Language is presented to us in the Western world as so black and white; so absolute.  

Contracts use language that inextricably bind people to obligations.  Witnesses use language that impacts the freedom or lack thereof of a defendant.  Historians use words to chronicle the narrative that defines who we are and how we see ourselves in relation to the world.  All these words are written with authority.  They seem so definite.  But language is manmade and therefore subject to human fallibility.  It is not absolute.  It is conditional.  It lives and breathes and evolves.

For example, the word “revolution” didn’t always have the aforementioned definitions.  According to etymological records, the late Middle English origins of the word “revolution” reveal a meaning of to “turn the eyes back,” restore, consider. Latin origins point to the word “revolvere” where the “re,” means “back” (also expressing intensive force) and “volvere,” means “roll.”  The etymology of “theatre” points to the Latin “theatrum” and the Greek “theasthai” meaning, “to behold.”  

So, revolutionary theatre, in its original context, meant beholding a forced consideration or restoration of the past.  Revolution could be the Adinkra concept of Sankofa, a beautiful long-necked bird, facing forward but looking back in order to snatch up the golden egg of wisdom before carrying on.

There is a lot of wisdom in the thoughts, words and deeds of our predecessors — wisdom that we could and should carry forward.  

The literary culture bearers of the past — the Renaissance’s luminaries Hurston, Hughes, Cullen, Toomer, Fauset, Johnson, Locke, among them — feed into the Black Arts renegades Shange, Teer, Milner, Kennedy, Childress, Ward, Wesley, Baraka, Bullins, and the like, who feed directly into …well, us.  The continuum of the revolutionary struggle for inclusion, respect, value and the allowance of authenticity stretches even further back for sure — and, possibly, sadly, will extend even further beyond us.  

We’re not starting a revolution in the American theatre (or anywhere else, for that matter), we’ve inherited one.

To the early Harlem Renaissance era cultural leaders, it was revolutionary to write in the King’s English.  Black writers and intelligentsia believed that if they could just do what white people do better than they do it, our humanity would be undeniable to them and we’d be permitted to live dignified lives, whereby dignified meant equal to and embracing of white culture.  

Later, the Renaissance artists were encouraged by their white benefactors to embrace their “primitive,” authentically Black expressions.  For the first time, Black writers were lauded for doing so, as many whites felt that Western society had developed in such a refined manner, it no longer had “soul,” and Black people were useful in restoring them to their intrinsic, animalistic, natural impulses.  

The Black Arts Movement, on the other hand, was one that was not curated as directly by the white power structures.  It was a grassroots effort that launched, among other things, hundreds of Black-led theatres across the country, of which less than 10 remain.  “For us, by us” might have been their motto, but, full disclosure, many of those institutions began with the support of white foundations (and I don’t blame them one bit), and because of that origin, they perhaps largely remained under the Eurocentric/white supremacist economic and aesthetic standards for the duration of their existence. 

At its apex, the only theatrical pathway that was really for us and by us in the American theatre, to my limited knowledge, was the Chitterling Circuit — a series of venues that were set up in segregated Black communities where independently produced, live, theatrical performances could tour for the benefit of Black audiences.  

Around those venues grew an economy to support the events of the shows.  And the Black people who made that money largely returned to Black communities to spend that money because the country was segregated by law. The popularity of these Chitterling Circuit offerings was due entirely to the patronage of Black people — the stories they wanted to see, the way they wanted to see them, was crucial for any production’s success.  

Later during the Black Arts movement, Etheridge Knight called for a return to the FUBU mindset:

• “Unless the Black artist establishes a ‘Black aesthetic,’ he will have no future at all. To accept the white aesthetic is to accept and validate a society that will not allow him to live. The Black artist must create new forms and new values, sing new songs (or purify old ones); and along with other Black authorities, he must create a new history, new symbols, myths and legends (and purify old ones by fire). And the Black artist, in creating his own aesthetic, must be accountable for it only to the Black people.” 

Though we were born into these circumstances, now it is our turn to take the reins of this centuries-old revolution — this application of our will for the overthrow of white supremacist power structures, this new attempt at the forced change of the center around which we rotate.  But if we are to honor the etymology, part of the revolution is looking back and considering.  With that in mind, check these quotes from 50 years ago:

• “Currently, these writers are re-evaluating Western aesthetic, the traditional role of the writer, and the social function of art. Implicit in this re-evaluation is the need to develop a ‘Black aesthetic.’ It is the opinion of many Black writers, I among them, that the Western aesthetic has run its course: It is impossible to construct anything meaningful within its decaying structure. We advocate a cultural revolution in art and ideas. The cultural values inherent in Western history must either be radicalized or destroyed . . .”  —Larry Neal
•  
• “The motive behind the Black aesthetic is the destruction of the white thing, the destruction of white ideas and white ways of looking at the world. The new aesthetic is mostly predicated on an ethics that asks the question: Whose vision of the world is finally more meaningful: ours or the white oppressors’? What is truth? Or, more precisely, whose truth shall we express, that of the oppressed or of the oppressors? These are basic questions. Black intellectuals of previous decades failed to ask them.” — Larry Neal
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• “In a context of world upheaval, ethics and aesthetics must interact positively and be consistent with the demands for a more spiritual world. Consequently, the Black Arts Movement is an ethical movement. Ethical, that is, from the viewpoint of the oppressed. And much of the oppression confronting the Third World and Black America is directly traceable to the Euro-American cultural sensibility. This sensibility, anti-human in nature, has, until recently, dominated the psyches of most Black artists and intellectuals. It must be destroyed before the Black creative artists can have a meaningful role in the transformation of society.” — Larry Neal
•  
• “I will never again involve myself with what I call secondary consciousness. I will never see myself, see other Black women, see Black men, and Black children secondarily, through the eyes of the oppressor … the slave master … I maintain that I will never in my life walk secondarily again — or even appear to have any secondary views. If you approach me, you must approach me on an equal level.” –Sonia Sanchez
•  
• “Revolutionary theatre must take dreams and give them a reality.  It must isolate the ritual and historical cycles of reality. But it must be food for all these who need food, and daring propaganda for the beauty of the Human Mind. It is a political theatre, a weapon to help in the slaughter of these dimwitted fat-bellied white guys who somehow believe that the rest of the world is here for them to slobber on.  This should be a theatre of World Spirit.  Where the spirit can be shown to be the most competent force in the world …. We will talk about the world, and the preciseness with which we are able to summon the world, will be our art.” — Amiri Baraka

These words could be spoken today.  These calls to action, these revolutionary concepts, are not new.  The protest.  The sit-in.  The boycott.  The march.  The non-violent direct action.  The whistle-blow.  The working twice as hard for half as much.  The inspirational speeches in the King’s English.  The insurrection.  The minding our own damn business and building our own systems only to have them all torched from underneath us.  The infiltration and assimilation of the systems to change them from within.  The media appeals to morality and humanity.  The defection to what we hoped were more favorable lands.  

All these strategies are well worn, yes, but, despite the generations, we have never lost our desire to apply our will, or our desire to behold a rolling back or reconsideration of the axis point around which we revolve.  Not never.  Something in us knows this must happen.  Something in us knows that accomplishing an irreversible and unequivocal revolution against white supremacy is the answer, the only answer, to any sustained freedom, dignity, health and humanity for Black, Indigenous and people of color.

So, it’s our turn to take the next evolutionary step in this epic tale. But while we’re neither a part of nor have we created anything new in this revolution, we must press forward.  

Have we looked back and retrieved the golden wisdom that will finally and truly unseat this white supremacist system?  Have we looked back and gotten the golden wisdom that would unite Black, Indigenous and people of color, and inform the new power paradigm we should install after we forcibly remove white supremacy?  

Have we looked back to identify the tools we should use in our overthrow?  Have we looked back and gotten the wisdom that will inform the new narrative we should construct to create context and give meaning to our identity and understanding of life in the absence of the narrative that has been thrust upon us? 

Have we looked back to identify different economic models, other aesthetics, other beliefs and values on which to center our revolution — ones that are in alignment with nature, not depleting of it?  Do we know where we stand in the continuum?  Are we willing to change our internal iceberg and our outward behaviors and practices?  Do we have the will to apply some force in order for this change to once and for all occur?  

Or are we just talking in circles?