 1996. 465-475. Lords of the Underground. “Tic-Tic.” Keepers of the Funk. Pendulum Records, 1994. CD.Massey, Doreen. Space, Place and Gender. Minneapolis: U of Minnesota Press, 1994. 19-24.Milon, Alain. “Pourquoi le Rappeur Chante? Le Rap comme Expression de la Relégation Urbaine.” Cités 19 (2004): 71-80.MC Solaar (Claude M’Barali). “Lève-toi et rap.” Cinquème as. Wea International, 2001. CD.———. “Nouveau Western.” Prose Combat. Cohiba, 1994. CD.Nas. “It Ain’t Hard to Tell.” Illmatic. Columbia Records, 1994. CD.Petetin, Véronique. “Slam, Rap, et ‘Mondialité.” Études 6 (June 2009): 797-808.Prévos, André J.M. “Le Business du Rap en France.” The French Review 74 (April 2001): 900-21.———. “Postcolonial Popular Music in France.” Global Noise: Rap and Hip-Hop outside the USA. Ed. Tony Mitchell. Middletown: Wesleyan UP, 2001. 39-56. Rose, Tricia. Black Noise: Rap Music and Black Culture in Contemporary America. Middletown: Wesleyan UP, 1994.Shusterman, Richard. “L’Estitique Postmoderne du Rap.” Rue Deseartes 5/6 (November 1992): 209-28.Silverstein, Paul A. “‘Why Are We Waiting to Start the Fire?’: French Gangsta Rap and the Critique of State Capitalism.” Black, Blanc, Beur: Rap Music and Hip-Hop Culture in the Francophone World. Ed. Alain-Philippe Durand. Oxford: Scarecrow Press, 2002. 45-67. The Crusaders. “The Well’s Gone Dry.” Southern Comfort. ABC/Blue Thumb Records, 1974. CD.Various Contributors. “‘Lève-toi et rap’ Direct Sample of Vocals/Lyrics.” whosampled.com.———. “‘Nouveau Western’ Direct Sample of Hook/Riff.” whosampled.com.Various Contributors. “MC Solaar – ‘Lève-toi et rap’ Lyrics.” Rap Genius.

Photograph by Gonzalo Echeverria (2010)Doubt has been my closest companion for several years as I struggle to make sense of certain hidden events from within my family’s history. The actual nature of such events, although now lost to us, can nevertheless be explored through the distorting lens of memory and academic research. I base such explorations in part on my intuition and sensitivity to emotional experience, which are inevitably riddled with doubt. I write from the position of a psychoanalytic psychologist who is also a creative writer and my doubts increase further when I use the autobiographical impulse as a driving force. I am not alone with such uncertainties. Ross Gibson, an historian and filmmaker, uses his doubts to explore empty spaces in the Australian landscape. He looks to see “what’s gone missing” as he endeavours with a team of colleagues to build up some “systematic comprehension in response to fragments” (Gibson, “Places” 1). How can anyone be certain as to what has transpired with no “facts” to go on? he asks. What can we do with our doubts? To this end, Gibson has collected a series of crime scene photographs, taken in post war Sydney, and created a display – a photographic slide show with a minimalist musical score, mostly of drumming and percussion, coupled with a few tight, poetic words, in the form of haiku, splattered across the screen. The notes accompanying the photographic negatives were lost. The only details “known” include the place, the date and the image. Of some two thousand photos, Gibson selected only fifty for display, by hunch, by nuance, or by whatever it was that stirred in him when he first glimpsed them. He describes each photo as “the imprint of a scream”, a gut reaction riddled with doubt (Gibson and Richards, Wartime). In this type of research, creative imaginative flair is essential, Gibson argues. “We need to propose ‘what if’ scenarios that help us account for what has happened…so that we can better envisage what might happen. We need to apprehend the past” (Gibson, “Places” 2). To do this we need imagination, which involves “a readiness to incorporate the unknown…when one encounters evidence that’s in smithereens”, the evidence of the past that lies rooted in a seedbed of doubt (Gibson, “Places” 2). The sociologist, Avery Gordon, also argues in favour of the imaginative impulse. “Fiction is getting pretty close to sociology,” she suggests as she begins her research into the business of ghosts and haunting (Gordon 38). As we entertain our doubts we tune in with our uncertain imaginations. “The places where our discourse is unauthorised by virtue of its unruliness…take us away from abstract questions of method, from bloodless professionalised questions, toward the materiality of institutionalised storytelling, with all its uncanny repetitions” (Gordon 39). If we are to dig deeper, to understand more about the emotional truth of our “fictional” pasts we must look to “the living traces, the memories of the lost and disappeared” (Gordon ix). According to Janice Radway, Gordon seeks a new way of knowing…a knowing that is more a listening than a seeing, a practice of being attuned to the echoes and murmurs of that which has been lost but which is still present among us in the form of intimations, hints, suggestions and portents … ghostly matters … . To be haunted is to be tied to historical and social effects. (x) And to be tied to such effects is to live constantly in the shadow of doubt. A photograph of my dead baby sister haunts me still. As a child I took this photo to school one day. I had peeled it from its corners in the family album. There were two almost identical pictures, side by side. I hoped no one would notice the space left behind. “She’s dead,” I said. I held the photo out to a group of girls in the playground. My fingers had smeared the photo’s surface. The children peered at the image. They wanted to stare at the picture of a dead baby. Not one had seen a dead body before, and not one had been able to imagine the stillness, a photographic image without life, without breath that I passed around on the asphalt playground one spring morning in 1962 when I was ten years old. I have the photo still—my dead sister who bears the same name as my older sister, still living. The dead one has wispy fine black hair. In the photo there are dark shadows underneath her closed eyes. She looks to be asleep. I do not emphasise grief at the loss of my mother’s first-born daughter. My mother felt it briefly, she told me later. But things like that happened all the time during the war. Babies were born and died regularly. Now, all these years later, these same unmourned babies hover restlessly in the nurseries of generations of survivors. There is no way we can be absolute in our interpretations, Gibson argues, but in the first instance there is some basic knowledge to be generated from viewing the crime scene photographs, as in viewing my death photo (Gibson, "Address"). For example, we can reflect on the décor and how people in those days organised their spaces. We can reflect on the way people stood and walked, got on and off vehicles, as well as examine something of the lives of the investigative police, including those whose job it was to take these photographs. Gibson interviewed some of the now elderly men from the Sydney police force who had photographed the crime scenes he displays. He asked questions to deal with his doubts. He now has a very different appreciation of the life of a “copper”, he says. His detective work probing into these empty spaces, digging into his doubts, has reduced his preconceptions and prejudices (Gibson, "Address"). Preconception and prejudice cannot tolerate doubt. In order to bear witness, Gibson says we need to be speculative, to be loose, but not glib, “narrativising” but not inventive, with an eye to the real world (Gibson, "Address"). Gibson’s interest in an interpretation of life after wartime in Sydney is to gather a sense of the world that led to these pictures. His interpretations derive from his hunches, but hunches, he argues, also need to be tested for plausibility (Gibson, Address). Like Gibson, I hope that the didactic trend from the past—to shut up and listen—has been replaced by one that involves “discovery based learning”, learning that is guided by someone who knows “just a little more”, in a common sense, forensic, investigative mode (Gibson, “Address”). Doubt is central to this heuristic trend. Likewise, my doubts give me permission to explore my family’s past without the paralysis of intentionality and certainty. “What method have you adopted for your research?” Gordon asks, as she considers Luce Irigaray’s thoughts on the same question. It is “a delicate question. For isn’t it the method, the path to knowledge, that has always also led us away, led us astray, by fraud and artifice” (Gordon 38). So what is my methodology? I use storytelling meshed with theory and the autobiographical. But what do you think you’re doing? my critics ask. You call this research? I must therefore look to literary theorists on biography and autobiography for support. Nancy Miller writes about the denigration of the autobiographical, particularly in academic circles, where the tendency has been to see the genre as “self indulgent” in its apparent failure to maintain standards of objectivity, of scrutiny and theoretical distance (Miller 421). However, the autobiographical, Miller argues, rather than separating and dividing us through self-interests can “narrow the degree of separation” by operating as an aid to remembering (425). We recognise ourselves in another’s memoir, however fleetingly, and the recognition makes our “own experience feel more meaningful: not ‘merely’ personal but part of the bigger picture of cultural memory” (Miller 426). I speak with some hesitation about my family of origin yet it frames my story and hence my methodology. For many years I have had a horror of what writers and academics call “structure”. I considered myself lacking any ability to create a structure within my writing. I write intuitively. I have some idea of what I wish to explore and then I wait for ideas to enter my mind. They rise to the surface much like air bubbles from a fish. I wait till the fish joggles my bait. Often I write as I wait for a fish to bite. This writing, which is closely informed by my reading, occurs in an intuitive way, as if by instinct. I follow the associations that erupt in my mind, even as I explore another’s theory, and if it is at all possible, if I can get hold of these associations, what I, too, call hunches, then I follow them, much as Gibson and Gordon advocate. Like Gordon, I take my “distractions” seriously (Gordon, 31-60). Gordon follows ghosts. She looks for the things behind the things, the things that haunt her. I, too, look for what lies beneath, what is unconscious, unclear. This writing does not come easily and it takes many drafts before a pattern can emerge, before I, who have always imagined I could not develop a structure, begin to see one—an outline in bold where the central ideas accrue and onto which other thoughts can attach. This structure is not static. It begins with the spark of desire, the intercourse of opposing feelings, for me the desire to untangle family secrets from the past, to unpack one form, namely the history as presented within my family and then to re-assemble it through a written re-construction that attempts to make sense of the empty spaces left out of the family narrative, where no record, verbal or written, has been provided. This operates against pressure from certain members of my family to leave the family past unexplored. My methodology is subjective. Any objectivity I glean in exploring the work and theories of others comes through my own perspective. I read the works of academics in the literary field, and academics from psychoanalysis interested in infant development and personality theory. They consider these issues in different ways from the way in which I, as a psychotherapist, a doubt-filled researcher, and writer, read and experience them. To my clinician self, these ideas evolve in practice. I do not see them as mere abstractions. To me they are living ideas, they pulse and flow, and yet there are some who would seek to tie them down or throw them out. Recently I asked my mother about the photo of her dead baby, her first-born daughter who had died during the Hongerwinter (Hunger winter) of 1945 in Heilo, Holland. I was curious to know how the photo had come about. My curiosity had been flamed by Jay Ruby’s Secure the Shadow: Death and Photography in America, a transcript on the nature of post-mortem photography, which includes several photos of dead people. The book I found by chance in a second-hand books store. I could not leave these photographs behind. Ruby is concerned to ask questions about why we have become so afraid of death, at least in the western world, that we no longer take photographs of our loved ones after death as mementos, or if we take such photos, they are kept private, not shared with the public, for fear that the owners might be considered ghoulish (Ruby 161). I follow in Gordon’s footsteps. She describes how one day, on her way to a conference to present a paper, she had found herself distracted from her conference topic by thoughts of a woman whose image she had discovered was “missing” from a photo taken in Berlin in 1901. According to Gordon’s research, the woman, Sabina Spielrein, should have been present in this photo, but was not. Spielrein is a little known psychoanalyst, little known despite the fact that she was the first to hypothesise on the nature of the death instinct, an unconscious drive towards death and oblivion (Gordon 40). Gordon’s “search” for this missing woman overtook her initial research. My mother could not remember who took her dead baby’s photograph, but suspected it was a neighbour of her cousin in whose house she had stayed. She told me again the story she has told me many times before, and always at my instigation. When I was little I wondered that my mother could stay dry-eyed in the telling. She seemed so calm, when I had imagined that were I the mother of a dead baby I would find it hard to go on. “It is harder,” my mother said, to lose an older child. “When a child dies so young, you have fewer memories. It takes less time to get over it.” Ruby concludes that after World War Two, postmortem photographs were less likely to be kept in the family album, as they would have been in earlier times. “Those who possess death-related family pictures regard them as very private pictures to be shown only to selected people” (Ruby 161). When I look at the images in Ruby’s book, particularly those of the young, the children and babies, I am struck again at the unspoken. The idea of the dead person, seemingly alive in the photograph, propped up in a chair, on a mother’s lap, or resting on a bed, lifeless. To my contemporary sensibility it seems wrong. To look upon these dead people, their identities often unknown, and to imagine the grief for others in that loss—for grief there must have been such that the people remaining felt it necessary to preserve the memory—becomes almost unbearable. It is tempting to judge the past by present standards. In 1999, while writing her historical novel Year of Wonders, Geraldine Brooks came across a letter Henry James had written ninety eight years earlier to a young Sarah Orne Jewett who had previously sent him a manuscript of her historical novel for comment. In his letter, James condemns the notion of the historical novel as an impossibility: “the invention, the representation of the old consciousness, the soul, the sense of horizon, the vision of individuals in whose minds half the things that make ours, that make the modern world,” are all impossible, he insisted (Brooks 3). Despite Brooks’s initial disquiet at James’s words, she realised later that she had heard similar ideas uttered in different contexts before. Brooks had worked as a journalist in the Middle East and Africa: “They don’t think like us,” white Africans would say of their black neighbours, or Israelis of Arabs or upper class Palestinians about their desperately poor refugee-camp brethren … . “They don’t value life as we do. They don’t care if their kids get killed—they have so many of them”. (Brookes 3) But Brooks argues, “a woman keening for a dead child sounds exactly as raw in an earth-floored hovel as it does in a silk-carpeted drawing room” (3). Brooks is concerned to get beyond the certainties of our pre-conceived ideas: “It is human nature to put yourself in another’s shoes. The past may be another country. But the only passport required is empathy”(3). And empathy again requires the capacity to tolerate doubt. Later I asked my mother yet again about what it was like for her when her baby died, and why she had chosen to have her dead baby photographed. She did not ask for the photograph to be taken, she told me. But she was glad to have it now; otherwise nothing would remain of this baby, buried in an unfamiliar cemetery on the other side of the world. Why am I haunted by this image of my dead baby sister and how does it connect with my family’s secrets? The links are still in doubt. Gibson’s creative flair, Gordon’s ideas on ghostly matters and haunting, the things behind the things, my preoccupation with my mother’s dead baby and a sense that this sister might mean less to me did I not have the image of her photograph planted in my memory from childhood, all come together through parataxis if we can bear our doubts. Certainty is the enemy of introspection of imagination and of creativity. Yet too much doubt can paralyse. Here I write about tolerable levels of doubt tempered with an inquisitive mind that can land on hunches and an imagination that allows the researcher to follow such hunches and then seek evidence that corroborates or disproves them. As Gibson writes elsewhere, I tried to use all these scrappy details to help people think about the absences and silences between all the pinpointed examples that made up the scenarios that I presented in prose that was designed to spur rigorous speculation rather than lock down singular conclusions. (“Extractive” 2) Ours is a positive doubt, one that expects to find something, however “unexpected”, rather than a negative doubt that expects nothing. For doubt in large doses can paralyse a person into inaction. Furthermore, a balanced state of doubt fosters connectivity. As John Patrick Shanley’s character, the parish priest, Father Flynn, in the film Doubt, observes, “there are these times in our life when we feel lost. It happens and it’s a bond” (Shanley). References Brooks, Geraldine. "Timeless Tact Helps Sustain a Literary Time Traveller." New York Times, 2001. 14 Jan. 2011 ‹http://www.nytimes.com/2001/07/02/arts/writers-on-writing-timeless-tact-helps-sustain-a-literary-time-traveler.html?pagewanted=3&src=pm›. Doubt. Shanley, Dir. J. P. Shanley. Miramax Films, 2008. Gibson, Ross, and Kate Richards. “Life after Wartime.” N.d. 25 Feb. 2011. ‹http://www.lifeafterwartime.com/›. Gibson, Ross. “The Art of the Real Conference.” Keynote address. U Newcastle, 2008. Gibson, Ross. “Places past Disappearance.” Transformations 13-1 (2006). 22 Feb. 2007 ‹http://www.transformationsjournal.org/journal/issue_13/article_01.shtml›. ———. “Extractive Realism.” Australian Humanities Review 47 (2009). 25 Feb. 2011 ‹http://www.australianhumanitiesreview.org/archive/Issue-November-2009/gibson.html›. Gordon, Avery F. Ghostly Matters: Haunting and the Sociological Imagination. Minneapolis: U Minnesota P, 2008. Miller, Nancy K. “But Enough about Me, What Do You Think of My Memoir?” The Yale Journal of Criticism 13.2 (2000): 421-536. Ruby, Jay. Secure the Shadow: Death and Photography in America. Cambridge, MA: MIT P, 1995.

Why do politicians wear what they wear? Social conventions and parliamentary rules largely shape how politicians dress. Clothing is about power, especially if we think about clothing as uniforms. Uniforms of judges and police are easily recognised as symbols of power. Similarly, the business suit of a politician is recognised as a form of authority. But what if you are a female politician: what do you wear to work or in public? Why do we expect politicians to wear suits and ties? While we do expect a certain level of behaviour of our political leaders, why does the professionalised suit and tie signal this? And what happens if a politician challenges this convention? Female politicians, and largely any women in a position of power in the public sphere, are judged when they don’t conform to the social conventions of appropriate dress. Arguably, male politicians are largely not examined for their suit preferences (unless you are Paul Keating wearing Zenga suits or Anthony Albanese during an election make-over), so why are female politicians’ clothes so scrutinised and framed as reflective of their abilities or character? This article interrogates the political uniform and its gendered contestations. It does so via the ways female politicians are challenging gender norms and power relations in how they dress in public, political, and parliamentary contexts. It considers how rules and conventions around political clothing are political in themselves, through a discussion on how female politicians and political figures choose to adhere to or break these rules. Rules about what dress is worn by parliamentarians are often archaic, often drawn from rules set by parliaments largely made up of men. But even with more women sitting in parliaments, dress rules still reflect a very masculine idea of what is appropriate. Dress standards in the Australian federal parliament are described as a “matter for individual judgement”, however the Speaker of the House of Representatives can make rulings on members’ attire. In 1983, the Speaker ruled dress was to be neat, clean, and decent. In 1999, the Speaker considered dress to be “formal” and “similar to that generally accepted in business and professional circles”. This was articulated by the Speaker to be “good trousers, a jacket, collar and tie for men and a similar standard of formality for women”. In 2005, the Speaker reinforced this ruling that dress should be “formal” in keeping with business and professional standards, adding there was no “dignity of the House for Members to arrive in casual or sportswear” (“Dress”). Clothes with “printed slogans” are not considered acceptable and result in a warning from the Speaker for Australian MPs to “dress more appropriately”. Previous dress rulings also include that members should not remove their jackets in parliament, “tailored safari suits without a tie were acceptable, members could wear hats in parliament but had to remove them while entering or leaving the chamber and while speaking”. The safari suit rule likely refers to the former Foreign Affairs Minister Gareth Evans’s wearing of the garment during the 1980s and 1990s. The Speaker can also rule on what a member of the federal parliament can’t do. While in parliament, members can’t smoke, can’t read a newspaper, can’t distribute apples, may not climb over seats, and can’t hit or kick their desks. Members of parliament can however use their mobile phones for text messaging, and laptops can be used for emails (“Dress”). These examples suggest an almost old-fashioned type of school rules juxtaposed with modern sensibilities, positing the ad-hoc nature of parliamentary rules, with dress rules further evidence of this. While a business suit is considered the orthodoxy of the political uniform for male politicians, this largely governs rules about what female politicians wear. The business suit, the quasi-political uniform for male MPs, is implicit and has social consensus. The suit, which covers the body, is comprised of trousers to the ankle, well cut in muted colours of blue, grey, brown, and black, with contrasting shirts, often white or light colours, ties that may have a splash of colour, often demonstrating allegiances or political persuasions, mostly red or blue, as in the case of Labor and Liberal or Republicans and Democrats. The conventions of the suit are largely proscribed onto women, who wear a female version of the male suit, with some leeway in colour and pattern. Dress for female MPs should be modest, as with the suit, covering much of the body, and especially have a modest neckline and be at least knee length. In the American Congress, the dress code requires “men to wear suit jackets and ties ... and women are not supposed to wear sleeveless tops or dresses without a sweater or jacket” (Zengerle). In 2017, this prompted US Congresswomen to wear sleeveless dresses as a “right to bare arms” (Deutch and Karl). In these two Australian and American examples of a masculine parliamentary wear it is reasonable to suppose a seeming universality about politicians’ dress codes. But who decides what is the correct mode of political uniform? Sartorial rules about what are acceptable clothing choices are usually made by the dominant group, and this is the case when it comes to what politicians wear. Some rules about what is worn in parliament are archaic to our minds today, such as the British parliament law from 1313 which outlaws the wearing of armour and weaponry inside the chamber. More modern rulings from the UK include the banning of hats in the House of Commons (although not the Lords), and women being permitted handbags, but not men (Simm). This last rule reveals how clothing and its performance is gendered, as does the Australian parliament rule that a “Member may keep his hands in his pockets while speaking” (“Dress”), which assumes the speaker is likely a man wearing trousers. Political Dress as Uniform While political dress may be considered as a dress ‘code’ it can also be understood as a uniform because the dress reflects their job as public, political representatives. When dress code is considered as a uniform, homogenisation of dress occurs. Uniformity, somewhat ironically, can emphasise transgressions, as Jennifer Craik explains: “cultural transgression is a means of simultaneously undermining and reinforcing rules of uniforms since an effective transgressive performance relies on shared understandings of normative meanings, designated codes of conduct and connotations” (Craik 210). Codified work wear usually comes under the umbrella of uniforms. Official uniforms are the most obvious type of uniforms, clearly denoting the organisation of the wearer. Military, police, nurses, firefighters, and post-office workers often have recognisable uniforms. These uniforms are often accompanied by a set of rules that govern the “proper” wearing of these items. Uniforms rules do not just govern how the clothing is worn, they also govern the conduct of the person wearing the uniform. For example, a police officer in uniform, whether or not on duty, is expected to maintain certain codes of behaviour as well as dress standards. Yet dress, as Craik notes, can also be transgressive, allowing the wearer to challenge the underpinning conventions of the dress codes. Both Australian Senator Sarah Hanson-Young and US Congresswoman Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez, to name just two, leveraged social understandings of uniforms when they used their clothing to communicate political messages. Fashion as political communication or as ‘fashion politics’ is not a new phenomenon (Oh 374). Jennifer Craik argues that there are two other types of uniform; the unofficial and the quasi-uniform (17). Unofficial uniforms are generally adopted in lieu of official uniforms. They generally arise organically from group members and function in similar ways to official uniforms, and they tend to be identical in appearance, even if hierarchical. Examples of these include the yellow hi-vis jackets worn by the French Gilets Jaunes during the 2018 protests against rising costs of living and economic injustice (Coghlan). Quasi-uniforms work slightly differently. They exist where official and unofficial rules govern the wearing of clothes that are beyond the normal social rules of clothing. For example, the business suit is generally considered appropriate attire for those working in a conservative corporate environment: some workplaces restrict skirt, trouser, and jacket colours to navy, grey, or black, accompanied by a white shirt or blouse. In this way we can consider parliamentary dress to be a form of “quasi-uniform”, governed by both official and unofficial workplaces rules, but discretionary as to what the person chooses to wear in order to abide by these rules, which as described above are policed by the parliamentary Speaker. In the Australian House of Representatives, official rules are laid down in the policy “Dress and Conduct in the Chamber” which allows that “the standard of dress in the Chamber is a matter for the individual judgement of each Member, [but] the ultimate discretion rests with the Speaker” (“Dress”). Clothing rules within parliamentary chambers may establish order but also may seem counter-intuitive to the notions of democracy and free speech. However, when they are subverted, these rules can make clothing statements seem even more stark. Jennifer Craik argues that “wearing a uniform properly ... is more important that the items of clothing and decoration themselves” (4) and it is this very notion that makes transgressive use of the uniform so powerful. As noted by Coghlan, what we wear is a powerful tool of political struggle. French revolutionaries rejected the quasi-uniforms of the French nobility and their “gold-braided coat, white silk stockings, lace stock, plumed hat and sword” (Fairchilds 423), and replaced it with the wearing of the tricolour cockade, a badge of red, blue, and white ribbons which signalled wearers as revolutionaries. Uniforms in this sense can be understood to reinforce social hierarchies and demonstrate forms of power and control. Coghlan also reminds us that the quasi-uniform of women’s bloomers in the 1850s, often referred to as “reform dress”, challenged gender norms and demonstrated women’s agency. The wearing of pants by women came to “symbolize the movement for women’s rights” (Ladd Nelson 24). The wearing of quasi-political uniforms by those seeking social change has a long history, from the historical examples already noted to the Khadi Movement led by Gandhi’s “own sartorial choices of transformation from that of an Englishman to that of one representing India” (Jain), to the wearing of sharecropper overalls by African American civil rights activists to Washington to hear Martin Luther King in 1963, to the Aboriginal Long March to Freedom in 1988, the Tibetan Freedom Movement in 2008, and the 2017 Washington Pink Pussy Hat March, just to name a few (Coghlan). Here shared dress uniforms signal political allegiance, operating not that differently from the shared meanings of the old-school tie or tie in the colour of political membership. Political Fashion Clothing has been used by queens, female diplomats, and first ladies as signs of power. For members of early royal households, “rank, wealth, magnificence, and personal virtue was embodied in dress, and, as such, dress was inherently political, richly materialising the qualities associated with the wearer” (Griffey 15). Queen Elizabeth I (1558-1603), in order to subvert views that she was unfit to rule because of her sex, presented herself as a virgin to prove she was “morally worthy of holding the traditionally masculine office of monarch” (Howey 2009). To do this she dressed in ways projecting her virtue, meaning her thousands of gowns not only asserted her wealth, they asserted her power as each gown featured images and symbols visually reinforcing her standing as the Virgin Queen (Otnes and Maclaren 40). Not just images and symbols, but colour is an important part of political uniforms. Just as Queen Elizabeth I’s choice of white was an important communication tool to claim her right to rule, Queen Victoria used colour to indicate status and emotion, exclusively wearing black mourning clothes for the 41 years of her widowhood and thus “creating a solemn and pious image of the Queen” (Agnew). Dress as a sign of wealth is one aspect of these sartorial choices, the other is dress as a sign of power. Today, argues Mansel, royal dress is as much political as it is performative, embedded with a “transforming power” (Mansel xiiv). With the “right dress”, be it court dress, national dress, military or civil uniform, royals can encourage loyalty, satisfy vanity, impress the outside world, and help local industries (Mansel xiv). For Queen Elizabeth II, her uniform rendered her visible as The Queen; a brand rather than the person. Her clothes were not just “style choices”; they were “steeped with meaning and influence” that denoted her role as ambassador and figurehead (Atkinson). Her wardrobe of public uniforms was her “communication”, saying she was “prepared, reliable and traditional” (Atkinson). Queen Elizabeth’s other public uniform was that of the “tweed-skirted persona whose image served as cultural shorthand for conservative and correct manner and mode” (Otnes and Maclaren 19). For her royal tours, the foreign dress of Queen Elizabeth was carefully planned with a key “understanding of the political semantics of fashion … with garments and accessories … pay[ing] homage to the key symbols of the host countries” (Otnes and Maclaren 49). Madeline Albright, former US Secretary of State, engaged in sartorial diplomacy not with fashion but with jewellery, specifically pins (Albright). She is quoted as saying on good days, when I wanted to project prosperity and happiness, I'd put on suns, ladybugs, flowers, and hot-air balloons that signified high hopes. On bad days, I'd reach for spiders and carnivorous animals. If the progress was slower than I liked during a meeting in the Middle East, I'd wear a snail pin. And when I was dealing with crabby people, I put on a crab. Other ambassadors started to notice, and whenever they asked me what I was up to on any given day, I would tell them, “Read my pins”. (Burack) Two American first ladies, Hillary Rodham Clinton and Michelle Obama, demonstrate how their fashion acted as a political uniform to challenge the ideal notions of American womanhood that for generations were embedded in the first lady (Rall et al.). While modern first ladies are now more political in their championing of causes and play an important role in presidential election, there are lingering expectations that the first lady be the mother of the nation (Caroli). First Lady Hillary Rodham Clinton’s eclectic style challenged the more conservative tone set by prior Republican first ladies, notably Barbara Bush. Rodham Clinton is a feminist and lawyer more interested in policy that the domesticity of White House functions and décor. Her fashion reflects her “independence, individuality and agency”, providing a powerful message to American women (Rall et al. 274). This was not that much of a shift from her appearance as the wife of a Southern Governor who wouldn’t wear makeup and kept her maiden name (Anderson and Sheeler 26). More recently, as Democratic Presidential nominee, Rodham Clinton again used fashion to tell voters that a woman could wear a suit and become president. Rodham Clinton’s political fashion acted to contest the gender stereotypes about who could sit in the White House (Oh 374). Again, the pantsuit was not new for Rodham Clinton; “when I ran for Senate in 2000 and President in 2008, I basically had a uniform: a simple pantsuit, often black” (Mejia). Rodham Clinton says the “benefit to having a uniform is finding an easy way to fit in … to do what male politicians do and wear more or less the same thing every day”. As a woman running for president in 2016, the pantsuit acted as a “visual cue” that she was “different from the men but also familiar” (Mejia). Similarly, First Lady Michelle Obama adopted a political uniform to situate her role in American society. Gender but also race and class played a role in shaping her performance (Guerrero). As the first black First Lady, in the context of post-9/11 America which pushed a “Buy American” retail campaign, and perhaps in response to the novelty of a black First Lady, Obama expressed her political fashion by returning the First Lady narrative back to the confines of family and domesticity (Dillaway and Paré). To do this, she “presented a middle-class casualness by wearing mass retail items from popular chain stores and the use of emerging American designers for her formal political appearances” (Rall et al. 274). Although the number of women elected into politics has been increasing, gender stereotypes remain, and female representation in politics still remains low in most countries (Oh 376). Hyland argues that female politicians are subject to more intense scrutiny over their appearance … they are held to higher standards for their professional dress and expected to embody a number of paradoxes — powerful yet demure, covered-up but not too prim. They’re also expected to keep up with trends in a way that their male counterparts are not. Sexism can too easily encroach upon critiques of what they wear. How female politicians dress is often more reported than their political or parliamentary contributions. This was the case for Australia’s first female Prime Minister Julia Gillard. Jansens’s 2019 research well demonstrates the media preoccupation with political women’s fashion in a number of ways, be it the colours they choose to wear, how their clothing reveals their bodies, and judgements about the professionalism of their sartorial choices and the number of times certain items of clothing are worn. Jansens provides a number of informative examples noting the media’s obsession with Gillard’s choices of jackets that were re-worn and tops that showed her cleavage. One Australian Financial Review columnist reported, I don’t think it’s appropriate for a Prime Minister to be showing her cleavage in Parliament. It’s not something I want to see. It is inappropriate to be in Parliament, it is disrespectful to yourself and to the Australian community and to the parliament to present yourself in a manner that is unprofessional. (Jansens) The media preoccupation with female politicians’ clothing is noted elsewhere. In the 2012 Korean presidential election, Geun-hye Park became the first female president of Korea, yet media reports focussed largely on Park’s fashion: a 2013 newspaper published a four-page analysis titled “Park Geun-hye Fashion Project”. Another media outlet published a review of the 409 formal function outfits worn by Park (Oh 378). The larger focus, however, remains on Park’s choice to wear a suit, referred to as her “combat uniform” (Cho), for her daily parliamentary and political duties. This led Oh to argue that Korean female politicians, including Park, wear a “male suit as a means for benefit and survival”; however, with such media scrutiny “female politicians are left under constant surveillance” (382). As Jansens argues, clothing can act as a “communicative barrier between the body and society”, and a narrative that focusses on how clothes fit and look “illustrates women’s bodies as exceptional to the uniform of the political sphere, which is a masculine aesthetic” (212). Drawing on Entwistle, Jansens maintains that the the uniform “serves the purpose in policing the boundaries of sexual difference”, with “uniforms of gender, such as the suit, enabl[ing] the repetitious production of gender”. In this context, female politicians are in a double bind. Gillard, for example, in changing her aesthetic illustrates the “false dichotomy, or the ‘double bind’ of women’s competency and femininity that women can be presented with regarding their agency to conform, or their agency to deviate from the masculine aesthetic norm” (Jansens 212). This was likely also the experience of Jeannette Rankin, with media reports focusing on Rankin’s “looks and “personal habits,” and headlines such “Congresswoman Rankin Real Girl; Likes Nice Gowns and Tidy Hair” (“Masquerading”). In this article, however, the focus is not on the media preoccupation with female politicians’ political fashion; rather, it is on how female politicians, rather than conforming to masculine aesthetic norms of wearing suit-like attire, are increasingly contesting the political uniform and in doing so are challenging social and political boundaries As Yangzom puts it, how the “embodiment of dress itself alters political space and civic discourse is imperative to understanding how resistance is performed in creating social change” (623). This is a necessary socio-political activity because the “way the media talks about women affects the way women are perceived in society. If women’s appearances are consistently highlighted in the media, inequality of opportunity will follow from this inequality of treatment” (Jansens 215). Contesting the Political Uniform Breaking fashion norms, or as Entwistle argues, “bodies which flout the conventions of their culture and go without the appropriate clothes are subversive of the most basic social codes and risk exclusion, scorn and ridicule” (7), hence the price may be high to pay for a public figure. American Vice-President Kamala Harris’s penchant for comfy sneakers earned her the nickname “the Converse candidate”. Her choice to wear sneakers rather than a more conventional low-heel shoe didn’t necessarily bring about a backlash; rather, it framed her youthful image (possibly to contrast against Trump and Biden) and posited a “hit the ground running” approach (Hyland). Or, as Devaney puts it, “laced up and ready to win … [Harris] knew her classic American trainers signalled a can-do attitude and a sense of purpose”. Increasingly, political women, rather than being the subject of social judgments about their clothing, are actively using their dressed bodies to challenge and contest a range of political discourses. What a woman wears is a “language through which she can send any number of pointed messages” (Weiss). In 2021, US Congresswoman Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez wore a ‘Tax the rich’ dress to the Met Gala. The dress was designed by social activist designers Brother Vellies and loaned to Ocasio-Cortez to attend the $30,000 ticket event. For Ocasio-Cortez, who has an Instagram following of more than eight million people, the dress is “about having a real conversation about fairness and equity in our system, and I think this conversation is particularly relevant as we debate the budget” (“Alexandria”). For Badham, “in the blood-spattered garments of fighting class war” the “backlash to Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez’s … dress was instant and glorious”. At the same event, Congresswomen Carolyn Maloney wore an ‘Equal Rights for Women’ suffragette-themed floor length dress in the suffragette colours of purple, white, and gold. Maloney posted that she has “long used fashion as a force 4 change” (Chamlee). US Senator Kyrsten Sinema is known for her “eccentric hipster” look when sitting in the chamber, complete with “colourful wigs, funky glasses, gold knee-high boots, and a ring that reads ‘Fuck off”’ (Hyland). Simena has been called a “Prada Socialist” and a “fashion revolutionary” (Cauterucci). Similarly, UK politician Harriet Harmen received backlash for wearing a t-shirt which read “This is what a feminist looks like” when meeting PM David Cameron (Pilote and Montreuil). While these may be exceptions rather than the rule, the agency demonstrated by these politicians speaks to the patriarchal nature of masculine political environments and the conventions and rules that maintain gendered institutions, such as parliaments. When US Vice-President Kamala Harris was sworn in, she was “not only … the first woman, Black woman, and South Asian-American woman elected to the position, but also … the first to take the oath of office wearing something other than a suit and tie”, instead wearing a feminised suit consisting of a purple dress and coat designed by African-American designer Christopher John Rogers (Naer). Harris is often photographed wearing Converse sneakers, as already noted, and Timberland work boots, which for Naer is “quietly rebellious” because with them “Harris subverts expectations that women in politics should appear in certain clothing (sleek heels, for instance) in order to compete with men — who are, most often, in flats”. For Elan, the Vice-President’s sneakers may be a “small sartorial detail, but it is linked to the larger cultural moment in which we live. Sneakers are a form of footwear finding their way into many women’s closets as part of a larger challenge to outmoded concepts of femininity” as well as a nod to her multiracial heritage where the “progenitors of sneaker culture were predominantly kids of colour”. Her dress style can act to disrupt more than just gender meanings; it can be extended to examine class and race. In 2022, referencing the Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez 2021 Met dress, Claudia Perkins, the wife of Australian Greens leader Adam Bandt, wore a “white, full-length dress covered in red and black text” that read “coal kills” and “gas kills”, with slick, long black gloves. Bandt wore a “simple tux with a matching pocket square of the same statement fabric” to the federal parliament Midwinter Ball. Joining Perkins was Greens Senator Sarah Hanson-Young, wearing an “hourglass white dress with a statement on the back in black letters” that read: “end gas and coal”. The trim on the bottom was also covered in the same text. Hanson-Young posted on social media that the “dress is made from a 50-year-old damask table cloth, and the lettering is made from a fast fashion handbag that had fallen apart” (Bliszczyk). Federal MP Nicolle Flint posted a video on Twitter asking a political commentator what a woman in politics should wear. One commentator had taken aim at Flint’s sartorial choices which he described “pearl earrings and a pearly smile” and a “vast wardrobe of blazers, coats and tight, black, ankle-freezing trousers and stiletto heels”. Ending the video, Flint removes her black coat to reveal a “grey bin bag cinched with a black belt” (Norman). In 2018, Québec politician Catherine Dorian was criticised for wearing casual clothes, including Dr Marten boots, in parliament, and again in 2019 when Dorian wore an orange hoodie in the parliamentary chamber. The claim was that Dorian “did not respect decorum” (Pilote and Montreuil). Dorian’s response was “it’s supposed to be the people’s house, so why can’t we look like normal people” (Parrillo). Yet the Québec parliament only has dress rules for men — jacket, shirt and ties — and has no specifics for female attire, meaning a female politician can wear Dr Martens or a hoodie, or meaning that the orthodoxy is that only men will sit in the chamber. The issue of the hoodie, somewhat like Kamala Harris’s wearing of sneakers, is also a class and age issue. For Jo Turney, the hoodie is a “symbol of social disobedience” (23). The garment is mass-produced, ordinary, and democratic, as it can be worn by anyone. It is also a sign of “criminality, anti-social behaviour and out of control youth”. If the media are going to focus on what female politicians are wearing rather than their political actions, it is unsurprising some will use that platform to make social and political comments on issues relating to gender, but also to age, class, and policies. While this may maintain a focus on their sartorial choices, it does remind us of the double bind female politicians are in. With parliamentary rules and social conventions enamoured with the idea of a ‘suit and tie’ being the appropriate uniform for political figures, instances when this ‘rule’ is transgressed will risk public ridicule and social backlash. However, in instances were political women have chosen to wear garments that are not the conventional political uniform of the suit and tie, i.e. a dress or t-shirt with a political slogan, or a hoodie or sneakers reflecting youth, class, or race, they are challenging the customs of what a politician should look like. Politicians today are both men and women, different ages, abilities, sexualities, ethnicities, religions, and demographics. To narrowly suppose what a politician is by what they wear narrows public thinking about a person’s contribution or potential contribution to public life. 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I. First Brexit, then Trump: Has the past year or so ushered in a “wave” (Weisberg), a “barrage” (Desmond-Harris) or a “deluge” (Sidahmed) of that notoriously noxious affect, hate? It certainly feels that way to those of us identified with progressive social and political causes—those of us troubled, not just by Trump’s recent electoral victory, but by the far-right forces to which that victory has given voice. And yet the questions still hanging over efforts to quantify emotional or affective states leaves the claim that there has been a clear spike in hate moot (Ngai 26; Massumi 136-7; Ahmed, Promise 3-8). So let’s try asking a different question. Has this same period seen a rise, across liberal media platforms, in the rhetorical work of “hate-attribution”? Here, at least, an answer seems in readier reach. For no one given to scrolling distractedly through liberal Anglophone media outlets, from The New York Times, to The Guardian, to Slate, will be unfamiliar with a species of journalism that, in reporting the appalling activities associated with what has become known as the “alt-right” (Main; Wallace-Wells; Gourarie), articulates those activities in the rubric of a calculable uptick in hate itself.Before the U.S. Presidential election, this fledgling journalistic genre was already testing its wings, its first shudderings felt everywhere from Univision anchor Jorge Ramos’s widely publicized documentary, Hate Rising (2016), which explores the rise of white supremacist movements across the South-West U.S, to an edition of Slate’s Trumpcast entitled “The Alt-Right and a Deluge of Hate,” which broached the torment-by-Twitter of left-wing journalist David French. In the wake of the election, and the appalling acts of harassment and intimidation it seemed to authorize, the genre gained further momentum—leading to the New Yorker’s “Hate Is on the Rise After Trump’s Election,” to The Guardian’s “Trump’s Election led to Barrage of Hate,” and to Vox’s “The Wave of Post-Election Hate Reportedly Sweeping the Nation, Explained.” And it still has traction today, judging not just by James King’s recent year-in-review column, “The Year in Hate: From Donald Trump to the Rise of the Alt-Right,” but by Salon’s “A Short History of Hate” which tracks the alt-right’s meteoric 2016 rise to prominence, and the New York Times’ recently launched hate-speech aggregator, “This Week in Hate.”As should already be clear from these brisk, thumbnail accounts of the texts in question, the phenomena alluded to by the titular term “hate” are not instances of hate per se, but rather instances of “hate-speech.” The word “hate,” in other words, is being deployed here not literally, to refer to an emotional state, but metonymically, as a shorthand for “hate-speech”—a by-now widely conventionalized and legally codified parlance originating with the U.N. Declaration to describe “violent or violence-inciting speech or acts that “aim or intend to inflict injury, or incite prejudice or hatred, against persons of groups” because of their ethnic, religious, sexual or social affiliation. And there is no doubt that, beyond the headlines, these articles do incredibly important work, drawing connections between, and drawing attention to, a host of harmful activities associated with the so-called “alt-right”—from a pair of mangled, pretzel-shaped swastikas graffiti-ed in a children’s playground, to acts of harassment, intimidation and violence against women, African-Americans, Latinos, Muslims, Jews, and LGBTQ people, to Trump’s own racist, xenophobic and misogynistic tweets. Yet the fact that an emotion-term like hate is being mobilized across these texts as a metonym for the “alt-right” is no oratorical curio. Rather, it perpetuates a pervasive way of thinking about the relationship between the alt-right (a political phenomenon) and hate (an emotional phenomenon) that should give pause to those of us committed to mining that vein of cultural symptomatology now consigned, across the social sciences and critical humanities, to affect theory. Specifically, these headlines inscribe, in miniature, a kind of micro-assessment, a micro-geography and micro-theory of hate. First, they suggest that, even prior to its incarnation in specific, and dangerous, forms of speech or action, hate is in and of itself anathema, a phenomenon so unquestioningly dangerous that a putative “rise” or “spike” in its net presence provides ample pretext for a news headline. Second, they propose that hate may be localized to a particular social or political group—a group subsisting, unsurprisingly, on that peculiarly contested frontier between the ideological alt-right and the American Midwest. And third, they imply that hate is so indubitably the single most significant source of the xenophobic, racist and sexist activities they go on to describe that it may be casually used as these activities’ lexical proxy. What is crystallizing here, I suggest, is what scholars of rhetoric dub a rhetorical “constellation” (Campbell and Jamieson 332)—a constellation from which hate emerges as, a) inherently problematic, b) localizable to the “alt-right,” and, c) the primary engine of the various activities and expressions we associate with them. This constellation of conventions for thinking about hate and its relationship to the activities of right-wing extremist movement has coalesced into a “genre” we might dub the genre of “hate-attribution.” Yet while it’s far from clear that the genre is an effective one in a political landscape that’s fast becoming a political battleground, it hasn’t appeared by chance. Treating “hate,” then, less as a descriptive “grid of analysis” (Sedgwick 152), than as a rhetorical projectile, this essay opens by interrogating the “hate-attribution” genre’s logic and querying its efficacy. Having done so, it approaches the concept of “alternatives” by asking: how might calling time on the genre help us think differently about both hate itself and about the forces catalyzing, and catalyzed by, Trump’s presidential campaign? II.The rhetorical power of the genre of hate-attribution, of course, isn’t too difficult to pin down. An emotion so thoroughly discredited that its assignment is now in and of itself a term of abuse (see, for example, the O.E.D’s freshly-expanded definition of the noun “hater”), hate is an emotion the Judeo-Christian tradition deems not just responsible for but practically akin to murder (John 3:1). In part as a result of this tradition, hate has proven thoroughly resistant to efforts to elevate it from the status of an expression of a subject’s pestiferous inner life to the status of a polemical response to an object in the world. Indeed, while a great deal of the critical energy amassing under the rubric of “affect theory” has recently been put into recuperating the strategic or diagnostic value of emotions long scorned as irrelevant to oppositional struggle—from irritation and envy, to depression, anger and shame (Ngai; Cvetkovich; Gould; Love)—hate has notably not been among them. In fact, those rare scholarly accounts of affect that do address “hate,” notably Ahmed’s excellent work on right-wing extremist groups in the United Kingdom, display an understandable reluctance to rehabilitate it for progressive thought (Cultural Politics). It should come as no surprise, then, that the genre of “hate-attribution” has a rare rhetorical power. In identifying “hate” as the source of a particular position, gesture or speech-act, we effectively drain said position, gesture or speech-act of political agency or representational power—reducing it from an at-least-potentially polemical action in or response to the world, to the histrionic expression of a reprehensible personhood. Yet because hate’s near-taboo status holds across the ideological and political spectrum, what is less clear is why the genre of hate-attribution has achieved such cachet in the liberal media in particular. The answer, I would argue, lies in the fact that the work of hate-attribution dovetails all too neatly with liberal political theory’s longstanding tendency to laminate its social and civic ideals to affective ideals like “love,” “sympathy,” “compassion,” and, when in a less demonstrative humor, “tolerance”. As Martha Nussbaum’s Political Emotions has recently shown, this tradition has an impressive philosophical pedigree, running from Aristotle’s philia (16), John Locke’s “toleration” and David Hume’s “sympathy” (69-75), to the twentieth century’s Universal Declaration of Human Rights, with its promotion of “tolerance and friendship among all nations, racial or religious groups.” And while the labour of what Lauren Berlant calls “liberal sentimentality” (“Poor Eliza”, 636) has never quite died away, it does seem to have found new strength with the emergence of the “intimate public sphere” (Berlant, Queen)—from its recent popular apotheosis in the Clinton campaign’s notorious “Love Trumps Hate” (a slogan in which “love,” unfortunately, came to look a lot like resigned technocratic quietism in the face of ongoing economic and environmental crisis [Zizek]), to its revival as a philosophical project among progressive scholars, many of them under the sway of the so-called “affective turn” (Nussbaum; Hardt; Sandoval; hooks). No surprise, then, that liberalism’s struggle to yoke itself to “love” should have as its eerie double a struggle to locate among its ideological and political enemies an increasingly reified “hate”. And while the examples of this project we’ve touched on so far have hailed from popular media, this set of protocols for thinking about hate and its relationship to the activities of right-wing extremist movements is not unique to media circles. It’s there in political discourse, as in ex-DNC chair Debbie Wasserman Schultz’s announcement, on MSNBC, that “Americans will unite against [Trump’s] hatred.” And it’s there, too, in academic media studies, from FLOW journal’s November 2016 call for papers inviting respondents to comment, among other things, on “the violence and hatred epitomized by Trump and his supporters,” to the SCMS conference’s invitation to members to participate in a pop-up panel entitled “Responding to Hate, Disenfranchisement and the Loss of the Commons.” Yet while the labor of hate-attribution to which many progressive forces have become attached carries an indisputable rhetorical force, it also has some profound rhetorical flaws. The very same stigma, after all, that makes “hate” such a powerful explanatory grenade to throw also makes it an incredibly tough one to land. As Ahmed’s analysis of the online rhetoric of white supremacist organizations should remind us (Cultural Politics), most groups structured around inciting and promoting violence against women and minorities identify, perversely, not as hate groups, but as movements propelled by the love of race and nation. And while left-wing pundits pronounce “hate” the signature emotion of a racist, misogynist Trump-voting right, supporters of Trump ascribe it, just as routinely, to the so-called “liberal elite,” a group whose mythical avatars—from the so-called “Social Justice Warrior” or “SJW,” to the supercilious Washington politico—are said to brand “ordinary [white, male] Americans” indiscriminately as racist, misogynistic, homophobic buffoons. Thus, for example, The Washington Post’s uncanny, far-right journalistic alter-ego, The Washington Times, dubs the SPLC a “liberal hate group”; the Wikipedia mirror-site, Conservapedia, recasts liberal objections to gun violence as “liberal hate speech” driven by an “irrational aversion to weapons”; while one blood-curdling sub-genre of reportage on Steve Bannon’s crypto-fascist soapbox, Breitbart News, is devoted to denouncing what it calls “ ‘anti-White Racism.’” It’s easy enough, of course, to defend the hate-attribution genre’s liberal incarnations while dismissing its right-wing variants as cynical, opportunistic shams, as Ahmed does (Cultural Politics)—thereby re-establishing the wellspring of hate where we are most comfortable locating it: among our political others. Yet to do so seems, in some sense, to perpetuate a familiar volley of hate-attribution. And to the extent that, as many media scholars have shown (Philips; Reed; Tett; Turow), our digital, networked political landscape is in danger of being reduced to a silo-ed discursive battleground, the ritual exchange of terminological grenades that everyone seems eager to propel across ideological lines, but that no one, understandably, seems willing to pick up, seems counter-productive to say the least.Even beyond the genre’s ultimate ineffectiveness, what should strike anyone used to reflecting on affect is how little justice it does to the ubiquity and intricacy of “hate” as an affective phenomenon. Hate is not and cannot be the exclusive property or preserve of one side of the political spectrum. One doesn’t have to stretch one’s critical faculties too far to see the extent to which the genre of hate-attribution participates in the emotional ballistics it condemns or seeks to redress. While trafficking in a relatively simple hate-paradigm (as a subjective emotional state that may be isolated to a particular person or group), the genre itself incarnates a more complex, socially dynamic model of hate in which the emotion operates through logics of projection perhaps best outlined by Freud. In the “hate-attribution” genre, that is, hate—like those equally abjected categories “sentimentality,” “worldliness” or “knowingness” broached by Sedgwick in her bravura analyses of “scapegoating attribution” (150-158)—finds its clearest expression in and through the labor of its own adscription. And it should come as no surprise that an emotion so widely devalued, where it is not openly prohibited, might also find expression in less overt form.Yet to say as much is by no means to discredit the genre. As legal scholar Jeremy Waldron has recently pointed out, there’s no particular reason why “the passions and emotions that lie behind a particular speech act” (34)—even up to and including hate—should devalue the speech acts they rouse. On the contrary, to pin the despicable and damaging activities of the so-called “alt right” on “hate” is, if anything, to do an injustice to a rich and complex emotion that can be as generative as it can be destructive. As Freud suggests in “Group Psychology and the Analysis of the Ego,” for example, hate may be the very seed of love, since the forms of “social feeling” (121) celebrated under the liberal rubric of “tolerance,” “love,” and “compassion,” are grounded in “the reversal of what was first a hostile feeling into a positively-toned tie in the nature of an identification” (121; italics mine). Indeed, Freud projects this same argument across a larger, historical canvas in Civilization and its Discontents, which contends that it is in our very struggle to combat our “aggressive instincts” that human communities have developed “methods intended to incite people into identifications and aim-inhibited relationships of love” (31). For Freud, that is, the practice of love is a function of ongoing efforts to see hate harnessed, commuted and transformed. III.What might it mean, then, to call time on this round of hate-attribution? What sort of “alternatives” might emerge when we abandon the assumption that political engagement entails a “struggle over who has the right to declare themselves as acting out of love” (Ahmed, Cultural Politics 131), and thus, by that same token, a struggle over the exact location and source of hate? One boon, I suggest, is the license it gives those of us on the progressive left to simply own our own hate. There’s little doubt that reframing the dangerous and destructive forms of speech fomented by Trump’s campaign, not as eruptions of hate, or even as “hate-speech,” but as speech we hate would be more consistent with what once seemed affect theory’s first commandment: to take our own affective temperature before launching headlong into critical analysis. After all, when Lauren Berlant (“Trump”) takes a stab at economist Paul Krugman’s cautions against “the Danger of Political Emotions” with the timely reminder that “all the messages are emotional,” the “messages” she’s pointing to aren’t just those of our political others, they’re ours; and the “emotions” she’s pointing to aren’t just the evacuated, insouciant versions of love championed by the Clinton campaign, they’re of the messier, or as Ngai might put it, “uglier” (2) variety—from shame, depression and anger, to, yes, I want to insist, hate.By way of jump-starting this program of hate-avowal, then, let me just say it: this essay was animated, in part, by a certain kind of hate. The social critic in me hates the breathtaking simplification of the complex social, economic and emotional forces animating Trump voters that seem to actuate some liberal commentary; the psychologist in me hates the self-mystification palpable in the left’s insistence on projecting and thus disowning its own (often very well justified) aggressions; and the human being in me, hating the kind of toxic speech to which Trump’s campaign has given rise, wishes to be able to openly declare that hatred. Among its other effects, hate is characterized by hypervigilance for lapses or failings in an object it deems problematic, a hypervigilance that—sometimes—animates analysis (Zeki and Romoya). In this sense, “hate” seems entitled to a comfortable place in the ranks of what Nick Salvato has recently dubbed criticism’s creative “obstructions”—phenomena that, while “routinely identified as detriments” to critical inquiry, may also “form the basis for … critical thinking” (1).Yet while one boon associated with this disclosure might be a welcome intellectual honesty, a more significant boon, I’d argue, is what getting this disclosure out of the way might leave room for. Opting out of the game of hurling “hate” back and forth across a super-charged political arena, that is, we might devote our column inches and Facebook posts to the less sensational but more productive task of systematically challenging the specious claims, and documenting the damaging effects, of a species of utterance (Butler; Matsuda; Waldron) we’ve grown used to simply descrying as pure, distilled “hate”. And we also might do something else. Relieved of the confident conviction that we can track “Trumpism” to a spontaneous outbreak of a single, localizable emotion, we might be able to offer a fuller account of the economic, social, political and affective forces that energize it. Certainly, hate plays a part here—although the process by which, as Isabelle Stengers puts it, affect “make[s] present, vivid and mattering … a worldly world” (371) demands that we scrutinize that hate as a syndrome, rather than simply moralize it as a sin, addressing its mainsprings in a moment marked by the nerve-fraying and life-fraying effects of what has become known across the social sciences and critical humanities as conditions of social and economic “precarity” (Muehlebach; Neil and Rossiter; Stewart).But perhaps hate’s not the only emotion tucked away under the hood. Here’s something affect theory knows today: affect moves not, as more traditional theorists of political emotion have it, “unambiguously and predictably from one’s cognitive processing,” but in ways that are messy, muddled and indirect (Gould 24). That form of speech is speech we hate. But it may not be “hate speech.” That crime is a crime we hate. 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