A Reflection on Josephine

I watched The Josephine Baker Story and took a tour of a district in Paris where she along with Richard Wright and James Baldwin (among others that I wasn't so familiar with) lived, sang, wrote, philosophized, danced, and above all escaped the immediate pressures of racism in America. France has a long history with Black ex pats, which is not news to me, but is just hard to understand given my research topic in French racism and racialization.

It's hard to imagine feeling like you can be anyone and anything in a place without feeling like you are being judged by the color of your skin. As I understand more how power and privilege work in concert with oppression, I am increasingly aware of their operation in my every day life, despite my frequent changes in environment. Therefore I feel a bit jealous of people like Baker and Baldwin, who could feel relief in a new place, rather than blindsided by a different form of blatant racism.

Of course what really confuses me is how France could prove to be such a mecca for Black artists and authors, while France still had its colonies. Sure, mainland France was a haven, but I doubt they would have felt the same way about France if they had done to Martinique or Guadeloupe. It just makes me feel that France has and always will struggle in its identity as both "benefactor" and oppressor.

This is why I have a newfound appreciation for Josephine Baker. Her and I go way back, actually, when my mom used to play her movies in order to help me with my French comprehension. My favorite was Princess Tam Tam, which was pretty much the rags-to-riches story to Black folk. Interestingly enough, the film, which came out in the 1930s, was banned in the US because it featured Baker in a relationship with a white man. Anyway, I used to watch this one part over and over: a white woman was jealous of Josephine's relationship with white dude, and tried to get Josephine to embarrass herself by getting her drunk and then pushing her to dance in front of a whole bunch of high society white folk. Dance she did, and go figure, the white folk loved it. What struck me about that scene, even as a child, was how free she was. She was able to get on stage, strip down, and dance her heart away--she didn't give a damn about what anyone thought. She lived her life that way too. When she couldn't get what she wanted in America, she moved to Paris, and became the first well known Black woman celebrity and millionaire. She was what they call a "triple threat": actor, singer, dancer, and eventually civil rights activist, decorated military servicewoman (smuggled information during WWII in order to help the Resistance), serial wife (she had a total of 6 husbands, but didn't sleep exclusively with men), and mother (12 adopted, multi-racial children, whom she called her "Rainbow Tribe").

She was a diva, but never forgot where she came from--which is why it took her so long to go back in the first place. She was an entertainer, but refused to play for segregated audiences. She was often in the company of white people, but never tried to pretend she was one of them. She was as exotic as she was classic. I admire her courage and love.