Practices of Rooting & Spaces

of Performative Becoming:

An Exploration of British

Caribbean Diasporic

Identities through Dance

Submitted by Tia-Monique Uzor

To De Montfort University as a thesis for the degree of Doctor of Philosophy in

Dance

September 2020

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Abstract

This thesis is concerned with how identity forms within the movement of British Caribbean Diasporic

artists. The study focuses on how this occurs within the work of H Patten, Greta Mendez, Jamila

Johnson-Small, and Akeim Toussaint Buck.

Using an interdisciplinary theoretical framework, the thesis offers the notion practices of rooting as a

cultural process that British Caribbean Diasporic people engage in to negotiate their identities.

Through reading the case study artists’ work, the research determines that practices of rooting that are

choreographic form what it conceptualises as spaces of performative becoming through which the

case study artists (re)create, affirm and establish their identities.

The research reads the choreography of the case study artists through observations that it has made

from live and recorded performance. Further insights into each artist have been gained through

engaging in conversation, performance, movement, and through a methodology created by this

research called embodied exchange sessions. Embodied exchange sessions are a process that uses

movement and conversation as a form of knowledge production that both artist and researcher

participate in. The thesis utilises embodied knowledge with information gained through the

aforementioned processes and places them in critical dialogue within a framework of analysis that

draws upon the work of theorists within Caribbean Studies, Cultural Studies, Dance Studies and

Postcolonial studies, including the work of Stuart Hall, Edouard Glissant, Homi Bhabha, Paul Gilroy,

W.E.B Du Bois, Rex Nettleford, Yvonne Daniels, and Susan Foster.

This thesis reveals how choreography can function as a means of establishing multiplicitous, complex,

and transnational British Caribbean Diasporic identities when it is engaged with as a practice of

rooting. The analysis of choreographic work created by British Caribbean Diasporic artists gives

insights into British Caribbean Diasporic identities as they continue to expand, shift, and grow,

allowing for a comprehensive understanding of the nuances present within such identities.

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Contents Abstract ...................................................................................................................................... i Contents .................................................................................................................................... ii Acknowledgements ................................................................................................................. iv

Prologue .................................................................................................................................... 2

Chapter 1: Introduction .......................................................................................................... 6

1.1 Methods ............................................................................................................................ 8

1.1.1 Data collection ......................................................................................................... 10

1.1.2 Framework of analysis............................................................................................. 17

1.2 Interdisciplinary Positions .............................................................................................. 18

1.3 Thesis Overview and Chapter Plan ................................................................................ 30

Chapter 2: Locating British Caribbean Diasporic Identities ............................................ 34

2.1 Locating British Caribbean Diasporic Identities ............................................................ 35

2.1.1 Postmodern and Modern identities .......................................................................... 35

2.1.2 British Caribbean Diasporic Identities .................................................................... 39

2.1.3 Britishness ............................................................................................................... 42

2.1.4 Caribbean Identities ................................................................................................. 48

2.1.5 Diasporic Identities .................................................................................................. 67

2.2 A Historical Overview of British Caribbean Diasporic Identities ................................. 74

2.3 Conclusion ...................................................................................................................... 99

Chapter 3: Dance and British Caribbean Diasporic Identities ....................................... 101

3.1 Dancing in Caribbean Contact Zones ........................................................................... 102

3.2 Windrush and Beyond - 1940s-1970s .......................................................................... 116

3.3 First-generation Artists 1970s-1990s ........................................................................... 127

3.3.1 African and Caribbean Dance Companies ............................................................. 131

3.3.2 Contemporary Dance and British Caribbean Diasporic artists .............................. 136

3.4 Second-generation Artists 1990s -2019 ....................................................................... 145

Chapter 4: Practices of Rooting and Spaces of Performative Becoming ........................ 155

4.1 Practices of rooting ....................................................................................................... 156

4.2 Performative Becoming ................................................................................................ 165

4.3 Conclusion .................................................................................................................... 172

Chapter 5: Reading Rooting in H Patten’s Ina De Wildanis ............................................ 173

Chapter 6: Reading Rooting in Greta Mendez’s Programme of Extracts ..................... 202

Chapter 7: Reading Rooting in Jamila Johnson-Small’s i ride in soft colour and focus/ no longer anywhere ............................................................................................................... 222

Chapter 8: Reading Rooting in Akeim Toussaint Buck’s Windows of Displacement ..... 247

Chapter 9: Conclusion ......................................................................................................... 266

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9.1 Practices of Rooting ..................................................................................................... 268

9.1.1 Double Consciousness ........................................................................................... 269

9.1.2 Caribcentric ........................................................................................................... 272

9.1.3 Resistance .............................................................................................................. 280

9.2 Spaces of Performative Becoming ............................................................................... 284

Appendix A: Introduction to the Case Study Artists ....................................................... 293

H Patten .............................................................................................................................. 293

Greta Mendez ..................................................................................................................... 293

Jamila Johnson-Small ......................................................................................................... 294

Akeim Toussaint Buck ....................................................................................................... 295

Appendix B: Glossary of Africanist Movement Aesthetics .............................................. 296

Curvilinear .......................................................................................................................... 296

Cultural Fusions/Inclusions ................................................................................................ 296

Dimensionality ................................................................................................................... 297

Epic Memory ...................................................................................................................... 298

Polycentric .......................................................................................................................... 298

Polyrhythm ......................................................................................................................... 299

The Aesthetic of the Cool................................................................................................... 300

Bibliography ......................................................................................................................... 302

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Acknowledgements

All praise and glory to Jesus, my saviour who has been with me every hour.

I would like to thank Midlands4Cities and De Montfort University for supporting this research, through this opportunity I have grown beyond what I imagined. I would especially like to thank Sally Doughty, Michael Huxley and Marie Hay for all their support during this process.

A very special thank you goes to my supervisors; I have walked with Ramsay for over ten years and he has always gone out of his way to encourage me. Patricia Noxolo has stretched and pushed my thinking and shown me the value of my narrative with love, kindness, and dedication. I never knew how much I needed a Black woman on my side until I met you. Thank you both.

I would also like to express my gratitude to the case study artists of this research, Jamila Johnson-Small, H Patten, Akeim Toussaint Buck, and Greta Mendez. Through laughter, tears, movement, frustration and love you have shared so much. Without you, this research would not be possible. I pray this work reflects all the greatness I see in you and your work.

A big shout out and thank you goes to my wider dance family, who have given me words of encouragement and invigorated me with hugs and dance. I want to say a special thank you to Alesandra Seutin, ‘Funmi Adewole, Thomas Presto, Vicki Igbokwe, Adesola Akinleye and Freddie Opoku-Addaie, whose words of life and practical support helped me through the darkest of times.

Thank you to my best friends, Belinda, Robert, Busi, Sheree, Anna, Sam, my Chroma Church family, and Rev. Sammy who have been patient and praying for me.

A special thank you to CJ Uzor, the man of my life and my amazing husband. You have been my rock and held it down when I was losing it. I could not have done this without you. Thank you, my love.

Thank you to the Knight family and the Uzor family

I stand on the shoulders of Melford and Loretta Knight, thank you for making the journey from Jamaica to England all those years ago.

I stand because of the sacrifices made by my mother Pamela Patricia Knight, thank you forever.

I stand so that Aletheia Uzor will have a better future, this thesis is for you.

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Prologue

Kitson Town, Jamaica 1996

By the time we had landed, it was dark. I breathed in the heavy humid air as we walked

towards the gate of my grandparent’s house. Under my feet the red clay my mother had

warned me about was still moist from the earlier rain. As we arrived at the veranda a flood of

tungsten light hit our eyes as the door burst open. Shouts of joy and displays of affection

ensued around me. I was five and was not used to the thick Jamaican accent of my relatives.

Back in England I only heard these Caribbean melodies down the phone, or in much softer

twangs spoken by my mother and aunties. “Ee,ee!” my mother replied to a question I hadn’t

heard “she loves tuh daance! Go on Tia, do the Butterfly!” she insisted. I of course refused. I

was not ready to show my Jamaican family my Dancehall endeavours just yet. My mother

encouraged me, “Go on!” and so, there, in my grandmother’s living room, fresh off the plane

I danced.

Colchester, Essex 1999

Muuum! How do you count in Jamaican?!? I asked as I lifted myself between the counters of

our galley kitchen to swing my legs. Mum was cooking rice and peas. The smell of garlic,

scallion and kidney beans was making my mouth water. “In Patois” she corrected me, “Wan.

Too. Tree …”. My mother laughed at my anglicised attempts as I repeated after her. The

sound of Dennis Brown blasted from the dining room next to us. I jumped down, leaving my

mum to finish cooking. Led by the smooth golden OOs of Dennis, I went to the dining room

and stood in front of the huge mirror on the wall and began to dance.

Dulwich, London 2000

The best thing about going to my Auntie Carmen’s house is that I get to see my cousins. As

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one of the only brown-skinned girls in my school, it was in spaces like this that I could really

sink deep into my type of melanin - the Jamaican type. This was a happy place, plus they had

MTV Base. My closest cousin Nadine and I would often sneak away leaving the young ones

to fight over toys. We would sing in corridors, gossip on beds, and play hand-clapping

games:

Down down baby,

down down the roller coaster,

sweet sweet baby,

I’ll never let you go…

Mama, Mama, sick in bed,

call the doctor and the doctor said,

have you got a rhythm for your head

have you got a rhythm for your hands,

have you got a rhythm for your feet,

have you got a rhythm for your hotdog?

We would move our heads, clap our hands, stamp our feet, and wave our bodies in perfect

unison, falling into laughter to finish. On one occasion I remember being called downstairs to

eat dinner – fish and chips. Everybody piled into the living room (not to be mistaken for the

prestigious front room) to eat off greasy paper. As we ate conversation turned to the popular

Dancehall move Heel Toe. Someone jumped up to demonstrate and was met with shouts of

“Nooo!”, “move man!” and “that’s not it!”. Another cousin took their chances and faced

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similar disapproval. Finally, my big cousin Vanessa stood up, “you lot don’t know how to do

it, it’s like this”. With fresh white Nike trainers on and her torso slightly bent, she

demonstrated the dance. Her feet hot and fast, her face collected and cool.

De Montfort University, Leicester 2008

My desire to dance led me here. I am in the second year of my undergraduate degree in

Dance and Drama sitting in a Dance History seminar group. I listen to the lecturer as they,

once again, divulge information on another white European choreographer and their influence

on British Dance. I try to stay focused – keep my mind from wondering – but it isn’t working.

Where are all the brown-skinned choreographers? Knowing the significance of dance within

African and African diasporic communities as a means for imagining the future and survival,

I questioned why the artistic productions of brown-skinned choreographers and their

narratives were not being discussed. I left the class and the questions came with me. I

wondered how a person like me, a British Caribbean Diasporic woman might exist within the

British dance space. A space that did not truly comprehend what dance did for us or meant

for us. What it meant for me.

Toubab Dilaow, Senegal 2018

Dancing on this land, this new yet old land. This land that is known to my spirit yet estranged

from my knowledge. Here, there is a tension. A dispute between my body and my thoughts

that sees them tussle for dominance. I use this tension in my classes at Ecoles des Sables,

learning to move through internal strife and find pleasure. During our breaks we go to the sea,

a welcome respite from sweating in the studios. Once, I stood with a friend looking across the

horizon, imagining what lay beyond in the distance. The Atlantic. In this water I could

subsume every land my people have called home. The Caribbean, UK, Africa, America. We

5

got in and the once calm sea soon changed its temperament, as if calling me back, calling me

in. Our bodies were swallowed whole. With every undulating wave the current pulled me

deeper my body jolting and spiralling through an expanse of fragmented history, through the

collective tumultuous cultural memories of my ancestors.

--

Through my life and training, I (as others like me) have navigated a space in which I am

neither deemed as African, British nor Caribbean. As British Caribbean Diasporic people, we

dance in the liminal space of many identities, drawing from them what we will. As we

migrate across geographies foreign and familiar, we plant ourselves, growing into cultural

landscapes. Engaging in practices of rooting we carry our (hi)stories and are agile, adapting

quickly and creating new expressions through which to burrow down. As Derek Walcott

(2005) expresses, it has taken our race hundreds of years to ‘… feel the fibres spread from the

splayed toes and grip this earth, the arms knot into boles and put out leaves.’ (2005, 57).

Through the fractures of a colonial disease and oppression we sink and permeate down,

discovering, and rediscovering forms and iterations of ourselves. Movement offers the

possibility to experience and explore both continuity and change through the different

iterations of our British Caribbean Diasporic identities, the body functioning as our creative

tool through which we carve out spaces of performative becoming. This is my experience. As

Trinh Minh-ha (1991) says when talking about her concept of writing from within, ‘[…] I

write to show myself showing people who show myself my own showing (1989, p.22).

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Chapter 1: Introduction

This thesis is about identity formation within the choreography of British Caribbean

Diasporic artists. The study conducts a comprehensive interdisciplinary analysis of four

pieces of solo choreography created by four artists who have been chosen as case studies.

Dance scholarship has an extensive history of engaging with discourses around dance and

identity within and beyond contemporary dance practice from an interdisciplinary approach.

Within these discussions, however, there has been little focus on the practices of British

Caribbean Diasporic artists. Dance scholarship that has looked at British Caribbean Diasporic

artists and their choreography has tended to focus on wider socio-economic and political

factors that impact their work or has made limited observations on the relationship between

movement and identity. This thesis aims to build on and augment previous approaches and

discourses around British Caribbean Diasporic artists through an interdisciplinary theoretical

approach that sees Postcolonial studies, Caribbean studies, Cultural studies, and Dance

Studies being drawn into conversation with the historical and socio-political contexts of the

case study artists. This allows for an exploration of the intersecting and complex issues

around British Caribbean Diasporic identities. The research does this whilst adopting an

approach that places the voices of the case study artists and their work at the centre of its

analysis. In doing this, the thesis engages with choreographed movement and the body as a

construct that can be “read” as a system of meaning through which to gain an understanding

of identity and cultural processes (Foster, 1986). It, therefore, offers an approach to analysing

choreographed movement of British Caribbean Diasporic artists that goes beyond metaphors

for lineages of history. The research encounters these artists’ movement as a tool through

which we can comprehend how they express, embody and navigate their identities through

concepts I identify as practices of rooting and spaces of performative becoming (more in

7

section 2). This research deems a British Caribbean Diasporic person to be an individual who

was either born in the Caribbean and migrated to the United Kingdom in their youth or an

individual who was born in the United Kingdom to parents who are of Caribbean heritage. I

stand in this world as a child of Jamaican and Bajan parents who, having been brought up in

England, has embodied the complexity of a multiplicitous identity. It became evident during

the 2018 Windrush Scandal1 in the UK that British Caribbean Diasporic identities are not as

stable as we once believed, not quite belonging in Britain but alienated from the Caribbean.

These recent revelations evidence the importance of conducting this research, which reveals

the ways movement works through the intricacies of British Caribbean Diasporic identities to

establish them in an unstable and oppressive environment.

This research has chosen to look at the work of four independent British Caribbean Diasporic

dance artists. By looking at the work of independent dance practitioners the research can gain

insight into the personal narratives and histories that inform the solo work of these artists.

This provides a more explicit link to identity than the choreographic productions of dance

companies as artists have more creative freedom and are not bound by the company

movement style or technical details. The case study artists of this research are H Patten, Greta

Mendez, Jamila Johnson-Small and Akeim Toussaint Buck2.

1A political scandal that emerged in 2017 concerning mainly British Caribbean Diasporic people who were falsely detained, threatened with deportation and denied legal rights by the UK Government, more in chapter two. 2 A short introduction to each case study artist is available in Appendix A

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1.1 Methods

To answer the research questions of this thesis a methodology was created that allowed for 1)

the collation of material for analysis, and 2) a theoretical framework of analysis that

considered the choreographic work and the historical and socio-political contexts that the

work was produced in. The development of the methodology for this research is reflective of

a practice that has been organically developing since 2011 through my journey in research.

This research practice is one that embraces an interdisciplinary approach to attain a depth of

comprehension around issues and questions that are multi-layered, interpretive, and complex

in nature. This section will outline the two aspects of this research’s methodology: the data

collection and the framework of analysis. First, however, this section will briefly discuss its

postcolonial approach and its choice of case study artists.

This thesis takes a postcolonial approach to consider British Caribbean Diasporic identities

and the case study artists’ choreography within the global context of its geography and

history. In doing this the research seeks to make hidden narratives visible and tell the stories

of those that are implicated in the legacy of colonial rule from a perspective other than that of

the coloniser, as Leela Gandhi puts it, ‘[…] to sound the muted voice of the truly oppressed’

(Gandhi, 1998, p.2). This method is adopted in the study over a decolonial approach in an

effort to rearticulate our understanding of dominant discourses. The research does this whilst

still acknowledging the entanglement between both areas of thought (See: Bhambra, 2014;

Noxolo, 2018). Decolonial theory does have a stake within the analysis of this research (see

chapters seven and nine), however, it is important to make explicit the study’s postcolonial

framing. The postcolonial approach of this thesis is used to subvert Eurocentric ideologies

that are written onto dancing brown bodies and the movement that they produce aiming to

displace Western ‘value-coding’ (Spivak and Harasym, 1990, p.228). Whilst there is no

9

denying the influence of Western dance aesthetics and its approaches to dance within British

Caribbean Diasporic artistic productions, these artistic productions are often considered to be

substandard, even when they align with Eurocentric ideologies (Gottschild, 2005; Uzor,

2018d). To counter this, the analysis of British Caribbean Diasporic forms (and other forms

like it) need to be considered within a frame that is inclusive of the values of British

Caribbean Diasporic communities and understands the bodies that move in those

communities.

A postcolonial approach opens the analysis of this research to consider the ‘culturally diverse

texture’ (Sörgel, 2007, p.155) of Caribbean people and their dance aesthetics. This is the

recognition that these aesthetics are as much ‘modern as ancestral’, harkening back to a past

in West Africa and reflecting the creation of new life in the West Indies. Consequently, the

modern aesthetics produced in the Caribbean cannot solely be attributed to Western

aesthetics, nor can it be considered as an entirely West African form, it is African, European,

Asian, and more. Caribbean dance and its derivatives ‘embodies a nucleus of diversity, which

indeed holds claim to universality’ (Sörgel, 2007, p.155). When considering diasporic dances

therefore, it does not serve the dance nor the people who dance it to adopt an exclusively

Eurocentric frame of reference. The values Eurocentric dance embodies are not reflected in

African and African diasporic dances in the same way. Many African and African diasporic

dances originate from social and religious forms before they were developed into “formal”

Western theatrical contexts. Dance also plays a specific role within these societies and is

placed at the centre of the community. Thus, Caribbean dance must not as, Rex Nettleford

(1990) recognises ‘accept the current classificatory scheme of dance-art […] into classical

[meaning European]’ (Nettleford, 1990, p.1). A reconsideration and reframing of ‘questions

of aesthetics, standards of excellence and practice’ needs to occur if Caribbean dance is to be

10

‘released from the current Eurocentric bias’ (Nettleford, 1990, p.1). Through a postcolonial

approach this research seeks to add to the body of work that transforms westernised

narratives, both historical and theoretical (Bhambra, 2014, p.16) by making visible the work

of British Caribbean Diasporic artists and reinscribing their narratives into British dance

holistically. In this way, the research aims to interrupt Western discourses through displacing

the ‘post slavery narratives and the critically theoretical perspectives that they engender’

(Bhabha, 2004, p.199).

When choosing the case study artists, it was important that the artists were able to be

categorised within the research’s definition of a British Caribbean Diasporic individual. In

addition to this, the research needed to be equally representative of those who identify as

female and those who identify as male3. In consideration of these factors and with the

resources available to me at the time, I chose Greta Mendez, H Patten, Jamila Johnson-Small,

and Akeim Toussaint Buck as case study artists.

1.1.1 Data collection

The methods for collecting primary material from the case study artists occurred through

three processes, semi-structured interviews, live performance or recorded performance where

live performance was not accessible, and embodied exchange sessions.

When conducting semi-structured interviews with the case study artists, it was important that

the interviews created a space of fellowship rather than of conquest (Benjamin, 1988, p.192).

3 I recognise that gender categories can be limiting to some people and that there are different experiences of gender beyond male and female.

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This was necessary for the research to access the type of information that would allow for

insight into the case studies’ artistic practice, personal narratives, and experiences as British

Caribbean Diasporic individuals. I would like to emphasise here, that a contributing factor to

the process of setting up and conducting these interviews was my familiarity with each of the

case study artists. Being a part of the same small field within British dance has afforded me

the privilege to interact with these artists in contexts inside and outside of academia.

Consequently, I was able to lead the interviews with personal connections. The interviews

were conducted with the intention to create a space of communion and intimacy with the

artists (Hermanowicz, 2002, p.480). The emphasis throughout this process was listening,

asking questions, and then probing further. The importance of listening to your participant is

emphasised by Hermanowicz (2002) in his paper The Great Interview. Focussing on listening

to your participant can lead to conversations that would not necessarily arise without careful

attention to what is being said. This is especially significant within this research as the

subjects were talking about their personal experience. Hearing what is being said and

responding accordingly, rather than sticking to what is on the interview guide as a method of

conducting the interviews allowed for flexibility. Strategies such as listening and probing that

Hermanowicz suggests, are tools that if applied well can be used to have conversations that

bring us to an ‘intimate understanding of people and their social worlds’ (Hermanowicz,

2002, p.480) or in the case of this research a more in-depth understanding into the artistic

processes of these artists and the contexts in which they exist.

Although I have had some association with all the case study artists before this research it

was still necessary to cultivate a space of trust between myself and the case study artists. This

was due to a number of factors, including the power dynamics between the case study artist

and researcher, the artists wanting to feel in control of their narrative, and the protection of

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intellectual property. Here Douglas Ezzy’s (2010) theories on interviewing as an embodied

emotional performance are of significance. Ezzy emphasises the emotional framing of the

interview as being significant to both the attainment of a good interview and significant to the

analysis process. Presenting your ‘vulnerable self’ (Ellis, 1999, p.699) can play an integral

role within the methodological process within research. Hermanowicz emphasises the

participant being able to detect openness within the interviewer ‘… But if respondents are

able to detect openness on the part of the interviewer […] they themselves will be more likely

to talk openly, to delve into detail and convey meaning’ (Hermanowicz, 2002, p.493). In

consideration of Ezzy’s observations, it was necessary to have repeated interaction with each

artist. This research aimed to achieve two research engagements with each case study artist.

Through the process of conducting interviews, this research had the privilege of accessing

personal narratives and insights into the artistic processes of the case study artists that will be

used in chapters five to nine to consider how these artists are engaging in practices of rooting

and creating spaces of performative becoming through their choreography.

In addition to semi-structured interviews, an important aspect of collecting primary material

for analysis was to access live performances and video recordings of each artist’s solo piece.

These performances provided the movement through which the analysis of this research was

conducted. It was my intention to attend live performances of each artist’s solo and access

video recordings of these performances. Through the research process, I was able to attend

live full-length performances of Akeim Toussaint Buck and Jamila Johnson-Small. I was also

able to attend a programme of extracts of work-in-progress pieces by Greta Mendez. In

addition to this, I was able to obtain video recordings of Buck and Patten’s pieces; a lack of

funding resources accessible to British Caribbean Diasporic artists has meant that archiving

their work has not been economically attainable or desirable.

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Being able to access the live performances of Johnson-Small, Buck, and Mendez allowed me

to experience the performance as it was intended to be experienced. This has had a significant

impact on the analysis of the research and will be discussed later in this section. The benefit

of having access to video recordings of Buck and Patten’s pieces is that I have been able to

watch and re-watch them over again. This worked particularly well with Buck as I

experienced the piece live, so the recording acts as a prompt for my embodied memory and

experience. For Patten, this presented a challenge, the analysis, therefore, has been restricted

to the camera angles and editing process (the recording is heavily edited). Consequently,

whilst I have been able to observe the recording of Patten’s piece repeatedly the research is

not able to comment on the experience of the piece from the perspective of the audience.

There was also a challenge in not having access to video recordings of Johnson-Small and

Mendez’s pieces. As a consequence of this, during the analysis process (which was

conducted months after the performance) I relied on memory and the notes I had taken after

the performance. Consequently, the descriptions of these pieces in chapters five to eight may

be subject to misremembering.

To address the issues arising from live and video material I found it necessary to include an

additional process of data collection. I developed embodied exchange sessions that allowed

for further insight into the case study artists’ artistic processes and movement practices. The

embodied exchange session was offered to each artist after the initial interview and went

ahead if they felt comfortable to participate. The embodied exchange values the process of

interviewing as an embodied emotional performance (Ezzy, 2010). This method does not

negate or replace observing movement within a live performance or video recording but

enhances them by connecting with the artists’ movement practices first-hand. Embodied

exchange uses movement and conversation as a form of knowledge production that is

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experienced by both me as the researcher and the artist participating. The result of this

method is an experience of embodied knowledge and memory, providing another layer of

material to draw from during analysis.

This process involves entering the studio space with a case study artist. At the beginning of a

session, we may move together, we share energy, and maybe improvise together. As

researcher, I then propose a series of questions that both myself and the artist will respond to

through movement. The artist and I take turns to choose a piece of music to move to respond

to each question, or there is also the option to move in silence. When our movement has

come to a natural end (one question can take well over ten minutes), we pause and take some

time to reflect alone and then come together to discuss. After this process, we have a more

extended conversation about the artist’s process and practice. Here, we might revisit some of

the questions that were asked during the semi-structured interviews. This process is audio

recorded to avoid the intrusion of the camera. The majority of the artists who agreed to

participate in the initial semi-structured interviews agreed to participate in the embodied

exchange sessions except for Jamila Johnson-Small, who as an artist is still exploring ways

that she can share her practice. Initially, Johnson-Small and I agreed that I would perform in

an installation that she had been commissioned to create, however to everyone’s

disappointment Johnson-Small had to withdraw due to a lack of professionalism4 from the

venue. As an alternative form of exchange, I attended one of Johnson-Small’s classes at

Independent Dance, though this class was not curated to the questions of the research,

4 This is not an anomaly but something that artists of African and African Diasporic heritage must manage frequently as their artistry is consistently not valued in the same way as their Caucasian counterparts.

15

Johnson-Small regularly opened a conversation to discuss the movement and its meaning

during the class. Consequently, I was able to engage in Johnson-Small’s movement practice

and receive embodied knowledge.

It has been important throughout this research for me to be aware of my own body, how it is

positioned, and what it is absorbing throughout the research process. My practice is an

essential tool in allowing for an embodied understanding of the research. Although this

research is theory-based, I did not want to detach my physical body from the research.

Therefore, throughout this process, I have maintained and enhanced my practice by attending

intensive workshops on African and African Diasporic traditional and Contemporary Dance

forms both nationally and internationally. Elise Paradis (2015) emphasises the importance of

her awareness to her own ethnographic body whilst conducting her research, in her paper she

recognises the different identities her body holds and the affect this has on her research

(Pardis, 2015). Similarly, Scarborough (2016) stresses the significance of his corporeal and

emotional experiences within embodied action and that participant observation offers a way

to gain access to knowledge held in the body (Scarborough, 2016). The embodied exchange

sessions of this research do not only aim to observe and experience the movement practices

of the artist for analysis but to also create a space in which the power structures of the

interviewer/interviewee relationship can be renegotiated in a space of shared investigation

and embodiment. Sharing a space of exploration with the artist also encourages a deeper

investigation into their practice and therefore yields results that may not be available from

solely conversing.

During my interactions with the case study artists, I found that I was able to reframe the

power dynamic with more ease with the younger artists. This could be because we are peers

and of the same generation. This was especially true for the interview process and the

16

embodied exchange session with Buck. The power dynamics within the class I took with

Johnson-Small remained in the conventional paradigm of teacher/student. I found it

challenging to direct the embodied exchange sessions and the interviews with the more

mature artists, who were filled with knowledge and history to share and tended to anticipate

my questions. There was also an uncomfortable balance between adhering to cultural

hierarchies of respecting my elders and guiding the artists towards the agenda of the research

that I had to manage from my position as a member of a younger generation in the British

Caribbean Diasporic community. This, I admit, was intimidating at times.

The observations and the experience that I gained during the live performance and embodied

exchange sessions play an important part within the interpretation of the findings of this

thesis. As stated in the introduction to this chapter, as a British Caribbean Diasporic woman

who is also a dancer I find myself within this research, and as a consequence, my history and

experiences have also become a part of the embodied knowledge and material collected for

analysis. Diana Taylor in her study Archive and the Repertoire: Performing Cultural Memory

in the Americas (2003) also recognises how being personally implicated within the research

affects the experience of attending performances, acknowledging that, ‘… we learn and

transmit knowledge through embodied action, through cultural agency, and by making

choices. Performance, for me [Taylor], functions as an episteme, a way of knowing, not

merely an object of analysis’ (Taylor, 2003, p.xvi). My experience of the live performances

and embodied exchange sessions will hold particular weight in guiding my interpretations

and analysis. All the pieces of work analysed within this thesis had audience participation,

which allowed me to engage with the piece beyond observation. Within the performance of

Johnson-Small’s piece, I was able to engage further through accepting an invitation by

Johnson-Small to dance with her on stage. The analysis and interpretations of this research

17

considers my experience and embodied knowledge gained through audience participation and

the embodied exchange sessions as primary material.

It is through these three processes of data collection that this research has been able to

approach the framework of analysis from an embodied centre which produces the knowledge

necessary to consider how identity construction occurs within choreography of movement for

the stage. This comprehensive and layered approach to the research is also one that is seen in

the composition of the framework of analysis.

1.1.2 Framework of analysis

The framework of analysis for this thesis has been developed to address the gaps in the

current discourses concerning British Caribbean Diasporic dance. This framework is made up

of five lenses through which the analysis will occur using the choreographic work, interviews

and embodied exchange sessions obtained during the data collection process. These lenses

are the historical context, the socio-political context, a postcolonial approach, movement

analysis, and finally, an interdisciplinary theoretical approach. This research prioritises

movement, and therefore movement analysis is at the heart of its framework of analysis. The

other four lenses work to allow for a comprehensive interpretation of the movement analysis

to gain an understanding of how engaging movement can establish British Caribbean

Diasporic identities.

The thesis utilises an interdisciplinary theoretical framework that draws on theorists from

Caribbean Studies, Cultural Studies, Dance Studies and Postcolonial Studies, including the

work of Stuart Hall, Edouard Glissant, Homi Bhabha, Paul Gilroy, W.E.B Du Bois, Rex

Nettleford, Yvonne Daniels, and L’Antoinette Stines. The framework places movement, and

18

dance practices at the centre of these areas of study and considers how identity construction

and affirmation occurs within the British Caribbean Diasporic context through the body. It is

important within the analysis of the performed movement material, that it is considered

within its historical, socio-political contexts. Considering the movement within its context

will allow for comprehensive interpretations of how the movement that these artists are

creating is able to establish, affirm and produce their identities within their own contexts.

The methods adopted for this research take a non-essentialist attitude (more in chapters two

and three). The research deals with four very different artists working in slightly different

spaces at different time periods and all within different contexts. Consequently, the

framework of analysis and the process of data collection adapts to suit the needs of the

research and the circumstances presented. The purpose of creating a process of data

collection and a framework of analysis is to enable new understandings of how British

Caribbean Diasporic artists’ work connect to their identities. This framework enables the

research to consider the artists comparatively and identify any differences. It is worth

mentioning that the artists and the work that is discussed in this thesis are not bound to the

ideas presented.

1.2 Interdisciplinary Positions

This section of the introductory chapter will engage with existing literature from Dance

Studies, Cultural Studies, Black Studies, and Caribbean Studies to position the thesis and its

aims. The section will locate the thesis as interdisciplinary, sitting between and engaging with

the aforementioned fields whilst keeping movement and British Caribbean Diasporic identity

19

at its centre. Towards the end, this section will introduce the key concepts that this thesis

develops as practices of rooting and spaces of performative becoming.

This thesis has three main objectives. Firstly, and most importantly, it aims to expand the

current discourses on British Caribbean Diasporic artists within dance studies. In doing this

the thesis offers a nuanced reading of choreographed movement beyond metaphor to its

intrinsic function within British Caribbean Diasporic identities. Secondly, this research aims

to build on discourses within Caribbean Studies that use movement as a tool to explore

Caribbean identities through the consideration of British Caribbean Diasporic identities as

distinctive yet expanded conceptions of Caribbean identities. Finally, this thesis aims to

expand the ways in which we contemplate and explore cultural identity by offering an

analysis of identity that places movement and embodied knowledge at its centre through a

distinctly postcolonial and Caribcentric consideration.

The first objective of this thesis is to expand current discourses within dance studies on

British Caribbean Diasporic dance artists and their movement. Currently, there is very little

scholarship which considers British Caribbean Diasporic dance. This is especially true of any

research that considers the relationship between choreography and identity within the work of

British Caribbean Diasporic choreographers. The most substantial work in this area is by a

small cohort of scholars who detail the historical development of British Caribbean Diasporic

dance in relation to the development of the Black Dance/ African People’s Dance sector in

Britain. Segments in Edward Thorpe’s (1990) Black Dance and Hilary Carty’s chapter Black

Dance in England the Pathway Here in Voicing Black Dance the British Experience 1930s-

1990s give a general historical overview of the sector. Work by Bob Ramdhanie (2005),

‘Funmi Adewole (2017) and Christy Adair and Ramsay Burt (2017) provide a comprehensive

historical study of Black Dance in Britain and its development. In addition to this, Thea

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Barnes (2017) in her chapter Presenting Berto Pasuka and Christy Adair (2007) in her book

Dancing the Black Question: The Phoenix Dance Company Phenomenon take a closer look

into the histories of a specific British Caribbean Diasporic dance company and dance artist.

These sources are an essential foundation for this research, providing an understanding of the

contexts and the systems that have been available to British Caribbean Diasporic artists

throughout history and highlighting the inadequacy of funding and the systems that British

Caribbean Diasporic artists have created within. This research uses this work alongside the

broader historical and socio-economic contexts of the case study artists as a part of its

framework of analysis (as mentioned above). The research adds to this historical body of

work on British Caribbean Diasporic dance by detailing the narratives of case study artists

that have not yet been considered within this literature, namely, Jamila Johnson-Small,

Akeim Toussaint Buck and Greta Mendez.

In addition to the historical literature, H Patten (2017) and Sheril Dodds (2011) introduce

ways of thinking about identity and dance within British Caribbean Diasporic social contexts.

Dodds’ chapter is based on the fieldwork she conducted at a British Caribbean dance club for

the over 30s called Sunday Serenade. Dodds’ argues that the joy of dancing within this

particular group produces localised and at times, contradictory expressions of value, identity,

and community (Dodds, 2011, p.17). Dodds asserts that through their dancing these

participants can ‘trouble fixed categories of race, nation and cultural absolutism’ (Dodds,

2011, p.192). Dodds argues that the participants of the group ‘refuse’ (2011, p.197) to be

contained by an essentialist Caribbean identity, that longs for a ‘mythical homeland’ (2011,

p.197). When examining the history of Dancehall in Jamaica, H Patten (2017) presents

Dancehall’s transformation within the British context. Patten speaks from his lived

experience as an individual of British Caribbean Diasporic heritage and argues that

21

participating within Dancehall culture is an act of survival and upliftment for the younger

people of Caribbean and Caribbean Diasporic heritage, to which Dancehall is targeted

(Patten, 2017a, p.99). Patten uses the term smadditisation coined by Charles Mills (2013) to

illustrate how the younger generation in a British context use Dancehall’s subversive nature

to gain a transformative sense of identity and pride. Participating in the movement enables

the dancers to ‘feel de riddim and vibe’ (Patten, 2017a, p.120), allowing them to connect

bodily and historically with African and Caribbean dance practices. This thesis is interested

in exploring how the types of connections and disruptions that Patten and Dodd’s identify

manifest within the choices of choreographed movement created by British Caribbean

Diasporic artists. It, therefore, aims to expand considerations of dance and identity within this

area of dance studies to consider “formal” movement.

There have been two significant publications that consider the choreography within British

Caribbean Diasporic dance companies in detail. Thea Barnes’ (2018) writing on Kokuma

Dance Theatre’s Trails of Ado, analyses how the process and performance of the piece

enabled the members to gain access to a part of their identity that had been ‘diffused and

disbursed’ (Barnes, 2018, p.98) within the British context. Barnes examines how the dancers

and musicians involved in the process and performance of the piece achieved ‘self-

realisation’ (84) through the engagement of ‘ethnic specific gestures’ (Barnes, 2018, p.96).

Through the critical narration of history, interviews, and analysis of the piece Barnes

demonstrates how dance empowers both the audience members and those performing to

reach their true selves and engage in cultural self-defence. Barnes asserts that the

performance of Trails of Ado produced a counter-cultural space in which members could

reach ‘authenticity’ (Barnes, 2018, p.84) within themselves. Similarly, ‘Funmi Adewole

(2016) explores how the choreography of IRIE! Dance Theatre as a symbolic practice draws

22

on Caribbean dance aesthetics to ‘create meaning’ within the British multicultural context.

Adewole poignantly illustrates that during the 1980s, African Diasporic communities were

engaging and developing a tradition of theatrical dance which offered a way of building

community against a backdrop of riots and alienation (Adewole, 2016, p.68). In addition to

this, Adewole recognises the socio-political and economic factors that affected IRIE! Dance

Theatre during the eighties. Adewole’s analysis of IRIE! Dance Theatre’s choreography is

conducted within a framework of hybridity conceptualised through Stuart Hall’s (1980)

theory of articulation and Thomas DeFrantz’s (2004) concept of corporeal orature. This

framework allows Adewole to consider the aesthetical juxtapositions of Reggae, social and

traditional Caribbean dance forms, Western Ballet and Modern Dance forms incorporated in

IRIE! Dance Theatre’s aesthetic. Adewole notes how this hybridity can draw us into ‘not-yet

documented exploration[s] of modernity […]’ (Adewole, 2016, p.77). This thesis builds on

the research conducted by Barnes and Adewole by adopting an approach that considers both

the contextual framing that is present within Adewole’s chapter and the centring of

movement and its relationship to identity that we see in Barnes’ writing. This thesis uses

these focuses as part of its wider framework of analysis (as discussed) and expands the work

of Barnes and Adewole by focussing on independent dance artists to gain a more explicit

analysis of British Caribbean Diasporic identity and its function within choreographed

movement.

The second objective of this research aims to expand the current literature on Caribbean

dance and identity to include British Caribbean Diasporic identities within Caribbean Studies.

As demonstrated above, there is little scholarship that focuses on British Caribbean Diasporic

identities and dance. Most of the work within this field has been interested in identities that

have been formed on the Caribbean islands, focussing on the complex ancestral heritages of

23

the Caribbean people (Nettleford, 1985; Thorpe, 1990; Taylor, 2001; Stines, 2014). Work

within Caribbean studies that does refer to British Caribbean Diasporic identities discusses

them in the frame of wider diasporic identities (Daniel, 2011). This research contributes an

extensive exploration of British Caribbean Diasporic identities and the movement that is

created out of these identities to this area of study. The pursuit of understanding identity

through dance and the body has an extensive history within Dance Studies. Scholars such as

Susan Foster, 1995a, Ann Cooper Albright, 1997, Ananya Chatterjea, 2004, Prarthana

Purkayastha, 2014, Melissa Blanco Borelli, 2016 and Clare Croft, 2017 have explored the

ways that choreography, the body and movement offer new understandings and ways of

understanding, society, culture, nation, gender and identity. Prarthana Purkayastha (2019)

rightly observes that Dance scholars have not been ‘passive’ in receiving ideas from

discourses within other disciplines, but have asked ‘important questions on the role, function

and politics of the body within culture’ (Purkayastha, 2019, p.179). The final aim of this

thesis is to add to the role dance studies has played in expanding discourses around identity

and the body through its offering of a postcolonial Caribcentric analysis of movement and

identity.

At this point, it is important to recognise how the aims and discourses presented within this

thesis brush up against and engage with conversations occurring within Black Studies (from a

predominately African American context). This rich area of scholarship engages with a

plethora of issues around Black life including (but not limited to): race (Miller, 1990;

Marable, 2000), Blackness (Moten, 2009; Mbembe, 2017; Moten, 2017) Afro-Pessimism

(Sexton, 2016; Gordon et al., 2018), Diaspora (Saunders, 2008; Campt, 2012), art and culture

(Brooks, 2006; Spillers, 2006), and Black feminism/womanism (Campt and Thomas, 2008;

Gumbs, 2016). The next few paragraphs of this chapter will discuss how some of the theories

24

that this research is producing and utilises sit adjacent to this generally American-centric part

of Black studies – being “of” the field (by the very nature of the research) but not “in” the

field.

This thesis is interested in the transnational and multiplicitous British Caribbean Diasporic

cultural identities that form whilst negotiating the hostile British environment. The research

examines how the movement within British Caribbean Diasporic choreographers’ work

functions as a tool in which these artists engage in a performative becoming through practices

of rooting (chapter 4). This thesis has chosen to frame its approach to British Caribbean

Diasporic identities through a Caribcentric standpoint rather than one that focuses on the

location of these identities in relation to race, Blackness, or the wider role of Black life. This

approach favours the subjective perspectives of identities that the case study artists have

expressed through conversation and their choreography. The analysis of the thesis places

these perspectives within historical and social trajectories and considers them within an

interdisciplinary theoretical framework (see methods). As mentioned earlier, this is the

rationale behind the research’s choice to consider the work and lives of independent artists.

Through this approach the research carves out a space for Caribcentric articulations of

identities that exist distinctly from (but are informed by) Afrocentric and Eurocentric

identities. Having stated this, the research, of course, recognises that British Caribbean

Diasporic identities belong to global notions of Black identities and Blackness.

Scholars within Black Studies have been exploring what Blackness is and its relationship to

Black people/life and their ontological position (Spillers, 1987; Best and Hartman, 2005;

Moten, 2009; Mbembe, 2017). For Afro-Pessimists Blackness belongs to and is the property

of political ontology (Warren, 2017, p.222). Blackness, therefore, is not a product of Africa

but encounters Africa and its diaspora at a particular moment in history at which point they

25

become Black (Wagner, 2010, pp.1–2). Afropessimists place Blackness as an adjunct to

slavery (Wagner, 2010). In this position Blackness cannot ‘lay claim to the capacities that

constitute human subjectivity in the world because Blackness is a commodity in corporeal

form…’ (Warren, 2017, p.223). Fred Moten, however, asserts that Blackness and ontology

are ‘unavailable’ for one another (Moten, 2013, p.749) and instead positions Blackness as

‘paraontological’ existing before ontology (Chandler 2007 in Moten, 2013) and being

violently appropriated during slavery rather than being adjunct to it (Warren, 2017, p.224). In

this sense, Moten separates Blackness from Black life (Moten, 2009). This paraontological

distinction between Blackness and Black life allows for the question of being to be detached

from Blackness (Moten, 2013, pp.749–750). In Moten’s conceptualisation, Blackness is

transcendent and mystical as it exists outside of our world, what Warren considers ‘pure

spirit’ (2017), it is the name given to social field/life of an ‘illicit alternative capacity to

desire’ (Moten, 2013, p.778). Whilst this research also resists political ontology that fixes

Blackness and Black people within binaries, it does not enter the discourse of British

Caribbean Diasporic identities from the point of Blackness. The noun Black implies a fiction

of unity amongst those who are racialised as Black (Mbembe, 2017, p.25). This thesis is

interested in the particularities of Blackness culturally. Using Hall’s (1990) conceptualisation

of identities this research focuses on the time, place, history, and culture of British Caribbean

Diasporic identities. This approach is more akin to the second narrative of Black reason that

Mbembe articulates as a declaration of identity through which a person who is racialised as

Black might affirm themselves (Mbembe, 2017, p.28). In doing this the research seeks to

honour the distinctiveness of an individual, yet still acknowledge their wider and global

positioning without intending to make generalisations. The thesis does this through its

offering of a close reading of each case study artist in chapters five to eight and a wider

26

analysis using the concepts of this thesis in chapter nine. In this way, the research’s

employment of Caribcentric worldviews acknowledges the multiplicity within those views. A

clear example of this is in the choice to consider cultural aesthetics (or cultural expressive

production) rather than Black aesthetics which comes out of the Black aesthetic tradition

most associated with the black power movement and fourth wave Black aestheticians from

the 60s and 70s (Taylor, 2016, p.16). It is important for this research to consider the cultural

aesthetics formed by British Caribbean Diasporic communities (whilst also recognising the

impact of its transnational positioning) and how artists relate to these aesthetics within their

work. The thesis engages a normative approach to aesthetics (Taylor, 2016, p.23) in the

fashion of Henry Louis Gates (1988) or Julian Henriques (2011). Here, aesthetics do not

function as correlating symbols that signify something specific about movement and identity

within the work of British Caribbean Diasporic artists. Instead aesthetics function as part of

an assembling (Hall, 2005, p.1) of a provisional framework through which I trace the case

study artists work and make suggestions of the ‘interconnections’ (Hall, 2005, p.1) between

artists and what might be read through them. This assembly, as Stuart Hall conceptualises,

does not stand unified (Hall, 2005) and resists the ‘quest for definitive interpretations’

(Taylor, 2016, p.3) or a cataloguing of gestures. Aesthetics within this thesis signify

something nuanced belonging to a particular expression of a British Caribbean Diasporic

identity, which through comparative analysis allows for a particular understanding of how

movement and identities are functioning within the work considered (see chapter nine).

Avoiding capture is the conceptual foundation upon which the two key concepts of this thesis

are developed. This concept was born out of a conversation I had with artists Jamila Johnson-

Small and Alexandrina Hemsley in 2015. In response to a question I asked about defining

work and identity, Johnson-Small said that she would not intentionally define parameters in

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order to avoid capture (Johnson-Small, 2015). Since this point, I have been thinking and

writing about the notion of avoiding capture (Uzor, 2016; Uzor, 2017; Uzor, 2018d; Uzor,

2018a; tiamoniqueuzor, 2018; Uzor, 2019).

Avoiding:

To move away actively and intentionally or distance oneself from systems

and/or institutions.

or

To navigate systems and institutions in a manner that subverts the values

that a system /institution perpetuates.

Capture:

To be rendered invisible by a system/ institution. To have your humanity

boxed, reduced, or limited by a system/ institution. To be seen and treated

by that system/ institution as one dimensional. To be refused the

complexity of a human being.

The artist who avoids capture carves out their own spaces, uses their own languages, and

dances on their own terms with or without support from institutions. Refusing to be captured,

this artist will not be made a token or compromised, instead, they assert themselves through

developing practices of rooting and producing creative expressions which are unashamedly

reflective of their experiences and interests.

These ideas brush up against the notion of fugitivity that we find within Black Studies. Whilst

there are many ways of thinking about fugitivity (See: Sciullo, 2019), the Deleuzian position

that frames fugitivity as a line of flight (Deleuze and Guattari, 1987, p.9) is most helpful

when thinking about Avoiding Capture. The line of flight does not necessarily produce

movement, it is an ‘active resistance that may manifest physically spiritually or intellectually’

(emphasis added Sciullo, 2019). It is this kind of resistance that Campt characterises as

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‘practices of refusal’ that ‘undermine the category of the dominant’ (Campt, 2014). Avoiding

Capture specifically refers to ways that British Caribbean Diasporic artists creating work

within the British environment refuse domination through strategies of avoidance.

It is important to note, comprehension of avoiding capture provides the foundation through

which to consider practices of rooting and spaces of performative becoming. Having said

this, the thesis does not comment on these systems, the wider contemporary/dance field or the

politics and policies that surround them. These aspects will only be addressed contextually

and if they are particularly pertinent to understanding the analysis of the case study artists.

Consequently, avoiding capture will not be developed through the thesis.

As mentioned, the interest of this research is in the specific ways that movement is being

used by British Caribbean Diasporic artists as a tool through which they can explore and

affirm their identities. I recognise that another approach to the same research topic may have

prioritised examining the system through the concepts that this research offers. My hope is

that in first posturing this research towards the artist and their work a preliminary opening

will be produced, through which other researchers can explore and scrutinise the system

through an approach that decentres it from our own narratives.

Avoiding Capture provides contextual conceptual knowledge for this research. The analysis

of this research explores how practices of rooting that are choreographic form spaces of

performative becoming in which the case study artists affirm and explore their identities

publicly. These practices of rooting are characterised in chapter four as created through the

engagement of cultural aesthetics. These rootings form within submerged realms (Walcott,

1990; E. K. Brathwaite, 1995; Glissant, 1997; Mayer, 2000) and the body is that realm for

practices of rooting that are choreographic.

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Rooting: verb. The continuous process of burrowing deep and extending

out under systems of oppression, foreign lands, and hostile environments

through engaging cultural expressive practices to create temporal sites of

stability, security, unity, affirmation, and transformation.

It is imperative to this research’s understanding of rooting that we move away from roots,

away from images of unseen structures beneath the ground that anchor a tree. This trope has

been labelled redundant by postcolonial and cultural studies theorists who rightly assert that

this particular conception of roots is one that seeks a point of origin, a map that will point us

to the source (Hebdige, 1987, p.10; Spivak and Harasym, 1990, p.93; Malkki, 1992, p.38;

Hall, 1995, p.5). For creolised identities such as the British Caribbean Diasporic one, it is

not possible to pinpoint an original source, an untarnished Africa (if it ever was) in which

we can find the very essence of our beings does not exist. The consequences of the Atlantic

Slave Trade and colonisation means that there is no return. Instead, I propose the notion of

rooting conceptualised through the rhizome, a stem that sends out both roots and shoots

from its nodes (Deleuze and Guattari, 1987; Glissant, 1997). The rhizome recognises that

rooting of creolised identities are in a state of constant flux, seeking out ways in which to

nourish and adapt to the environment. This is very different from the ‘tree or root’ which

seeks a point and ‘fixes an order’ (Deleuze and Guattari, 1987, p.5). For British Caribbean

Diasporic identities, the rhizome model embodies a connected multiplicity as it moves from

Africa to the Caribbean, to Europe and beyond. It does not point back to a source but allows

us to trace where we have been. Through mapping practices of rooting that are

choreographic, we can gain insights into collective memory (past), present realities and

future trajectories that have been subsumed into the body. It is through practices of rooting

that are choreographic that this research proposes the case study artists construct spaces of

30

performative becoming on stage. In the space of the theatre these artists not only disrupt

expectations (Puwar, 2004) but they inhabit a liminal space through which they navigate and

create their becoming (Hall, 1990). Chapter four of this thesis will expand on these concepts

before they are applied to chapters five to eight.

1.3 Thesis Overview and Chapter Plan

Each chapter of this thesis is built to deepen the readers understanding of the principle

concepts of practices of rooting and performative becoming that this research develops. This

first chapter has introduced and positioned these concepts within other fields and discourses

of scholarship. Chapters two and three provide contextual knowledge both historically and

spatially. Chapter four unpacks the principle concepts further. Chapters five to eight apply

these concepts to the case study artists and finally, chapter nine revisits these concepts,

provides an in-depth discussion, and considers how they might be applied in the future.

Chapter Two, “Locating British Caribbean Diasporic Identities”

This chapter begins with a brief discussion of postmodern and modern identities and

positions the thesis within ideas around cultural identity construction using concepts

proposed by Stuart Hall and Paul Gilroy. It then goes on to discuss what the research

considers to be British Caribbean Diasporic identities and suggests the characteristics that are

distinguishable within this identity. The chapter then explores these characteristics and

locates British Caribbean Diasporic identities through British, Caribbean, and Diasporic

Identities. In considering British identities the chapter looks at the work of Robert Cohen and

considers the political climate at the time of writing. The chapter then reflects on the history

and formation of Caribbean identities through its many intercultural influences. It is here that

the important notions of creolisation and the rhizome will be introduced (which will be

31

explored further in chapter four). Chapter two then goes on to consider discourses and

approaches to diasporic identities using the work of Stuart Hall and Steven Vertovec. The

chapter ends by outlining the historical development of Caribbean people living in Britain.

Through this historical overview, the thesis identifies theoretical characteristics of British

Caribbean Diasporic identities that will be used in chapter nine as a comparative base through

which to consider the case study artists together. The locating of British Caribbean Diasporic

identities within this chapter is not to reduce these identities, but to identify who this study is

interested in and the contexts which surround these identities.

Chapter Three, “Dance and British Caribbean Diasporic Identities” constructs a Caribcentric

historical framing of the development of dance and British Caribbean Diasporic identities in

the UK. Beginning from the time the Caribbean islands were under colonial rule, the chapter

traces dance practices from the enslaved Africans to the first Black dance company in

Britain- Les Ballet Negres, to the current landscape of dance of Africa and African diaspora

within the UK. In charting this history, the chapter introduces the case study artists of this

thesis; H Patten, Greta Mendez, Jamila Johnson-Small and Akeim Toussaint Buck, placing

them within their historical contexts. The chapter also explores the political, social, and

economic factors that produce, restrict and impact British Caribbean Diasporic dance

expression and production. The framing of this history is not to bind the case study artists to

the narrative that is given but to present an understanding of this history through a

Caribcentric lens.

Chapter Four, “Practices of Rooting and Performative Becoming” is the key conceptual

chapter of the thesis. This chapter develops the principle concepts practices of rooting and

spaces of performative becoming further. The discussion of rooting within this chapter rejects

the conceptualisation of roots as a point in which to anchor, following theorists such as Stuart

32

Hall, Liisa Makki and Gayatri Chakrovatory Spivak. Instead, it argues for rooting as process

through the image of the rhizome root as initially proposed by Deleuze and Guattari. The

chapter expands rooting to Caribbean and British Caribbean Diasporic identities through the

ideas of Edouard Glissant, Derek Walcott, Edward Kamau Brathwaite, and Paul Gilroy. The

chapter then asserts that practices of rooting that are choreographic produce spaces of

performative becoming. In developing the notion of performative becoming, the chapter

draws on the work of Homi Bhabha, Stuart Hall and Nirmal Puwar.

Chapters Five, Six, Seven and Eight “Reading Rooting in the Work of H Patten, Greta

Mendez, Jamila Johnson-Small and Akeim Toussaint Buck” conduct a detailed reading of the

dominant themes within the practices of rooting in each case study artist’s choreographic

work. These chapters give a historical overview of each case study chosen for this research,

as well as a detailed account of the chosen solo pieces which make up the performance

material for analysis. These pieces are H Patten’s Ina de Wildanis, Greta Mendez’s extracts

of I Am Only Chopping Onions, Bhopal, and My Name is not Marylin, so no one gives an

AFYZ, Jamila Johnson-Small’s i ride in soft colour and focus/ no longer anywhere and

Akeim Toussaint Buck’s Windows of Displacement. These chapters will then consider how

these pieces function as practices of rooting which establish, affirm and (re)create the

identities of each case study artist.

Chapter nine “Conclusion”, will conduct a wider reading of practices of rooting, using the

theoretical characteristics identified in chapter two as a comparative base through which to

consider the case studies’ choreography. Having done this, the chapter will consider the

spaces of performative becoming that each case study artist is creating, making comparative

commentary on these spaces. The thesis concludes with a summary of its findings and a

consideration of how the concepts proposed might be used in further research.

33

34

Chapter 2: Locating British Caribbean Diasporic Identities

This thesis is concerned with British Caribbean Diasporic identities and their formation

through movement. It will consider how these identities are affirmed and formed through

choreography in chapters five to eight through what this thesis conceptualises as practices of

rooting that are choreographic. This chapter will locate what it terms as British Caribbean

Diasporic identities through Britishness, Caribbean identities, and diasporic identities. This

will allow for a comprehensive understanding of what identities are being considered within

the research’s notion of practices of rooting that are choreographic. In locating these

identities, the chapter does not seek to pin them down to a definition but offer some of the

ever-expanding and transforming characteristics that can be attributed to British Caribbean

Diasporic identities (see section 2.1.2). The chapter will also consider the historical contexts

through which these identities have been evolving. Outlining the complex genealogy of

British Caribbean Diasporic identities will allow for an in-depth understanding of why

rooting is a practice that journeys across many routes (more in chapter 4) and ultimately

allow for an insight into the analysis and interpretation that this research offers in chapter

nine. This chapter will also introduce the theoretical characteristics of British Caribbean

Diasporic identities determined in this thesis as resistance, Caribcentric and double

consciousness. These are the dominant characteristics of British Caribbean Diasporic

identities that this research has identified as being present across the case study artists. These

characteristics will be further developed in chapter nine.

Throughout, this chapter will draw on examples of different Caribcentric cultural aesthetics

that are present within the UK. These examples are invoked to aid in understanding and

locating British Caribbean Diasporic identities through the cultures they produce. This is not

an effort to highlight the defining features of British Caribbean Diasporic cultures, as any

35

attempt to do this in one chapter would result in reductive violence to the culture. The focus

of this thesis is dance, and Chapter 3 will specifically explore dance and British Caribbean

Diasporic identities through a Caribcentric framing. There are, however, many scholars that

consider different aspects of British Caribbean Diasporic culture in detail through their

scholarship (including but not limited to: Hebdige, 1987; Oliver, 1990; Sebba, 1993; Mercer,

1994; Owusu, 2000; Lazarides et al., 2001; Cook and Harrison, 2003; Tulloch, 2004; Tate,

2009; Toynbee, 2013; Tulloch, 2016; Stratton, 2016; Stratton and Zuberi, 2016; Le Gendre,

2018)

2.1 Locating British Caribbean Diasporic Identities

This section will offer an open-ended understanding of British Caribbean Diasporic identities

through several characteristics. The section will locate these characteristics through British

identities, Caribbean identities, and diasporic identities.

2.1.1 Postmodern and Modern identities

First, we will briefly look at the modern/postmodern paradigm of identity and outline a

conception of identity that disrupts and reveals the tension within this paradigm. The aim of

this discussion is not to resolve this tension, but to make clear how identities will be

understood within this thesis.

Modernist conceptions of identities position them as relatively stable, fixed, static, and

unitary. These identities come from a ‘circumscribed set of roles and norms’ and identities

are formed through a combination of these roles and possibilities (Kellner, 1995, p.231). At

the beginning of the millennium Paul Gilroy in his book Against Race: Imagining Political

Culture Beyond the Colour Line (2000), identifies that identities are always bound and

specific and that they demarcate the ‘divisions’ and ‘subsets’ in our social life. They aid us in

36

outlining the boundaries that we have created to help us make sense of this world (Gilroy,

2000, p.97). Identity in this sense (the modern) is always created against difference,

differentiating it from the Other (Grossberg, 1996, p.93), forming out of an establishment of

resistance against the integrity of that Other (Gilroy, 2000, p.110) it, therefore, becomes a

social construct. Stuart Hall, in particular, recognises this creation of identity through

difference and not outside of it as ‘radically disturbing’ (Hall, 1996, p.4). This

conceptualisation of identity often leads to a nationalist or ethnically absolutist discourse

around identity where ‘cultural insiderism’ (Gilroy, 1996, p.3) is paramount, and a quest for

uncontaminated purity is pursued. Gilroy’s notion of the Black Atlantic uses the African

Diaspora to demonstrate how diasporic identities interrupt all ideas around modern

conceptions of identities stating ‘[they] disrupt the fundamental power of territory to

determine identity by breaking the simple sequence of explanatory links between place,

location, and consciousness’ (Gilroy, 2000 p.123). This is evident in British Caribbean

Diasporic identities, which are simultaneously British and Caribbean - some would argue that

such identities are, in fact, an oxymoron. The transition to the postmodern conception of

identities (which is not as clean-cut as some scholarship has presented, see Ott, 2003) sees

identities as more fragile, extended, unstable, superficial and accelerated (Kidd and Teagle,

2012, pp.102–103). Postmodernists ‘problematise’ the very concept of identity, claiming it to

be an illusion and a myth (Kellner, 1995, p.233). Decentring themselves, the person

performing a postmodern identity exists within ambiguity where things must be ‘put together’

(Bernstein, 2003, p.144) and one must ‘discover the prevailing principles for oneself’

(Poecke, 1996, p.193). The tension between these modern and postmodern conceptions of

identity tend to be framed within essentialist and anti-essentialist arguments (Powell, 1997,

p.1484). Whilst the postmodern standpoint provides helpful flexibility that is much more

37

reflective of the fluid nature of identity, the paradigm becomes binary, falling victim to the

‘grand and seductive Either/Or’ (Bernstein, 1983, p.18). It is therefore important to note that

essentialism and multiplicity are not mutually exclusive (Powell, 1997, p.1485) and that there

are numerous ways that postmodern identities can be performed, some of which blur the

boundary between the modern/postmodern paradigm (see Ott, 2003).

Like Gilroy, Stuart Hall uses diasporic identities to reposition our notions of cultural identity

in the postmodern sense. He proposes two ways of thinking about identity and specifically

uses Caribbean identities to do this. The first model defines identities that are stable and

unchanging, and that live on continuously through individuals born into it. There is a sense of

collective memory and oneness (Hall, 1990, p.223). Lawrence Grossberg (1996) suggests that

Hall’s first model offers identities that are complete, distinct and separate from one another.

Within this first model of identities proposed by Hall, we see similarities to the

conceptualisation of modern identities. In contrast, Hall’s second model of identities

recognises that ‘as well as the many points of similarity, there are also critical points of deep

and significant difference which constitute what we really are; or rather – since history has

intervened – what we have become’ (Hall, 1990, p.225). Identity according to Hall’s second

model is formed out of multiplicity and difference, consequently, Hall sees identity as a,

[…] matter of “becoming” as well as “being”. It belongs to the future as

much as the past. It is not something which already exists, transcending

place, time and histories. But, like everything which is historical, they

undergo constant transformation. Far from being eternally fixed in some

essentialised past, they are subject to the continuous ‘play’ of history,

culture and power.

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(Hall, 1990, p.225)

Hall’s second model of identity allows there to be recognition of the historical

transformations of movement that may occur as they are disrupted and influenced while they

move across time and space. This echoes Homi Bhabha’s recognition of diasporic identities

as existing at the ‘beyond’ in the newness at the in-between of the ‘past-present’ (Bhabha,

1994, p.7). British Caribbean Diasporic identities are those that are at the border; these

identities cannot be fixed or essentialised as there is no place of origin for them to return to

(Hall, 1990). Hall’s second model of identity does not neatly adhere to modern/postmodern

conceptions of identity and is the position that this research adopts when considering those

with British Caribbean Diasporic identities.

The problem with the modern/postmodern paradigm of identity, as recognised by Kobena

Mercer (1994), is that there is an encouragement of ‘actively forgetting’ the recent past in

favour for a reimagining of a future which is based on a nostalgic outlook on an age gone by

(Mercer, 1994, p.269). Here, Mercer is referring to the political context of postmodern

identities. Over the past decade, there has been a rise in national populist ideals amongst

nations across Western Europe and America. In 2016 we heard political slogans such as

‘getting our country back’ in the United Kingdom and ‘making America great again’ in the

USA. The rise in these populist political movements reflects the misremembering that Mercer

is speaking of. Mercer notes that this type of forgetting is dangerous within the construction

of identity as it encourages an erasure of recent narratives in favour of a restoration of a

redefined history (Mercer, 1994, p.267; Kidd and Teagle, 2012, p.105). Hall (1995) also

identifies that cultural identities are not as unfixed as the postmodern might have us believe.

An individual is not able to orchestrate their own identity entirely autonomously or out of

‘thin air’ (Hall, 1995, p.14). Hall establishes that cultural identities are produced out of

39

historical experiences, cultural traditions, lost languages, and marginalisation. Identity is

created out of these resources; it is not the rediscovery of them, but how these resources

allow an individual to produce and create (Hall, 1995, p.14). Homi Bhabha (2004) defines

this notion as the ‘past-present’ (Bhabha, 1994, p.7). The past-present is a ‘necessary’ part of

living that does not bask in nostalgia but renews the past, ‘reconfiguring it as a contingent

“in-between” space that innovates and interrupts the performance of the present’ (Bhabha,

1994, p.7).

This section will demonstrate how British Caribbean Diasporic identities are exemplary of

Gilroy, Hall and Bhabha’s notions of identity and identity construction, locating them in

relation to Britishness, Caribbean identities, and diasporic identities.

2.1.2 British Caribbean Diasporic Identities

In attempting to define British Caribbean Diasporic identities, this research recognises the

constraining impact of definition that often leads to unhelpful essentialisation. It is important

that the analysis of this research does not homogenise the case study artists through its

framing but considers each case study as an individual. Therefore, this research frames

British Caribbean Diasporic identities as developing identities that cannot be definitively

defined. Having said this, British Caribbean Diasporic identities are not so ambiguous that

they cannot be recognised. It is possible to identify some key points about the nature and

constitution of British Caribbean Diasporic identities. Both the case study artists and those

within the British Caribbean Diasporic community, of course, are not bound to the

characteristics that I offer here.

The British Caribbean Diasporic identity is a term coined by this thesis to shed further light

on the type of ethno-local (Premdas, 2011, p.828) British Caribbean Diasporic identities that

40

are present within Britain today. The term places both British and Caribbean at the forefront

alluding to the indelible history and interaction between the regions. The diasporic term is

there to primarily highlight the fact that the Caribbean is, as Stuart Hall reminds us, the ‘first,

the original and the purest diaspora’ (Hall, 1995, p.6), and that the British Caribbean

Diaspora is a secondary diaspora of the Caribbean, which is a diaspora of Africa. Making

these connections is significant, as it is important to locate British Caribbean Diasporic

identities as twice removed from what might be described as the motherland (Africa), but

also that those connections are still there through presence Africaine (Hall, 2015) but are

routed through the Caribbean.

This research classifies British Caribbean Diasporic people as individuals who were born in

the Caribbean and might have spent some time there in their youth before emigrating to the

UK, individuals whose great/grand/parents once lived in the Caribbean or who were born in

the Caribbean before coming to the UK, and finally, those individuals who may have

emigrated from the Caribbean to the UK as young adults and have spent a significant amount

of their lives in the UK and are established (through contributing to the economy, building a

life, having a family, giving service to the country etc.).

This research considers British Caribbean Diasporic identities as hyphenated identities (Hall,

2000). They are distinct identities that belong to the wider Black British community in

Britain. British Caribbean Diasporic identities are multiplicitous and are comprised of many

identities and cultures, stemming from Europe, Africa, Indigenous, Asian and Middle Eastern

ethnicities (depending on the individual). British Caribbean Diasporic identities exist on an

unceasing continuum of creolisation (Brathwaite, 1984) and navigate their multiplicity across

Britishness, Caribbean cultures, presence Africaine, Européenne, and Américaine (Hall,

2015) and cultures of the wider Black Atlantic within the British environment. Through

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creolisation British Caribbean Diasporic identities produce their own music, food, dance,

language, and way of being. The cultural aesthetics produced through these identities exist to

serve the community on an ethno-local level (Premdas 2011) but are also transcultural (trans-

Caribbean Premdas 2011), connecting rhizomatically across the Black Atlantic (Gilroy 1993)

to Africa, the Caribbean, African Diasporas and other Caribbean Diasporas. The multiplicity

of British Caribbean Diasporic identities, their history and development results in them not

completely aligning to a Eurocentric world view, but rather adopting a Caribcentric

perspective which enables the prioritising of individual philosophies and experiences.

These connections do not produce ‘diluted’ or ‘compromised’ identities as Ralph Premdas

(2011, p.831) suggests, as these identities do not seek to be the type of Caribbean identities

that are formed on the islands. Forming within a British environment, British Caribbean

Diasporic identities are a continuity of Caribbean identities, heritages, and lineages that exist

in a state of becoming (Hall, 1990) as they adapt to their locality.

British Caribbean Diasporic identities as diasporic identities can be most accurately

illustrated through Steven Vertovec’s (1999) approach to diaspora when considered together

through Gilroy’s Black Atlantic and the rhizome (more on this in chapter four). In Vertovec’s

approach, British Caribbean Diasporic identities are seen as 1) a culture that is transnational

and identifies as an ethnic group (Vertovec, 1999, p.5), 2) as possessing a consciousness

(Vertovec, 1999, p.2), (this research identifies this consciousness as double consciousness in

which those with British Caribbean Diasporic identities experience a tension between self and

their perception of themselves by the other (Du Bois 1903; James 1984)), that allows them to

experience a level of belonging in both ‘host land’ and ‘homeland’, 3) finally, as producing

idiosyncratic cultural expressive products (Vertovec, 1999, p.18-19) (aesthetics) as

mentioned within the process of unceasing creolisation.

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Those with British Caribbean Diasporic identities have a history of defiance and endurance as

they have experienced racism, both institutionally and socially. Through the Colour Bar,

over-policing, disproportionate poverty, and lack of opportunities. British Caribbean

Diasporic people have continued to thrive and have a significant presence in politics, media,

sport, entertainment, and society at large.

2.1.3 Britishness

This section will discuss the notion of Britishness and will present British identities within

their historical context. It will use Robin Cohen’s (1994) conceptualisation of the ‘frontiers’

of British identities to position British identities as a hyphenated identity (Hall, 2000) to

which other identities are attached. It is through the consideration of British identities as

hyphenated identities that we can comprehend British Caribbean Diasporic identities (without

the physical hyphens). This section will end by briefly considering the instability of

Britishness, referring to the recent political climate of Brexit and the Windrush Scandal.

When considering what British identities are, images of pub and television culture, the

monarchy, roast dinners, and a multicultural society may come to mind. However, more

thoughtful contemplation of what a British identity comprises of, and what it means to be

British reveals a complexity that cannot produce a homogenous answer.

British identities are plural (Ashcroft and Bevir, 2016, p.355) defined by the difference of

what they are not, more than they are. Parekh Bhikhu (2009) confirms that when people

speak of Britishness and the physical and tangible behaviours, attitudes and morals that apply

to Britishness, they are usually referring to Englishness. The presumption here is that

“Britishness” as an identity is often seen as a set of attributes that one who is British should

possess, which are, for the most part, those that are associated with Englishness. Bhiku

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explains it as, ‘broadly the same way that all yellow or red objects share yellowness or

redness in common’ (Bhikhu, 2009, pg.33).

The complexity of pinpointing Britishness lies in its formation. Great Britain is often

considered as a political project that sought to bring together the nations of England

(including Wales), Scotland and Ireland with the Union acts of 1707 and 1800 (Kelly, 1987;

Cohen, 1994, p.9). The notion of Britishness was particularly solidified after the French

Revolution and the second world war when the union was threatened (Daly-Groves, 2016,

p.1), and therefore so was “Britishness”. These events led to the four nations and those at the

frontiers becoming more unified. Great Britain, as a political project has meant that adopting

a British identity has been secondary to other identities that are found in other community or

cultures. The British identity, therefore, has acted as a hyphenated complimentary identity

that exists alongside other identities, rather than conflicting (Hall, 2000; Gamble and Wright,

2009, p.2).

Bhikhu recognises Britain as a political project which is informed by what type of Britishness

an individual may wish to associate with. This decision is, of course, a reflection of that

individual’s personal history which cannot be disregarded. The emphasis here is on the fluid

postmodern nature of British identities which fluctuates amongst ‘trends’ and ‘tendencies’

depending on the challenges the country may be facing, adapting accordingly (Bhikhu, 2009,

p.32). This is significant as it challenges the notion of a particular essence that the British

possess that makes them British; Bhiku argues that such an essence does not exist.

Interestingly, Bhiku notes that those who claim Britishness signify a relationship with Britain

that goes further than residing on its land and therefore gaining British citizenship does not

equate to acquiring a British identity (Bhikhu, 2009, p.33).

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Robert Cohen recognises the British identity as one that has been marked by a history of

fragmentation (Cohen, 1994, p.53), where the Irish, Scottish, English and Welsh have had

their lives ‘intersect’ and ‘overlap’ with those from the black, brown and white

commonwealth, English-Speakers, Americans, Europeans and what Cohen refers as those

belonging to the ‘chilling and extra-terrestrial category [of] “the alien”’ (Cohen, 1994, p.34).

These interactions have resulted in complexity in how identity is constructed, rejected, and

thought about within the British context. For Cohen the ‘shapes and edges’ of the history of

British identity change often and are vague and malleable, he defines this as the ‘fuzzy

frontier’ of the British identity (Cohen, 1994, p.35). Cohen identifies six frontiers of the

British identity: The Celtic fringe, the heritage of the Dominions, the Empire and the non-

white commonwealth, the continuing Atlantic and anglophone connection and the

relationship to an emergent European identity and finally, the relationship to ‘the alien’

(Cohen, 1994, p.7). The history of British identities interacting with its different frontiers, as

identified by Cohen, has allowed British identities to be regarded as hyphenated identities.

Hyphenated identities are those in which a more prominent or valued identity may be

attached forming a multiplicity of British identities that can exist in widely varying forms.

Since its inception, Great Britain has been a multicultural country; it is the approach of

multiculturalism that has permitted individuals to be Scottish and British, Welsh and British,

and so forth. This framework has then been adopted by migrant communities who become

African, Indian, Caribbean and British. For Stuart Hall (2000) hyphenated identities ‘persist’

because the ‘routes by which minorities have travelled’ to a British identity has meant ‘they

are unlikely to feel British in the same way’ as those with a ‘native’ identity (Hall, 2000).

The very nature of a hyphenated identity allows for various tensions to exist within a

diasporic identity, as identities with juxtaposing values or concerns exist within one body. I

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was often told by both my parents that I was not British or more precisely not English,

despite both of my parents being born in England, before going back home to their respective

Caribbean islands (Jamaica and Barbados). This was important for my mother who

encouraged me to seek and place my identity in my Caribbean and diasporic heritage, rather

than in Britishness. Bhiku (2009) recognises that there is a complexity with personal

identification with any nation (Bhikhu, 2009, p.33). This is true for the British Caribbean

Diasporic individual; the colonial and oppressive history between Britain and its colonial

territories produce these complexities. These complexities are often embodied in diasporic

identities through a multitude of tensions and/or juxtapositions.

In 2004, the Chancellor of the Exchequer Gordon Brown (who is Scottish) recognising the

diversity of British identities, sought to anchor the nation in a set of British values in which

all types of British identities could subsume, creating a sense of national identity. These

values included: ‘liberty for all, responsibility by all and fairness by all’ (2004). Brown also

set out some key qualities which were to be at the heart of British identities, ‘creativity,

enterprise, innovation and internationalism’ (Brown, 2004). Brown asked the nation:

[…] whether we retreat into more exclusive identities rooted in the 19th

century conceptions of blood, race and territory, or whether we are still

able to celebrate a British identity which is bigger than the sum of its parts

and a Union that is strong because of the values we share and because of

the way these values are expressed through our history and institutions

(Brown, 2004)

The ideology behind these qualities and shared values was to anchor multiple British

identities and create unity, a shared purpose and a clear vision of national identity (Brown,

46

2004). This vision came at a time when debates around Islamophobia, nationalism,

devolution, multiculturalism, immigration, asylum, and belonging to the Europe union were

prevalent in the national conversation. In 2008, as Prime Minister, Brown was expected to

further emphasise national identity by highlighting and expanding these values, however, a

formal statement of these values was never delivered, and British values quickly slipped

down the government’s list of priorities (Helm, 2008).

In June 2016, the UK voted to leave the European Union (Brexit) by a margin of 3.78%.

Whilst the focus of the vote was on the United Kingdom’s membership to the European

Union, it became evident during the Leave campaign that issues around immigration were a

huge factor for many of those who did not want to stay within the European Union. During

the 2016 campaign, anti-immigration posters and rhetoric such as UKIP’s infamous

“breaking point” poster - which pictured queues of brown migrant faces waiting to enter

Slovenia in 2015 (a fact not stated on the poster) led to a surge in xenophobia, with racial

attacks and hate crimes committed against people belonging to all “minority” (in the British

context5) groups, including those who originate from outside of Europe (Weaver, 2018).

Brexit highlights the instability between British identities and its frontiers. The British

Caribbean Diasporic identity as a “minority” identity is caught up in this fraught relationship.

However, the more recent occurrence of the Windrush Scandal in 2018 unveiled the

insecurity of British Caribbean Diasporic identities, resulting in further questioning of the

role Britishness plays for those with British Caribbean Diasporic identities.

5 It is important to note that whilst many groups in the West are racialised as belonging to a “minority”, they belong to the global majority.

47

The Windrush Scandal investigated by the Guardian Newspaper revealed the shocking

treatment by the government of the British Caribbean Diasporic community. The government

began to classify those who had been born in the British overseas territory of the Caribbean

or on British soil as illegal immigrants after decades of living and working in the UK, despite

being legal British citizens. The effect of wrongful classification meant generations of

families living in limbo as they were refused access to passports, healthcare, welfare, and

other public funding such as student loans. Many lost their homes in legal battles, lost jobs as

they were no longer able to work, a significant number were even deported back to the

Caribbean, a place which they had left decades before and in which they had minimal family

ties and access to infrastructure. The revelation of this treatment caused an uproar amongst all

factions of society who recognised the integration of the British Caribbean Diasporic

community within the British landscape (The Guardian view on the Windrush generation:

The Scandal isn’t over, 2018). The outrage led to the resignation of the then Home Secretary

Amber Rudd for her incompetence in dealing with the matter, compensation was promised,

and an inquiry opened. Whilst there seemed to be some solutions to the problem. The

psychological impact on the generations of families who find their stories in Windrush could

not be denied. In November 2018 Sajid Javid, the Home Secretary, admitted to the Home

Affairs Select Committee that 11 of the 83 confirmed as wrongfully deported had died. Javid

further confessed that the government was having challenges contacting those that had been

deported and so the death toll could be higher (Rawlinson, 2018). The insecurity throughout

the British Caribbean Diasporic community that the Windrush Scandal has brought has led to

a mistrust of the system and a re-evaluation for those with British Caribbean Diasporic

identities. The Windrush Scandal will be discussed in more detail later in this chapter.

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From this concise overview of British identities, we see that the political inception of British

identities means that their very nature determines them to be fluid and hyphenated. For those

with British Caribbean Diasporic identities, this results in a varying degree of association

with Britishness, dependant on the individual’s historical experiences. The recent

developments within the British political landscape have highlighted a precarity within

British Caribbean Diasporic identities, which was hidden or ignored before the Windrush

Scandal, causing a reassessment of the relationship to the British within British Caribbean

Diasporic identities. This section has established the hyphenated nature of British identities

and therefore British Caribbean Diasporic identities. This chapter will now historically

contextualise and consider the discourses around Caribbean identities.

2.1.4 Caribbean Identities

Having established the plurality of British identities, this section will look at identities that

have formed through the Caribbean to provide a comprehensive understanding of the nature

of these identities. In doing so, the section will contextualise the Caribbean component of

British Caribbean Diasporic identities. Firstly, this section will provide a general outline of

the development of Caribbean identities within their historical context. In doing this the

section will establish the multiplicity of Caribbean identities through Richard Allsopp’s

‘mosaic identity’ (Allsopp, 2001, p.49) and Hall’s second model of identity (Hall, 1990,

p.225). Having established the multiplicity of Caribbean identities the section will detail the

four levels in which Caribbean identities function, as topologized by Ralph Premdas (2011).

Using Edouard Glissant’s (1997) Relation, Stuart Hall’s (2015) presences and Edward

Kamau Brathwaite’s (1984) Nation Language the section will finally consider the process of

creolisation as a creative and cultural tool that produces Caribbean identities.

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The Caribbean is considered as a group of seven hundred islands ruled by twenty-three

countries located between North and South America, surrounded by the Caribbean Sea. These

islands include Jamaica, Curaçao, Monserrat, Turks and Caicos Islands, Saint Kitts and

Nevis, Haiti, Honduras, Guadeloupe, the Islands of Colombia, and Barbados. In August 1492

Christopher Columbus, with the support of the Spanish monarchy, would depart from Spain

westward in search for the rich land of India. Instead, he would arrive in the Americas, first

arriving at an island known by its natives as Guanahaní, an island known today as the

Bahamas. Popular historical accounts of this time characterise the Indigenous people living in

the Caribbean Islands pre-Columbus as the fierce Caribs and the peaceful Arawak’s

(Dookhan, 1971; Davis, 1992; Rouse, 1992; Craton and Saunders, 2000; Wilson, 2007).

However, Keegan and Hofman (2017) recognise this characterisation as stemming from the

colonial gaze of Columbus in his diro (diary) and contend that the descriptions within that

diary did not reflect the nature of the indigenous Carib, but instead were influenced by:

Columbus’ inability to communicate with the Indigenous people (Keegan and Hofman, 2017,

p.241), his preconceived ‘expectations’ (Keegan and Hofman, 2017, p.241), and his

‘confused sense of political geography’ (Keegan and Hofman, 2017, p.243). The work of

archaeologists in the Caribbean has provided a more accurate picture of the many

ethnic/cultural groups that were populating the region before Columbus arrived. Designating

these groups based on the names of sites where artefacts were discovered (Reid, 2009, p.11)

archaeologists identify the Casimiroid, Ortoioroid, Saladoid, Barrancoid, Troumassan,

Troumassoid, Suazan Troumassiod and Ostinoid people as inhabitants of the islands (Reid,

2009, p.11). Columbus’ arrival in the Americas would mark the beginning of the European

conquest of the Americas. For five hundred years, the British, French, Spanish, Portuguese,

and Dutch would fight amongst each other to establish profitable colonies, where they

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cultivated gold, spices, and other resources from the land. Initially, these conquests saw the

Indigenous people (‘Indians’) be enslaved to the European colonial leaders (Reid, 2009, p.7).

Eric Williams (1994) details how the Indigenous people ‘rapidly succumbed to the excessive

labour demanded of them’ because of ‘the insufficient diet, the white man diseases, and their

inability to adjust themselves to the new way of life’ (Williams, 1994, p.8). After many years

of failed success with enslaving Indigenous peoples, the colonies introduced a system of

indenture.

The first phase of indenture saw ‘sizable numbers’ of Western Europeans brought to North

America and the Caribbean (Galenson, 1984, p.10). From the early sixteenth century,

European leaders would begin to favour African labour over enslaved Indigenous peoples or

European indentured labour, as it was more profitable and sustainable (Williams, 1994, p.9).

The colonial powers used Africa as a key landing point in which they could acquire (at first

through means of trade, and then as demand began to grow through means of raiding,

kidnapping and warfare) manual labour to work in the colonies in America and the Caribbean

(Sherwood, 2007, p.6). By the time African slave labour was introduced onto the islands

almost 90% of the indigenous population would be wiped out (Cook, 1993, p.213). Many of

the Indigenous people who did survive, did so through inter-relations with the maroon

Africans who had escaped the slave trade, creating autonomous communities (Guitar and

Estevez, 2012, p.1026).

European leaders would continue to bring enslaved African labour to the Caribbean islands

until the 19th Century. The abolishment of slavery would mark disaster for European

economies as many enslaved Africans left their former masters (Northrup, 1995, p.17). The

huge demand for sugar in Europe meant that there was a labour deficit to be filled. This

predicament was addressed with the second phase of indenture that would see 2.5 million

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non-Europeans including East Indian, Chinese, Africans Japanese and Javanese (see Northrup

1995) introduced to the islands. During this time the islands also saw Syrian-Lebanese

communities arriving as economic migrants. These were mainly Christian communities

seeking new opportunities after experiencing persecution under the harsh rule of Muslim-

Turks of the Ottoman Empire (Plummer, 1981, p.517)

This brief historical overview gives a general understanding of how the Caribbean islands

became populated over 500 years. Through the consideration of this history, it is evident that

it is not possible to deduce a homogenous Caribbean identity when so many of its inhabitants

arrived at the islands carrying their own cultures and identities.

The previous section used Robin Cohen’s (1994) notion of fuzzy frontiers to illustrate the

multiplicity of Britishness and its relationship to various other cultures and identities. A

frontier (albeit fuzzy) suggests a boundary between two identities that are already in

existence, within a British context these identities may inform and interact with each other

over time. There is, however, a hierarchy of identities present and specific spaces in which

those identities may function. This is not the case within Caribbean identities. Richard

Allsopp (2001) offers the mosaic as a metaphor in which to consider the constitution of

Caribbean identities. Here Caribbean identities are a picture made up of different mosaic

pieces, pieces both big and small, of different shades and colours (Allsopp, 2001, p.49). In

using this analogy, we can consider there to be three dominant colours within the mosaic

picture of Caribbean identities. These three different coloured pieces represent European

ethnicities (colonial powers) – including French, Spanish, English, Scottish, Dutch, and

Portuguese. West African Ethnicities (enslaved people) – including, Ashanti (Ghana), Yoruba

(Southwestern Nigeria), Igbo (Southeastern Nigeria), Vai (Liberia), Chokwe (Angola),

Bakongo (Congo and Angola), Mandé (Guinea), Gbe speakers of Togo, Ghana, and Benin,

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Akan, (Ghana and Ivory Coast), Wolof (Senegal and Gambia), Mbundu (Angola), Chamba

(Cameroon) and Makua (Mozambique) (See Hall, 2005) and finally, Indian identities -

typically from the regions of Bengal, Uttar Pradesh, Oud, Fyzabad, Gonda and Bihar

(Roopnarine, 2002, p.39). In this mosaic, each of the subgroups is represented by different

shades of the colour that their ethnicity is represented within.

In addition to these three major groups of identities and their subethnicities, present within

Caribbean identities are the additional mosaic coloured pieces of the Indigenous groups of

people (mentioned above) who survived through inter-mixing with Maroon Africans (Guitar

and Estevez, 2012) and South-East Asian ethnicities, who were a part of the indentured

communities, in addition to Middle Eastern ethnicities from economic migrant communities.

These ‘mosaic’ identities (Allsopp, 2001, p.49) produce individuals with diverse genetic

constitutions, comprising of Indigenous, African, European and Asian haplotypes6 (Moreno-

Estrada et al., 2013). This has resulted in Caribbean islands that are multi-ethnic, multi-

lingual, multi-religious and multi-cultured spaces. Here notions of origin have been disrupted

through the process of dislocation or abandonment in search of a new life on the islands. On a

visit to several Caribbean islands, Stuart Hall remarked, ‘I was absolutely staggered by the

ethnic and cultural diversity I encountered. Not a single Caribbean island looks like any other

in terms of its ethnic composition, including the different genetic and physical features and

characteristics of the people’ (Hall, 1995, p.5). Stuart Hall, of Jamaican heritage, has Scottish,

Portuguese, Jewish, East Indian and African heritage. When considering the constitution of

6 ‘Set of genetic determinants located on a single chromosome’ (Stevenson, 2010, p.798).

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Caribbean identities, it is evident that both Stuart Hall’s second model of identity and

Gilroy’s Black Atlantic offer significantly helpful ways to articulate the nature of Caribbean

identities. Caribbean identities disrupt ideas within both the modern/postmodern paradigm as

they have no point of origin, instead, they make connections to cultures beyond physical

locality and national boundaries (Hall, 1990; Gilroy, 2000).

Examining the discourses around British and Caribbean identities has revealed the utilisation

of metaphoric illustration to shift our thinking about these identities from one of an imagined

singularity to their multiplicitous reality. Cohen (1994) uses the image of frontiers to explain

the intersections of British identity, whilst Allsopp (2001) adopts the mosaic to demonstrate

the multiple parts of Caribbean identities. These metaphors are helpful when considering

identities such as British Caribbean Diasporic identities. However, these examples do not

demonstrate the dynamism present in identities and identity construction. The metaphors

utilised by these scholars suggest a fixity and permanence, which is more akin to modern

identities than the fluidity of the postmodern paradigm. These metaphors are not compatible

with Hall’s second model of becoming, which is always in progress. This research, therefore,

attempts to overcome the fixity of these metaphors by adopting the botanical subterranean

rhizome stem as its primary method for considering the plurality of British Caribbean

Diasporic identities and their nature. A rhizome has both roots and stems that grow from its

nodes, growing perpendicular, the rhizome has no distinguishable point of origin, but has

multiple connections that are both vertical and horizontal. The rhizome will be explored

conceptually in chapter four. This thesis is interested in the way that movement (specifically

choreographed performance) functions as a tool through which identities can be created,

established, and understood. Chapter three will further explore how movement functions as a

tool in which we can theorise identity. The analysis and consideration of movement in

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chapters five to eight will demonstrate how through a rhizomatic practice of rooting

multiplicitous British Caribbean Diasporic identities are negotiated, (re)created, and

embodied within the case study artists’ work.

Building further on the idea of multiplicity within Caribbean identities, Ralph Premdas

(2011) offers a typology of identities that exemplifies the circumstance of the Caribbean.

Premdas offers four identities that function on different levels; ethno-national or ethno-local

identities, ethno-national universal identities, national identities and finally trans-Caribbean

identities (Premdas, 2011, p.828). Premdas is clear to note that each level of identity has its

own set of ‘behavioural structure[s]’ (Premdas, 2011, p.828) which fulfil a specific need,

whether that be symbolic and/or instrumental (Premdas, 2011, p.828). These types of

Caribbean identities can be exclusive and establish their own boundaries which ‘assert a

claim’ (Premdas, 2011, p.828). On the other hand, they also overlap and form in the same

spaces, which can become a ‘source of strife’ (Premdas, 2011, p.828). Gaining a more

comprehensive understanding of Caribbean identities will allow for an accurate consideration

of British Caribbean Diasporic identities and where they fit on the spectrum of Caribbean

identities. It is, therefore, beneficial to discuss the typology of Caribbean identities that

Premdas puts forward.

The first type of Caribbean identity that Premdas distinguishes is ethno-national or ethno-

local identities. These identities are produced within ‘sub-state localities’ (Premdas, 2011,

p.828) in which communities of sub-cultures produce attachments which are in some part

territorial but also aligned with morals, values, and practices which constitute their sub-

culture, creating a ‘special and unique way of life’ (Premdas, 2011, p.828). For those

engaging with this identity, they see their sub-culture as the primary association of their

identity, secondary to the larger territorial state within which the identity occurs. Premdas

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uses the example of Tobagonians in Trinidad and Tobago, who tend to separate themselves

from Trinidad both philosophically in their way of life (expressing superiority to that of

Trinidad) and politically, with the willingness to challenge the central government for an

‘autonomous status’ (Premdas, 2011, p.828). The locality of ethno-local identities, which

typically emerges within spaces of a ‘larger state territory’ (Premdas, 2011, p.828) or larger

population, is seen as ‘sacred and pure, a place of freedom and morality, to be protected from

the corrupting influence of unwelcome outsiders’ (Premdas, 2011, p.828). Within diasporic

communities, there tends to be a romanticism around their home (the nature of diasporic

identities will be explored further in the next section). Essentially Premdas places ethno-local

identities as being ‘caught in a network of interpersonal primary and secondary face-to-face

relations in the family neighbourhood and community that comprehend and promote the

totality of a unified consciousness that is relatively free from internal challenges and

dissonance’ (Premdas, 2011, p.828).

The second type of Caribbean identity that Premdas identifies is ethno-national universal.

Premdas places these identities in the centre of a continuum which has local/national

identities at one end and universal/global identities at the other. This position within the

centre produces identities which are connected to similar communities to that of their own in

other parts of the world. The defining feature of these identities is that there is a ‘loyalty and

attachment’ (Premdas, 2011, p.829) that goes beyond their local territory where members

may reside and have national citizenship, to a ‘large extra-state community’ (Premdas, 2011,

p.829). An example of such can be found in the Rastafarian community in the Caribbean who

occupy specific areas both urban and rural on the islands as well as being connected to

similar communities within London, Birmingham, Liverpool, Amsterdam, Paris, Auckland,

Zimbabwe, South Africa, Toronto, Miami, and elsewhere across the globe (Savishinsky,

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1994, pp.259–281). Such communities may be sustained through exchanges of literature,

music and other cultural productions, as well as forming political programmes and other

ideological manifestos (Premdas, 2011, p.829). In addition, they are sustained through the

connection of shared cultural ‘symbols, rituals and politics’ (Premdas, 2011, p.829), holding

on to primordial myths of descent. Most significantly these groups also collectively challenge

any oppressive state or symbol that may infringe on their ‘rights as a community in the

practice of their beliefs and rituals’ (Premdas, 2011, p.829). An example of this is seen

amongst Amerindian communities from Guyana, Suriname and French Guyana, who stood

together with the Sioux people against the USA government to protect their sacred ancestral

land in the Standing Rock Movement (Bosques, 2016).

The third type of Caribbean identity that Premdas offers are national identities. These

identities are ‘born in the congruence between the beliefs of a community and those of the

state’ (Premdas, 2011, p.830). These identities produce nationalistic ideals, with individuals

identifying as Jamaican, Haitian or Guadeloupean over connecting to a wider identity that

says, “I am Caribbean”. Premdas notes that with national identities, it is important to

highlight that there is a high attachment of group loyalty that is neither constituted of people

that have relation, an interpersonal, a community basis or have a familiarity with one another.

They are identities that allow the plurality of identities and genealogies within the Caribbean

spectrum to establish wider collective identities with each other and the island in which they

reside. This produces an ‘overriding’ (Premdas, 2011, p.830) claim from issues that may arise

from ‘racial, cultural, language locational or racial division’ (Premdas, 2011, p.830). Whilst

these types of identities tend to cling to idealism; they are not without their exclusions. In his

paper, Premdas brings our attention to Trinidad, Guyana, and Suriname where those who are

nationalistic are often individuals who are politically or ethno-culturally dominant. These

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groups of people can be a threat to other smaller communities who inhabit the islands,

therefore, producing a precarity with the way in which the nationalist identities interact with

other ethno-local/national identities. In this way, Premdas recognises national identities to be

a ‘source of strife’ (Premdas, 2011, p.828) throughout plural communities in the Caribbean.

The fourth and final identity that Premdas classifies is the trans-Caribbean identity. These

identities occur within Caribbean individuals who are living across the world in Caribbean

diasporas. Those who adopt this identity may identify with an ethnic Caribbean identity

without speaking the language or engaging in cultural practices or traditions. Premdas

recognises those who argue for this identity as being able to ‘recite a litany of historical facts

on slavery, plantations, colonialism, and sugar’ (Premdas, 2011, p.830). Premdas places

trans-Caribbean identities as bordering on 'fantasy' bred from an 'imagination bereaved of its

natural Caribbean sights and sounds, flourishing abundantly in the freedom of the

imagination’ (Premdas, 2011, p.830). Those within this identity may hold impassioned

beliefs that are the result of a created set of cultural practices and values that specifically

distinguish their identity. In his definition of trans-Caribbean identities, Premdas notes that

there is a question of sustainability of such identities as subsequent generations become less

and less informed about key ideas around the Caribbean. As those generations become less

informed, as Premdas puts it, a ‘new invented identity’ (Premdas, 2011, p.816) emerges as

aspects of the localised identity in which the Caribbean descended individual resides in starts

to enter the generational lineage. This often results in the Caribbean becoming ‘myth’

(Premdas, 2011, p.816) as the generations become more and more detached from their place

of origin. There is a vocalised unity amongst those carrying trans-Caribbean identities, a

homogeny in plight, a solidarity in their connection to the Caribbean (Premdas, 2011, p.831).

This, however, does not usually produce a unified Caribbean community, as members often

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flock to their own insular Puerto-Rican or Dominican communities, at times even identifying

as Indo-Caribbean or Haitian Caribbean (Premdas, 2011, p.831) to further position their

allegiance to their ethnonational identity as primary. This reality breaks the ideology of this

identity and reflects the actuality of relations within the region which are often fraught and

fractured (Premdas, 2011, p.831). Premdas comments on the trans-Caribbean identity as

being,

[…] the highest form of nationalist fantasy. To some, it is an aspiration

while to others it is a useful badge to register complaints and make claims

in a foreign land. It is as much an excuse for collecting grievances as to

provoke counterclaims of cultural hegemony practised by some Caribbean

groups. This identity exists everywhere in the hearts of individuals in the

divided diaspora and nowhere in reality. It is invoked and used to justify

rival claims and to stake out new territory for exploitation but is diluted

and compromised by the claims of new identities emanating from their

new home environment in the industrial countries. It is in this respect a

divided if not schizophrenic identity, dwelling in several locations

simultaneously. In a global perspective of mass migration, it is not an

unusual identity. It is a quest for community in a fragmented and fractured

world in which the Caribbean is a mirror

(Premdas, 2011, p.831)

When considering the different types of Caribbean identities that Premdas proposes, it is

evident that British Caribbean Diasporic identities can be categorised locally in Britain as

ethno-national identities and globally as trans-Caribbean identities. Having said this, this

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research contends that British Caribbean Diasporic identities are not ‘ambivalent’ (Premdas,

2011, p.22), ‘diluted’, or ‘compromised’ (Premdas, 2011, p.31) but are in their very nature a

continuity of Caribbean identities that function and speak differently because of the

environments in which they are being produced.

Rex Nettleford (2003) recognises that to some the Caribbean represents the societal harmony,

peace and cultural integration, whilst to others, the pressure of survival is what is holding

together a multitude of ethnicities and cultures (Nettleford, 2003, p.xii). Nettleford identifies

that Caribbean people have ‘learnt to live together, rather than side by side’ (Nettleford,

2003, p.xii) and in some cases have learnt to live side by side rather than together (Nettleford,

2003, p.xii), adopting the ‘world is our village’ (Jaques De Lors cited in Nettleford 2003 xiii)

mentality which emphasises the mutual interest that all communities have in living peacefully

(Nettleford, 2003, p.xii). The tensions and harmonies that arise from inhabiting the Caribbean

islands have produced varying cultural expressions that reflect the diversity of the islands. A

significant theoretical concept of this research that explores this is creolisation. Finding its

locus through the creation and cultures in the Caribbean, creolisation has developed into a

broader theoretical area that is applied globally (See: Cohen, 1994; Glissant, 1997; Sidbury,

2007; Stewart, 2007; Glissant, 2011; Van der Waal, 2012). For time sake, the final part of

this discussion on Caribbean identities will look at creolisation as a cultural process occurring

in the Caribbean through Edward Kamau Brathwaite’s (1984) Nation Language, Stuart Hall’s

(2015) presences and Edouard Glissant’s (1997) Relation.

There is a consensus amongst scholars that it has been through a process of creolisation that

diverse and multiplicitous Caribbean identities have been formed. Ideas around creolisation

and creole societies were initially introduced in relation to the Anglophone islands by Edward

Kamau Brathwaite in the 1970s. Brathwaite – a poet, academic and historian- through several

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publications including Contradictory Omens: Cultural Diversity and Integration in the

Caribbean (1974) and History of the Voice: The Development of Nation Language in

Anglophone Poetry (1984), established his ideas of creole theory and Nation Language.

Nation Language is produced out of a submerged underground culture formed by the

enslaved Africans as they began to produce a means of communication using what they had

left behind on the coast of West Africa and what was being forced onto them by the Spanish,

French, Dutch or British. Brathwaite describes the form as being an ‘underground language

[that] was constantly transforming itself into new forms. It was moving from a purely African

form to a form which was African but which was adapted to the new environment and

adapted to the cultural imperative of the European languages’ (Brathwaite, 1995, p.283). This

new language did not only mark the beginning of the process of creolisation for the enslaved

Africans but also for Europeans in the Caribbean whose language also began to adapt under

the influence of these new Nation Languages (Brathwaite, 1995, p.283). In his book

Contradictory Omens: Cultural Diversity and Integration in the Caribbean (1974)

Brathwaite depicts creolisation in the Caribbean as ‘a cultural process perceived as taking

place within a continuum of space and time’ (Brathwaite, 1974, p.10). Stuart Hall recognises

this process of creolisation as creating a permanent entanglement between the histories of

different groups of people from different backgrounds as they come together (Hall, 2015,

p.15) on Caribbean soil. Brathwaite distinguishes the characteristics of Nation Languages as

being: passed down through the oral tradition; based on ‘sound as much as song’ (Brathwaite,

1984, p.311) (therefore expressed as part of a community and not solitary), being part of

‘total expression’ (Brathwaite, 1984, p.312), and finally, being part of a continuum.

Brathwaite explains,

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… we have come to accept the idea (and reality) of Caribbean speech as a

continuum: ancestral through creole to national and international forms […]

to confine our definition to literature to written texts, in a culture that

remains ital in most of its people proceedings, is as limiting as its opposite:

trying to define Caribbean literature as essential orature – like eating

avocado without its likkle salt

(Brathwaite, 1984, p.49)

Brathwaite’s notion of Nation Language can be expanded to British Caribbean Diasporic

identities. This is seen through their interactions and entanglement with hyphenated British

identities, which has led to the production of new iterations of language and understanding. It

is, however, important to apply Premdas ‘trans-Caribbean’ (Premdas, 2011, p.831)

understanding of “Nation” in Brathwaite’s Nation Language. British Caribbean Diasporic

identities are producing Nation Language in a different way to ethno-national and national

identities, therefore the connections made through British Caribbean Diasporic identities

make different types of connections on their continuum (again, the rhizome helps illuminate

this and will be explored further in chapter four). Chapter eight will demonstrate how Nation

Language is not limited to language vocabulary but can be expanded to include movement

vocabulary. The presence of Nation Language within British Caribbean Diasporic cultural

expression signifies a process of continuing creolisation within British Caribbean Diasporic

identities. This will be explored further in section 2.1.5 of this chapter.

Martinican philosopher, poet, and essayist Edouard Glissant’s (1989) ideas on Antillanté

(Caribbeanness) go beyond the notions of simple métissage of cultures within a ‘shared

experience’ (1989, p.222) to a ‘conscious expression’ (1989, p.222) of Caribbean identity that

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is ‘grounded in collective affirmation’ and ‘supported by the activism of the people’

(Glissant, 1989, p.222). Glissant’s Antillanté is part of a wider theory that he developed

called Relation (Glissant, 1997). Relation sees the enmeshment of both history and culture; it

is a process of mixing both culturally and linguistically (Hall, 2015, p.15) that cannot be

undone. In his book, Poetics of Relation (1997) Glissant explains how creolisation is the

process that constitutes his notion of Relation,

What took place in the Caribbean, which could be summed up in the word

creolisation, approximates the idea of Relation for us as nearly as possible.

It is not merely an encounter, a shock […] a métissage but a new and original

dimension allowing each person to be there and elsewhere, rooted and open,

lost in the mountains and free beneath the sea, in harmony and in errantry

(Glissant, 1997, p.34)

The space in which this mixing occurs becomes an indigenous vernacular space of

transculturation that marks the meeting and entanglement of these cultures (Hall, 2015, p.15).

Stuart Hall (2015) recognises this process of creolisation as occurring through tenuous and

hostile environments where those carrying different languages, cultures, and histories meet

(Hall, 2015, p.15). The Relation that occurs in these environments instigates processes of

unceasing transformation (Glissant, 1997, p.34), in this sense, Glissant’s Antillanté like

Brathwaite’s Nation Language exists on a continuum of process in which identities are

endlessly becoming (Hall, 1990). These ideas render essentialist notions of Caribbean culture

and identity as inaccurate and lazy characterisations.

The environment in which processes of creolisation occur can be characterised by what Mary

Louise Pratt calls contact zones. Contact zones are spaces of ‘colonial encounter in which

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peoples who are geographically and historically separated come into contact with each other

and establish ongoing relations, usually involving conditions of coercion, radical inequality,

and intractable conflict’ (Pratt, 1992, p.6). Pratt negotiates the power dynamics present when

speaking of colonial history by describing places of ‘contact’ rather than colonial frontiers or

land (Pratt, 1992, p.6). This forces the consideration of a ‘copresence, interaction,

interlocking understanding and practices’ (Pratt, 1992, p.6) that affects all parties involved

and brings value to the enslaved and indentured voice within spaces or zones that produce

‘radically asymmetrical relations of power’ (Pratt, 1992, p.6).

It is within these contact zones through processes of creolisation that Glissant’s Relation

enables individuals to be in several locations at once, producing new identities that are

simultaneously rooted and open (Glissant, 1997, p.90). The forming of these identities

includes a knowing ‘that the other is within us and affects how we evolve as well as the bulk

of our conceptions and the development of our sustainability’ (Glissant, 1997, p.27). The

inclusion of the Other within the formation of a creolised identity, is also reflected in Stuart

Hall’s idea of identity construction as being,

a narrative which we tell ourselves about ourselves, it is stories which

change with historical circumstances. And identity shifts with the way in

which we think and hear them far from only coming from the still small

point of truth inside us, identities actually come from the outside, they are

the way in which we are recognised and then come to step into the place of

recognition which others give us, without the others there is no self, there is

no self-recognition

(Hall, 1995, p.8)

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Nowhere is this more prevalent than in a creole identity in which the self/Other and the

tensions between them are embodied in one identity into a poetics of Relation (Glissant,

1997). As Shirley Ann Tate (2015) puts it, ‘Glissant’s creolisation enables us to identify and

disidentify with the Other in order to emerge as Others of ourselves […] Creolisation does

not entail a loss of identity or renouncing of the self but a distancing from fixity’ (Tate, 2015,

p.102). Glissant rejects identity as fixed through his notion of creolisation, and instead uses

Deleuze’s and Guattari’s (1987) notion of the rhizome which offers a dynamism to

demonstrate the multiplicity that exists within Caribbean identities. Glissant states that it is

rhizomatic thought that is behind his notion of Relation (Glissant, 1997, p.11). The rhizome

plays a significant role in developing the key concepts of this research and will be explored

more in relation to notions of rooting in chapter four.

Taking Glissant’s ideas around creolisation and responding to the Négritude movement, with

which they did not identify, the creolité group of Martinique in 1989, (Jean Bernabé, Patrick

Chamoiseu and Raphel Confiant), published Éloge de la Creolité (In praise of the

Creoleness). The monograph reflected on the creative consequences of creolisation as relating

to art and literature, creating the creolité movement. This movement sees creolisation as a

process which creates a foundation in which distinctive creativity can be produced, in this

way creolisation becomes an ‘expressive basis for cultural production’ (Hall, 2015, p.19).

The creolité movement is described by Stuart Hall (2015) as a ‘call-to-arms’ by creatives,

artists and intellectuals and as a philosophical manifesto (Hall, 2015, p.19). For the group it

was a ‘vision intérieur’ (Bernabé, Chamoiseu, and Confiant, 1989, p.14), an interior vision of

a hybrid world made up of ‘disseminated and recomposed fragments’ (Bernabé, Chamoiseu

and Confiant, 1989, p.15). The theorists argue that the artistic expressions that creolité

encourages come out of a process of creolisation. Hall, on the other hand, argues that

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creolisation creates the ‘necessary conditions’ for an environment in which creolité can exist.

Hall identifies that Creolité goes further than Glissant’s ideas around creolisation; Glissant

outlined the theory as one that looked forward, ruling out a ‘return to the beginning’ to an

essentialist authentic identity (Hall, 2015, p.19). In this sense, Glissant’s philosophy does not

completely regard the history of violence and rupture that was inflicted on those people on

the island but instead deals with the present condition of the people. On the other hand,

Creolité, as Hall recognises, has tropes that recur, those of ‘[…] transplantation and forced

labour, of mastery and subordination, the subjugations of plantation life and the daily

humiliation of the colony; as well as the whole range of survival strategies – mimicry

signifin’, and vernacularization […]’ (Hall, 2015, p.19). As Creolité allows for both the

present and past to be considered within its production, it behaves as a spectrum that is

informed both by what has gone and what has happened and what may be. It is important to

remember that the Creolité movement was specifically developed in a ‘self-conscious

Francophone reading’ (Hall, 2015, p.19) of creolisation that considered the cultural and

artistic consequences of creolisation within a Francophone context. Creolité is comparable to

what we see in Brathwaite’s Anglophone conceptualisation of Nation Language, which was

developed earlier.

Stuart Hall (2015) also puts forward a notion of thinking about creolisation in the Caribbean,

using the idea of presences. Hall identifies three different presences, presence Africaine,

presence Européenne and presence Américaine (Hall, 2015). It is the point at which these

three presences meet that a distinctive colonial space emerges, one that facilitates a ‘third

space – a space of unsettled conquest, of forced exile, of unholiness’ (Hall, 2015, p.16). Hall

defines presence Africaine as the ‘subterranean trace or voice of Africa – that Africa which is

alive and well in the diaspora’ (Hall, 2015, p.16). Once submerged by its oppressor’s regime,

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presence Africaine has become more prominent in societies such as Jamaica (in the 60’s and

’70s) where it found its voice through a ‘cultural revolution, which made [Jamaica] self-

consciously, for the first time a “black society”’ (Hall, 2015, p.17). Using Henry Louis Gates’

strategies of signifying7 (Gates, 1988), Hall recognises the ways in which presence Africaine

has bubbled to the surface, initially subverting cultural dominance through mimicry, evasion

and detour to eventually be used as a tool for cultural revolution (Hall, 2015, p.17). Although

Hall terms it as presence Africaine, he also recognises that this presence is not just restricted

to the geographical location of Africa but the cultures that the indentured East Indian,

Chinese and other minorities bought with them when they arrived on Caribbean shores (Hall,

2015, p.17). This is exemplary of how Glissant’s Relation indicates a process of

entanglement that cannot be undone (Glissant, 1997, p.118).

The second presence that Hall classifies is the presence Européenne, the dominant voice that

is continuously speaking (Hall, 2015, p.17), derived from British, French, Spanish and Dutch

cultures. Despite the domination of these cultures, they are not considered ‘purer’ than

presence Africaine, Hall explains, ‘Insofar as it has become “indigenized” within Caribbean

society and is not merely an external noise beamed at the region from outside, it too

consistently translates. It has been subject to the tropicalization of having to exist alongside a

very different set of cultural impulses […]’ (Hall, 2015, p.17). Presence Américaine is the

final presence that Hall identifies and is the ‘crucial’ presence that ‘distinguishes creolisation’

(Hall, 2015, p.17). This presence represents the native disruption that occurred in order for

7 Henry Louis Gates (1988) uses the concept of signifying (creative play between the literal and the figurative meaning of words) in his renowned work “The Signifying Monkey” to consider the relationship between prominent African American literary work.

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creolisation to take place, the ‘disruptive force of the local’ – the vernacular, the indigenous

‘native ground’ (Hall, 2015, p.17), the contact zone in which both the presence Européenne

and presence Africaine meet. Hall’s notion of these three presences does not allow for any

historical violence or ruptures to be forgotten, but forces those considering them to ‘come to

terms’ with the various parties which sacrificed a part of themselves producing the effect of

creolisation. These contact zones, considered as the New World, are identified by Hall as

sites of displacement and of diaspora (Hall, 2015, p.18).

Hall’s observation of the New World as a space of ‘displacement and diaspora’ is a notable

one, that needs further consideration within the context of British Caribbean Diasporic

communities. The British Caribbean Diasporic community in Britain, as suggested in the

name, is a diaspora of a diaspora, and so there is a shift in the relationship to the presences

that Hall presents. For this reason, and to locate British Caribbean Diasporic identities further

the next section of this chapter will briefly engage with theories of diaspora.

The above overview of Caribbean identities, the histories and some of the discourses and

concepts around these identities and cultures provides us with an understanding of the ways

in which British Caribbean Diasporic identities may function differently to other hyphenated

British identities. More than just outlining the historical context of the Caribbean, this section

explored Caribbean (Caribcentric) ideas around identity formation and cultural production.

These ideas will be explored further later in the chapter and chapter four.

2.1.5 Diasporic Identities

Diasporic identities exist across many cultures and locations. Stuart Hall (1995) calls this the

cross currents of diaspora (Hall, 1995, p.5). These identities are ‘unidirectional’ and ‘chaotic’

(Gilroy, 2000, p.128) encompassing sameness within differentiation and differentiation

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within sameness, equally and simultaneously (Gilroy, 2000, p.125). Gilroy suggests that

diaspora facilitates complex conceptions of ‘sameness’ and ‘versions of solidarity’ that need

not repress differences within a ‘dispersed group in order to maximise the differences

between one ‘essential community and others’ (Gilroy, 2000, p.252). This contests modern

perspectives on identity construction, as discussed in section 2.1.1. In this way, Gilroy

suggests that diasporic identities resist being captured or pinned down despite their

authenticity (Gilroy, 2000, p.252). Stuart Hall also prefers to see the ‘unities in difference’

(Hall, 1987, p.45) within identity, using the term differance to make that distinction in his

paper Minimal Selves (1987). The difference that Hall refers to is informed by Jacques

Derrida’s notion of difference. Hall explains,

Meaning is inherently unstable: it aims for closure [identity] but is

constantly disrupted [by difference]. It is constantly sliding away from us.

There are always supplementary meanings over which we have no control,

which will arise and subvert our attempts to create fixed and stable worlds

(Hall et al. 1992, p.288)

In this sense, Hall’s concept of diaspora looks towards the future and its possibilities,

differance rejects the ability to capture an identity as it is continually moving. It exists within

its becoming. Hall (1990) notes that for the Caribbean identity ‘its complexity exceeds this

binary structure of representation at different places and times in relation to different

questions, the boundaries are re-sited’ (Hall, 1990, p.228).

For Murdoch (2007), the ‘diasporic condition’ for the Caribbean subject is very particular,

‘functioning through revisioned patterns of alienation and displacement …’ (Murdoch, 2007,

p.579). He references what Homi Bhabha calls the ‘new international space of discontinuous

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historical realities’ (Bhabha 1994, p.217) to define the space in which this displacement

encounters a deliberate set of ‘boundaries and limitations imposed by a conjunction of

difference and society’ (Murdoch, 2007, p.579).

To understand the nature of diasporas and the identities that they create, this section will

briefly examine significant models put forward by theorists in the area. It will focus on

models offered by William Safran (1991) and Robin Cohen (2002) demonstrating why these

models of diaspora are not appropriate for this research. The section will then explore Steven

Vertovec’s (1997) model of diaspora in conjunction with Gilroy’s Black Atlantic and a

rhizomatic understanding of multiplicitous identities. This will form a framework to

comprehend the diasporic nature of British Caribbean Diasporic identities.

The term diaspora was once assigned to the Jewish population and their dispersal across the

world. Today it has broadened to include the dispersion, dislocation and deterritorialisation of

any population (Baumann, 2000, p.314). Phil Cohen (1998) argues that the term diaspora has

become a ‘portmanteau word, one that may mean almost all things to all people’ (Cohen,

1998, p.7). Others argue that there is no longer an agreed definition within the diaspora

discourse (Lie, 1995), whilst Brubaker (2005) argues that in its development the term has

come to overlap with other terms such as immigrant, expatriate, ethnic community, refugee

and more (p.3). Such contention is evident in the creation of multiple frameworks and sub-

definitions that scholars have established in order to help pin down some of the ambiguity

attached to the term, such as virtual diasporas, (Laguerre, 2006) victim diasporas, (Cohen,

1996), complex diasporas (Werbner, 2004), and ethnic diasporas (Kitching, Smallbone and

Athayde, 2009).

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Classic definitions of the term see diasporisation as forced movement, people in exile with a

sense of loss and longing for their homeland. William Safran (1991) made an effort to create

a framework of an ‘ideal type’ diaspora, classifying the characteristics needed for this

definition with a focus on the Jewish diaspora. This ‘ideal-type’ diaspora of ‘expatriate

minority communities’ consists of six characteristics including, that they are dispersed from

an original central location to two or more peripheral locations and that they have a collective

memory or mythology of their homeland which is maintained by the community and that

binds them together. This involves people who are alienated from the country they were

dispersed to and may not ever be fully accepted there. There also tends to be an idealisation

of returning to their ancestral homeland and a maintained commitment to restore the

homeland to its former glory (pp.83–84). Safran’s definition has been applied to the African

diaspora; however, Safran’s ‘ideal type’ definition is indeed ideal, and no single diaspora can

encompass all the characteristics of every diaspora (Clifford, 1994, p.305). Consequently, this

framework is not the best to apply to the British Caribbean Diasporic experience.

Safran’s ideal-type framework has been developed by Robin Cohen in his book Global

Diasporas ( 2002). Here Cohen breaks down Diasporas into various types in an attempt to

transcend the dominant discourse around diaspora that focuses on a ‘victim tradition’ (p.178).

Cohen ultimately identifies five categories of diaspora and uses gardening terms as a way of

illustrating these types of diaspora. They are:

1. Victim/ refugee as weeding (Jews, Africans, Irish…)

2. Imperial/ Colonial as sowing (Ancient Greek, British, Spanish, Dutch…)

3. Labour/ service as transplanting (Chinese, Japanese, Sikhs, Turks…)

4. Trade /business as layering (Lebanese, Indians …)

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5. Cultural/hybrid postmodern as cross-pollinating (the Caribbean, Chinese,

Indians…)

(Cohen, 2002, p.178).

This theory is questioned by some (Clifford, 1994; Brah, 1996; Kalra, Kaur and Hutnyk,

2005), Virinder Kalra et.al (2005) for example, recognises that it is problematic for Cohen to

assign the Indian diaspora entirely to the labour type of diaspora. Although Cohen recognises

that there are overlaps within the types, this doesn’t seem to go far enough to unpack the

complexities of the Indian Diaspora which involves other aspects of migration and settlement

which take the diasporic form (Kalra, Kaur and Hutnyk, 2005, p.12). Whilst this framework

is helpful, this research will not use it as a basis for analysis as a consequence of Kalra et al.’s

observations. Kalra et al. describe the framework as a ‘neat’ and good starting point for a

historical overview and a place to begin thinking of diaspora in a more critical way (Kalra,

Kaur and Hutnyk, 2005, p.12).

For the British Caribbean Diaspora- a diaspora of the Caribbean, it is more appropriate to

consider Steven Vertovec’s (1999) approach to diaspora. Vertovec identifies three types of

definitions or approaches that a diaspora may have. A diaspora would qualify as a diaspora

regardless of whether it had one or all of these types. These are: the diaspora as a social form,

the diaspora as a type of consciousness and diaspora as a mode of cultural production

(Vertovec, 1999, p.2). For the British Caribbean Diaspora, all these type definitions apply.

The first, diaspora as a social form, is a population that spans transnational borders and

relationships are maintained despite the population’s dispersal. They may be globally

dispersed, but they collectively identify as an ethnic group and relate to their homeland

(Vertovec, 1999). This is evident in the British Caribbean Diasporic community’s advocacy

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of their culture, food, and music, seen in such celebrations as the Notting Hill Carnival. The

second approach sees diaspora as a type of consciousness, which is ‘marked’ (Vertovec,

1999, p.8) by the sense of multiple and dual identifications or consciousnesses, there is

awareness from the individual of a ‘decentred attachment’ which simultaneously allows them

to exist in multiple societies; there is belonging in the host land as well as the individual’s

homeland. Within this consciousness comes a ‘collective memory’ and ‘shared imagination’

(Vertovec, 1999, p.9) which (especially with the age of technology) allows a diaspora to be

recreated and held together. This multiple consciousness is experienced across different

diasporic communities within Britain (See Uzor, 2018a) including the British Caribbean

Diaspora. Section (2.2) of this chapter will introduce double consciousness (Du Bois, 1903,

p.5) as a theoretical characteristic of British Caribbean Diasporic identities.

The third of Vertovec’s approach sees diaspora as a mode of cultural production, as

demonstrated within the process of creolisation in the previous section. Vertovec expresses

cultural production within diaspora as ‘involving the production and reproduction of

transnational social and cultural phenomena’ (Vertovec, 1999, p.19). This is the space where

creolisation and hybridity (Bhabha, 1994, p.4) exist. The creation of what is known as

‘cultural products8’ (aesthetics) are fluid and subject to multiple influences as they connect

on local, national, and transnational levels. This third approach can be seen within the

movement material created by the identified case studies of this research. Chapters five to

8 Chapter four of this research will explain why it deems cultural products to be an inappropriate term for this research. It will use the term cultural aesthetics to describe the function of cultural production before it is commodified into a product.

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eight will consider how movement is being embodied differently throughout the case study

artists’ work.

In the introduction to this section, we briefly looked at Paul Gilroy’s conceptualisation of the

African and African Diaspora as the Black Atlantic. When considering Vertovec’s approach

to the diaspora within the British Caribbean Diasporic context, it is useful to consider

Vertovec’s approach to diaspora through Gilroy’s concept as it specifically considers “Black”

diasporas. The Black Atlantic intentionally does not focus on geographical locations and

instead focuses on the movement of African people across the globe. It refers to the

‘deterritorialised, multiplex and anti-national basis for the affinity or “identity of passions”

between diverse black populations’ (Gilroy, 1996, p.18). For Gilroy, this diaspora is one that

is concerned with ‘flows, exchanges and in-between elements’ (Gilroy, 1993, p.190).

Gilroy’s Black Atlantic transcends nation and ethnicity and focuses on the diaspora as a

singular complex unit of analysis that positions this diaspora as a transnational and

intercultural process. The Black Atlantic provides further insight into the rhizomatic

connections that make and inform British Caribbean Diasporic identities across transnational

routes. The Black Atlantic theoretically substantiates the variegated nature of the British

Caribbean Diaspora and acknowledges the layered complexity of such analysis.

This research recognises that there are limitations to all these frameworks of analysing

diaspora and seeks to implement a progressive framework in which to analyse British

Caribbean Diasporic identities. Criticism of Vertovec’s approach to diaspora sees it as static

(Ritzer and Dean, 2014, p.283). This research addresses these limitations and criticism by

considering Vertovec’s approach through the lens of Gilroy’s Black Atlantic, the rhizomatic

paradigm of multiplicitous identities, and Hall’s second model of identity that functions

transnationally. This conceptualisation of the British Caribbean Diaspora allows it to be an

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incomplete process that is always in formation and as a consequence cannot be entirely

essentialised through categorisation.

This section has briefly discussed the model and approaches to diaspora and diasporic

identities. It has demonstrated that through a collaborative understanding of diaspora (using

the rhizome with the work of Gilroy, Hall, Vertovec, and Premdas) a more complete

framework of analysis is formed in which to consider the diasporic nature of British

Caribbean Diasporic identities. The following section of this chapter will give a historical

overview of the development of British Caribbean Diasporic identities in Britain.

2.2 A Historical Overview of British Caribbean Diasporic Identities

Having located what this thesis understands British Caribbean Diasporic identities to be, the

final section of this chapter will historically contextualise the development of British

Caribbean Diasporic identities which formed out of the West Indian community that arrived

in Britain during the 1950s. Through the overview of this history, this section will introduce

the identified theoretical characteristics of British Caribbean Diasporic identities that are

present within the analysis of this research and will be discussed further in chapter nine.

Understanding the historical context of British Caribbean Diasporic identities will allow us to

comprehend the complex genealogy of these identities and have a further understanding of

the context in which the case studies of this research are choreographing.

We can identify the 1970s as a time in which an established and defined British Caribbean

Diasporic identity started to emerge from the ethno-local Caribbean communities within the

UK. To contextualise the development of the British Caribbean Diasporic identities it is

necessary to give a brief overview of the surge in Caribbean people arriving from the islands

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to Britain, establish their journey of integration within the society, and finally consider the

ways in which they started to form an identity that differed from Caribbean identities.

Andrea Levy (2004) encapsulates the feeling of those leaving the Caribbean for Britain in the

1940s and 1950s in her novel Small Island. In the following passage Hortense, the wife of the

main character Gilbert, recalls her friend Celia Langley dreaming of what she would do when

she left Jamaica and arrived in England.

“When I am older Hortense, I will be leaving Jamaica and I will be going

to live in England”. This is when her voice became high-class and her nose

point in the air- well, as far as her round flat nose could- and she swayed

as she bought the picture to her mind’s eye. “Hortense, in England I will

have a big house with a bell on the front door and I will ring the bell”. And

she made the sound, ding-a-ling, ding-a-ling. “I will ring the bell in this

house when I am in England. That is what will happen to me when I am

older”

(Levy, 2004, p.9)

Hortense, having left Jamaica faces the realities of England,

There was I in England ringing the doorbell on one of the tallest houses I

had seen… ever. But when I pressed this doorbell, I did not hear the ring.

No ding-a-ling, ding-a-ling. I pressed once more in case the bell was not

operational. The house, I could see, was shabby

(Levy, 2004, p.10)

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In 1948, the SS Empire Windrush filled with five hundred hopeful settlers arrived in Tilbury

Docks, London. The above extract from Andrea Levy’s Small Island (2004) set in 1948 is

exemplary of the disappointment that was experienced by those arriving in England. The

Mother Country’s streets were not paved with gold as they had been told. The bells did not

ring loudly as they thought they would. The doors did not open. The arrival of the Windrush

marked the first significant influx of British Caribbean people on native British soil9, who as

‘British subjects10’ were offered economic opportunities to help rebuild Britain and solve its

labour shortage after the Second World War. It is important to expand our notions of the

locality of Britain. Since the colonial period, those islands and countries controlled by the

British government were considered British territory, and therefore the people in these

countries were considered British subjects.

The decision by the then Labour government was to use labour from the Caribbean colonial

islands. This was not without opposition, with the Ministry of Labour at the time giving a

multitude of excuses as to why sourcing labour from the colonial West Indies was a bad idea.

These concerns included that Caribbean people were not suited to work during the wintertime

(because of their acclimatisation to the heat) and that they tended to frequently argue amongst

themselves (Harris, 1993, p.22). At this time, the West Indian colonies were overpopulated,

and the colonies were putting pressure on the government to recruit labour from the islands.

9 It is important to note that whilst the Windrush generation is known to be the first-generation of significant migration from the Caribbean to Britain, there is evidence of people of African descent living on the British Isles since the year 253-8 (Fryer and Peter, 2010, 1.Africans in Britain). 10According to the Home Office, ‘All citizens of the commonwealth countries were collectively referred to as “British subjects” until January 1983’ (Home Office, 2019).

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Despite the efforts of both the Colonial Office and the Ministry of Labour at the time, in 1948

the SS Empire Windrush arrived in Tilbury Docks on June the 22nd in London. Neither the

Jamaican nor the British Government had any legal right to stop the migration of Caribbean

people to Britain since the 1948 Nationality Act allowed British subjects in the colonies to

enter the United Kingdom and live there permanently. Having failed to convince those on the

island otherwise, this was somewhat of an embarrassing moment for the government who

reluctantly had to assist with accommodation and finding jobs for these British passport

holders (James and Harris, 1993; Cavendish, 1998; Fryer and Peter, 2010). There were 492

hopeful Jamaicans (many of whom were ex-personnel) aboard the ship, but it is reported that

there were also some stowaways, taking the total to 500 (Cavendish, 1998). Caribbean

migration was received as a threat by the British Government and people. On the day that the

SS Empire Windrush was due to reach British soil in 1948, eleven Labour MPS co-wrote a

letter to the then Prime Minister Clement Attlee expressing their fears of ‘discord’ and

‘unhappiness’ for both the Jamaicans arriving and the indigenous British residents amongst

whom they would be living (Murry et.al 1948 cited in Harris, 1993, p.25). At this point,

Britain was a predominantly white society, despite there being a small number of growing

African, Caribbean and Asian communities (Fryer and Peter, 2010). However, the prospect of

an influx of non-white others into British society caused social anxiety and fear amongst the

dominant population. This fear was expressed by both the population and the government

who felt that the introduction of these ‘others’ into an otherwise harmonious society would

cause serious disruption (Harris, 1993, p.25).

The West Indians that were arriving in the Mother Country were strategically placed at this

time into industrial work such as in textiles and transport. These were the areas of work that

indigenous Britons were leaving. In other words, they took the jobs that no one else wanted

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and as a consequence, tensions between the indigenous communities and the others increased

as West Indians moved into these areas of work.

The fifties and sixties saw the West-Indian community becoming more established in Britain,

and with that came the culture and their music. Both the 1951 Festival of Britain and the 1953

Coronation saw performances that included Caribbean culture. This was the new

‘cosmopolitan Britain and put London at the heart of its new multicultural demographic’

(Gilroy, 2007, p.104). British Caribbean Diasporic identities were still very much at their

infancy at this point, with the majority still identifying as West Indian and still having a

strong connection to their families and communities back home. There was, however, a

growing strength throughout the ethno-local communities in England.

Whilst there was this spirit of rebirth and renewal in Britain (Gilroy, 2007, p.140), it would

be naive to assume race relations had improved since the arrival of West Indians at Tilbury

Docks in 1948; in fact, a Colour Bar operated in many public spaces preventing ‘Blacks, Irish

and dogs’ from finding appropriate residence easily. Racial tensions continued to rise during

the fifties and organisations such as Keep Britain White, and the White Defence League

began to hold public rallies promoting violence against the ‘colour invasion of Britain’

(Gilroy, 2007, pp.111–112).

The earlier West Indians entering the UK would experience double consciousness, as they

negotiated the rebirth and renewal found in a slowly establishing British Caribbean Diasporic

identity, and the hostility of race relations felt through systems such as the Colour Bar. The

experience of double consciousness is a theoretical characteristic of British Caribbean

Diasporic identities that this research is interested in. Next, this section will briefly introduce

double consciousness.

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The notion of double consciousness was initially explored by W.E.B Du Bois (1903) in his

book The Soul of Black Folk. Du Bois pours out his innermost thoughts of what it means to

be Black and an American,

[…] A world which yields himself no true self-consciousness, this sense of

always looking at one’s self through the eyes of others, of measuring one’s

soul by the tape of a world that looks on in contempt and pity. One ever

feels his twoness- an American, a negro, two souls, two thoughts, two

unreconciled strivings, two warring ideals one dark body, whose dogged

strength alone keeps it from being torn asunder

(Du Bois, 1903, p.5)

Du Bois introduces the concept of double consciousness in the first chapter of The Soul of

Black Folk. In his later writings, he does not refer to it explicitly again, only making implicit

references to the concept in his fictional work (Du Bois, 1976; Du Bois, 1984). In his brief

explanation of double consciousness Du Bois captures the ‘two strivings’ of not just the

‘American Negro’ but, as Gilroy suggests, he ‘illuminates the experience of post-slave

populations in general’ (Gilroy, 1993, p.126) when he articulates the historical impact of

holding two cultures/identities within one ‘soul’ (Du Bois, 1903, p.5). The concept of

doubleness or double consciousness has been utilised across academic fields and across the

diaspora to characterise the subjective experiences of diasporic people across the globe. Du

Bois describes doubleness within the historical context of African Americans,

The history of the American Negro is the history of this strife- this longing

to attain self-conscious manhood, to merge his double self into a better

truer self. In this merging he wishes neither of the older selves to be lost.

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He would not Africanize America, for America has too much to teach the

world and Africa, He would not bleach his Negro soul in a flood of white

Americanism, for he knows that the Negro blood has a message for the

world. He simply wishes to make it possible for a man to be both a Negro

and an American, without being cursed and spit upon by his fellows,

without having the doors of opportunity, closed roughly in his face.

(Du Bois, 1903, pp.5–6)

Du Bois’ articulations around the African American experience has been particularly helpful

to Paul Gilroy (1993) who uses the concept of double consciousness to build his theory of the

Black Atlantic and its relation to the discourse of modernity. Gilroy identifies the experience

of doubleness as what is produced from the ‘unique position’ that those who were enslaved

were forced into. The ‘terror’ of slavery and colonialism ‘pitted’ their artistic production

against the ‘modern conditions in which their oppression appeared’ (Gilroy, 1993, p.58)

resulted in an ‘ungenteel modernity’ that was ‘decentred’ from ‘Metropolitan Europe’

(Gilroy, 1993, p.58). Gilroy recognises the ‘preoccupation’ with doubleness as characteristic

of the ‘intellectual history of the [B]lack Atlantic’ (Gilroy, 1993, p.58).

Gilroy proposes the Black Atlantic as an alternative singular complex unit of analysis of the

modern world (Gilroy, 1993, p.15) in which double consciousness is held. In this model,

British Caribbean Diasporic identities transcend boundaries of nation and ethnicity and allow

for the re-examining of ‘historical memory’ (Gilroy, 1993, p.16) beyond these borders.

Whilst Gilroy’s use of double consciousness and conceptualisation of the Black Atlantic are

particularly helpful when considering how practices of rooting span transnationally, Harry

Goulbourne (2002) suggests that our focus should not be on double consciousness, but rather

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on incorporation. Goulbourne contests that doubleness is not an experience particular to those

who find their heritage in Africa or the Diaspora and are living in the West (Goulbourne,

2002, p.19) citing the histories of the Irish, Jewish and the French across the world as

examples of where double consciousness may also be prevalent. He instead positions the way

in which British Caribbean Diasporic people have been integrated into society as more

revealing of the future of the community and any other community that has been introduced

to another (Goulbourne, 2002, p.19).

Whilst I agree that experiencing double consciousness is not explicit to African and African

Diasporic identities that are living in the West, when considering British Caribbean Diasporic

identities there is something to be understood about how embodying and negotiating double

consciousness affects individual identities. This of course will be affected by the processes of

incorporation experienced, as Goulbourne recognises. For example, in his writings, Frantz

Fanon (1967) identifies himself as experiencing a third-person consciousness, ‘I was given

not one, but two, three places…. I existed triply… I was responsible at the same time for my

body, my race, for my ancestors’ (Fanon, 1967, p.112). Through this recognition, Fanon

negotiates how he might relate to this consciousness, ‘I wanted to be a man, nothing but a

man. Some identified me with ancestors of mine who had been enslaved or lynched: I

decided to accept this […]’ (Fanon, 1967, p.113).

Within the British context, C.L R James (1984) in his reflection of racial consciousness in

Britain concludes by emphasising the value that listening to those who are experiencing

double consciousness has for our society,

They will be intimately related to British people, but they cannot be fully

part of the English environment because they are black. Everyone,

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including their parents is aware that they are different. Now that is not a

negative statement […] those people who are in Western civilisation, who

have grown up in it but yet are not completely apart (made to feel and

themselves feeling that they are outside) have a unique insight into their

society […] what such persons have to say, therefore will give a new

vision, a deeper insight into both Western civilisation and the black people

in it

(James, 1984, p.55)

In considering how the case study artists within this research experience and negotiate double

consciousness through the research’s key concept of practices of rooting, the thesis seeks to

gain what James predicts to be a deeper insight into ‘black people’- specifically British

Caribbean Diasporic people- and the identities they hold. Double consciousness will be

explored further in chapter seven.

During the late 1950s, racial tensions reached a climax resulting in the Notting Hill and

Nottingham riots in 1958, and the murder of Kelso Benjamin Cochrane in 1959. Claudia

Jones, a journalist and activist with others, organised what is now known as Notting Hill

Carnival in January 1959 as a way of resisting the racial oppression being experienced by

Caribbean people and other Black ethnicities. Jones stated that this Carnival was to be a bold

statement that would, ‘wash the taste of Notting Hill and Nottingham out of our mouths’

(Hinds, 2008, p.92). Caribbean people at the time wanted to resist the racism they were

experiencing the way they knew best, through music and dance. Through his conception of

sonic dominance, Julian Henriques (2003) asserts that Reggae sound systems like the ones

present during Notting Hill Carnival are a ‘highly elaborated and social apparatus’

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(Henriques, 2003, p.452) the sound played during events such as carnival ‘connects people’

(Henriques, 2003, p.452) and ‘draws them together’ (Henriques, 2003, p.452). Concluding

his paper, Henriques states that ‘[b]oth material and ethereal aspects of sound evidently and

intimately connect us to our body’ (Henriques, 2003, p.453), in this way it is possible to see

how sonic dominance within cultural activities such as Notting Hill Carnival, brings British

Caribbean Diasporic people back to themselves and to their bodies. Henriques’ conception of

sonic dominance will be discussed further in chapter nine in relation to how the case study

artists of this research use sound to connect with the audience. Notting Hill is a symbol of

resistance within the British Caribbean Diasporic community which is another theoretical

characteristic of British Caribbean Diasporic identities that is present within the case study

artists’ work. This section will now briefly introduce resistance.

Through the development and formation of British Caribbean Diasporic identities, political

and cultural resistance has been prevalent. As the community from the Caribbean continued

to arrive on British soil, so did institutional systems of oppression derived from a racist gaze

and a colonial plantation system. This has been felt in disproportionate wage gaps,

harassment by the police, mental health problems and poverty. Through the research process,

it has become evident that resistance within British Caribbean Diasporic communities is

nuanced, manifesting through both intentional acts against the dominant culture and

oppressive systems, and as an assigned characterisation of actions taken by British Caribbean

Diasporic individuals and the community that do not align with the values/ideals of the

dominant culture. This is seen, for example, in the wearing of an Afro hairstyle. Thich Nhaht

Hahn (2001) considers the ‘purpose of resistance’ (Hahn, 2001, p.129) as being the seeking

of healing within oneself to be able to see clearly (Hahn, 2001, p.129), and so resistance is

the ‘opposite to being invaded, occupied, assaulted and destroyed by the system’ (Hahn,

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2001, p.129). In this way, Hahn sees resistance as being ‘places where people can return to

themselves more easily, where the conditions are such that they can heal themselves and

recover their wholeness’ (Hahn, 2001, p.129). Through its development, the British

Caribbean Diasporic community has subverted their socio-political and economic realities

through the engagement of cultural expressions (aesthetics) which simultaneously become

sites of resistance, these cultural expressions (aesthetics) include, dress, language, dance and

music, which are all routed through the historical subversion of their ancestors. Engaging

with these cultural expressions (aesthetics) presents opportunities for healing, as Hahn

recognises. Events such as Carnival are counter sites where there is an embodiment of

pleasure and joy in the face of violence and trauma. British Caribbean Diasporic communities

resist oppression and marginalisation through the creation of spaces which subvert

‘hegemonic social meanings and power relationships’ (Haenfler, 2014, p.44) resisting the

systems of the dominant culture. In addition to this, British Caribbean Diasporic people in

Britain have also engaged in acts of resistance against their marginalisation through

community organisation, activism, protests, and rioting. Through the production and

participation in these subversive spaces, the British Caribbean Diasporic community

designates spaces in which its members can both physically and psychologically take agency

over their bodies (Henriques, 2003, p.453), empowering them to cultivate their collective and

individual voices. In this way, these sites become communal practices of rooting in which

shared struggle and history come together with activities such as carnivals and serve as

moments of affirmation and creation of identity. Chapter nine will further explore the multi-

layered nature of resistance in the work of the case study artist in this research.

The sixties saw an increase in visibility of this community through popular music and dance

culture. A cultural exchange began to occur across primary and secondary diasporas, between

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Britain, the United States, and the Caribbean. Rhythm and Blues from the United States, Pop,

and Folk were all prominent at this time (Spencer, 2011). Paul Gilroy classifies this decade as

an ‘era of firsts’ (Gilroy, 2007, p.191) with Caribbean people making significant progress in

positions of power within society. In 1965 the first black chairman of the Labour Party in

Handsworth was appointed, and in 1968 we see London’s first Black Policeman PC Gumbs.

The first Black traffic wardens and the first Black publican were also appointed during this

decade.

The seventies were a crucial decade in which there was a sharp rise in mistrust of the police

from African and Caribbean communities. There was a campaign by the British Police to

harass community gatherings, and they were overly suspicious of African and Caribbean

people. This was made evident in the refusal to give those of African or Caribbean heritage

protection against racial violence, the raiding of black youth clubs, high police concentration

in black localities, the treatment of victims as aggressors, the use of unnecessary violence,

arbitrary arrests, and the overmanning of social events (Fryer, 1984, p.393). This was

perpetuated further by the media who posed the settlement of African and Caribbean

communities as a problem. This atmosphere came to a head in 1976 at the Notting Hill

Carnival, which ended in riots.

It is in the 1970s that we begin to see the development of British Caribbean Diasporic

identities. Different to their parents who had arrived in Britain during the fifties and sixties,

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the children of the “Windrush generation” did not identify as West Indians. Instead, these

children became known as Black British11.

The Black British community is constituted of African, African Diasporic, Caribbean, and

other hyphenated identities who are racialised as black (including mixed-heritage identities)

and are settled in Britain. This, of course, includes West Indian communities and the

subsequent generations of families that have been born. Approximately thirty years after the

Windrush generation arrived in Britain, there was an increase in migration from African

countries (Olutoye, 2018). Historically, the relationship between the Caribbean and African

communities in Britain has been fraught (this is still evident today with #diasporawars12). As

a child, during frequent slanging matches with my cousins and sister, being called an African

would be a punch that was hard to come back from. It was insulting, although we did not

know why. Olutoye (2018) puts the tension between the two communities down to the

colonial histories of our past in which false narratives played a part in keeping discord

amongst Caribbean people and Africans (Olutoye, 2018). When I refer to Black British in this

thesis, I am referring to the broader community that British Caribbean Diasporic people

belong to.

11 During the eighties, the notion of political blackness was developed. Tariq Modood (1994) explains that sociologists were at the forefront of this concept (Modood, 1994, p.860). Political blackness saw those from African, Caribbean, and Asian heritages be classed within one hegemonic group. The adoption of the term did not stand up to criticism and was therefore abandoned (Ali 1991 cited in Modood, 1994, p.860) see also: Andrews, 2016; Ambikaipaker, 2018. 12 A conversation thread on twitter, which sees African Americans, Black British, Caribbean and African people debate about cultural issues, identity and belonging.

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In the forming of British Caribbean Diasporic identities, this generation positioned

themselves away from the heritage of their Caribbean parents and more intentionally aligned

with ‘Britishness’. Barry Troyna (1979) notes ‘… their commitment to blackness is by no

means even. Nevertheless, as an aggregate, it is no doubt true that the vast majority consider

themselves to be black and belonging to an oppressed minority within British Society’

(James, 1993, p.251). Sam Beaver King, the first mayor of Caribbean heritage for Southwark

and campaigner for the West Indian community in Britain commented on the British

Caribbean Diasporic generation saying, ‘I think the only difference between the people on the

Windrush and our children is this: we came asking for our rights, [and] they are going to

demand them’ (King 1968 cited in James, 1993, p.251).

My mother told me,

When we first knew that we would be going to England, everyone was

excited, the whole town was excited for us. The clothes that we would be

wearing, the preparation. Even now when I go to Jamaica people talk

about the trip. They remember me going away. They remember going to

the airport...

We arrived at Manchester Airport and for us it was cold. I remember Mum

coming along with Uncle Dalfy, I remember she bought us jumpers. I

remember everything as being exotic, you know everything was different,

seeing white people.

(Knight, 2018)

At ten years old in 1973, my mother Pamela Patricia Knight along with her sister Carmen

Knight who was twelve arrived in Manchester before travelling to Preston’s Mercy Street,

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which was to be their new home. My mother’s generation represents the new generation of

Caribbean people who were coming over to Britain to join their parents who had come to

prepare a home for them. Many of these children were left on the Caribbean islands to be

bought up by grandparents, aunts, uncles, and older siblings, whilst their parents worked hard

to earn money to bring them to Britain.

The newly forming British Caribbean Diasporic generation were the most affected by the

economic crisis of the 1970s, ‘between 1973-1976 the unemployment rate went up twice as

steeply for black people as it did for the population as a whole’ (Goulbourne cited in Fryer,

1984, p.388). This climate meant young black workers had to work twice as hard to get jobs

that they received half the wage for in comparison to their white counterparts. This new

generation became more marginalised as they were vilified in society as troublemakers and

criminals, this perception strengthened the Black church, club and underground communities.

At the same time of this marginalisation, there was a rise of Garveyism, Rastafarianism and

Pan-Africanism amongst the British Caribbean Diasporic community (Gilroy, 2007, pp.226–

227).

The rise in the adoption of Rastafarianism and Pan-Africanism in Britain is reflective of the

Afrocentric or more specifically Caribcentric perspective that is present within British

Caribbean Diasporic identities. Whilst both Afrocentricity and Caribcentricity position

themselves against Eurocentricity; it is necessary to make a distinction between them.

Afrocentrism is a political and cultural movement that is dedicated to re-centring the

historical narrative which under the oppression of Eurocentricity has experienced erasure.

First used by Du Bois in the 1960s it was reinvigorated by Molefi Kete Asante in 1980 who

saw the purpose of Afrocentricity as a ‘frame of reference wherein phenomena are viewed

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from the perspective of the African person. The Afrocentric approach seeks in every situation

the appropriate centrality of the African person’ (Asante, 1980, p.172).

The notion of a Caribcentric perspective is a theoretical characteristic of British Caribbean

Diasporic identities that is present within this research. In a similar way to Afrocentricity,

Caribcentricity centres the creolised Caribbean experience over the dominant European

systems that have overshadowed the islands. In the British Caribbean Diasporic sense, this

notion slightly shifts as creolised Caribbean identities reencounter British identities.

Caribcentricity allows for the centring of histories, heritages, and experiences of British

Caribbean Diasporic people in Britain who as British Citizens straddle the position of

simultaneous belonging and being othered daily. The rise of Rastafarianism amongst British

Caribbean Diasporic people in the 1970s within the UK is an example of a Caribcentric

philosophical and religious ideology being adopted in order to centre the experiences of

British Caribbean Diasporic communities, create connections back to the Caribbean through

the ethno-national universal communities (Premdas 2011), the Black Atlantic (Gilroy 1993),

and resist the Western ideologies of their environment.

During the seventies and eighties, a strong music and dance culture came out of Black British

communities. This culture was received as cool by the young white generation and eventually

infiltrated mainstream music. Whilst there was a high level of imitation within this

generation, the young white generation often remained deeply hostile to those who had

fashioned these racial subcultures. The hostility towards this younger British Caribbean

Diasporic (and the wider Black British) generation was especially demonstrated by the

behaviour of the police.

My mum explained to me,

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There are lots of different scenes. So, you had the Soul scene, and you had

the Reggae scene. There is a lot of difference between… and historically

the legacy of that in people. Like if you look at Carmen and you look at

me, I was the Soul head. We used to be called Soul heads. Me and Lloyd

[brother] were Soul heads. We liked Jazz Funk, we like Soul music, we

used to go to the clubs. It was a big scene Tia; those scenes were huge. We

used to travel on coaches to do all-nighters and weekenders.

But Carmen was on the Reggae scene, so their scene was very much a

Black Power scene. So, a lot of them were Rastafarian. Carmen and

Donald [brother] were Rastas. Donald had a band called the Young

Conquerors he was the lead singer. Carmen used to have her hair wrapped,

she was a sistren. But me and Lloyd were on the other side. We were

Funksters. Even now if we go out and we are dancing these lot will always

say “Oh, you guys are the Funksters, you guys are the Soul heads”. You

can see the difference in the type of music that we listen to. The legacy is

still there, I can still see that now.

Culturally Carmen and that lot grew up being very connected to their

Jamaican identity, perhaps a bit more connected to their Jamaican identity

than even I am. So, my Jamaican identity probably isn’t as strong as theirs

because of the scene that they followed when they were growing up

(Knight, 2018)

Identity continued to be a place of negotiation for the new generation of Caribbean children

who had grown up in a divided Britain marked by the National Fronts slogan of the time,

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‘There ain't no Black in the Union Jack’. Racism made it impossible for this new generation

to integrate into mainstream British identity. Instead, at the margins of British society, a new

culture emerged and began to develop. This new generation would have their own walk,

language, and dance culture. Soul, Reggae and R&B were popular new hybrid forms specific

to the British Caribbean Diasporic experience which made connections across the Black

Atlantic to the Caribbean and African American culture in the USA. Lovers Rock is an

example of the new sounds that this community was producing. In his book Black Britain, A

Photographic History Paul Gilroy speaks about being part of, as he puts it, this lucky

generation, ‘an unusually eloquent, militant and musically rich culture orientated us as slave-

descendants, as diaspora subjects, as world citizens’ (Gilroy, 2007, p.248). Gilroy talks of the

independent power of dance and music to gather and create community, exemplified in the

Notting Hill Carnival, he speaks of its ‘potency’ and the liberatory sounds, which Gilroy does

not feel is replicated in today’s black popular culture (Gilroy, 2007, p.257).

By the end of the eighties, there was a shift away from Pan-Africanism and Rastafarianism,

and instead, we see American Hip-Hop and Jamaican Ragga music rise to popularity. Music

groups such as Soul II Soul, a collective born out of a London sound system, rose to fame.

Soul II Soul is exemplary of the creolised expressions that were forming through those with

British Caribbean Diasporic identities at the time. With a musical sound that used Reggae,

Hip-Hop and an electronic sound Soul II Soul were like nothing that had come before them,

their sound was representative of the British Caribbean Diasporic experience.

The Greater London Council (GLC) had a significant effect on the black community in the

city at this time. The GLC was able to identify the disadvantaged communities in the city and

take positive action to bring resources and support to them. Using the money from the city,

the GLC encouraged and assisted women’s groups, Black and ethnic minority groups, and

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LGBTQ+ groups. This ‘opened up a whole new world’ for them (Sir Herman Ouseley cited

in Phillips and Phillips, 1998, p.372). Trevor and Mike Philips (1998) recognise several

important aspects of the Greater London Council in relation to the black community; this

included the GLC using “black culture” as a way of defining black identity, this led to the

privileging of ‘black’ music, dance and other artistic expressions. The GLC also recognised

the importance of the diasporic connection across the Black Atlantic to the United States, the

Caribbean, and Africa, and invited prominent authority figures to help solidify this

connection of identifying transnationally and interculturally. The GLC was eventually

abolished by Margret Thatcher’s government in 1985 who opposed its policies and politics;

this was viewed as a blow to the Black community (Phillips and Phillips, 1998, p.377).

The country continued to see race riots during the mid to late eighties in Handsworth, Broad

Water Farm, Dewsbury and Brixton. These riots caused a significant increase in government

anti-racist initiatives at a local level. The initiatives allowed Black British MPs to be accepted

into seats at a governmental level in 1987, even if it did seem tokenistic, it opened a door

which was once closed (Gilroy, 2007, p.270).

By the beginning of the nineties, the effect of British Caribbean culture on mainstream

culture was evident. There began to be a presence of those of African and Caribbean heritage

on our television screens daily, comedians such as Lenny Henry, sports stars, and actors.

Despite this seeming acceptance into the mainstream, those of African and Caribbean

heritage along with those classified as black politically still struggled to create economic

stability and were in fact amongst the most vulnerable social groups economically (Phillips

and Phillips, 1998, p.393). Whilst popular culture might have led one to believe that the

multicultural experiment was a success in the nineties, racism and institutional racism still

plagued the country, this was made apparent with the murder of 18-year-old Stephen

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Lawrence in 1993. It took Metropolitan Police Service twenty years to bring just two of the

suspected perpetrators to justice.

Growing up in southeast England during the nineties, I experienced two different worlds. The

world of my family and the world of my environment. Being the only brown-skinned child in

school and friendship groups gave me an awareness that I have only recognised in reflection.

I always looked forward to Christmas. All my family would gather at my Auntie Carmen’s

house in Lewisham. Reggae and carols would blast over the speaker system. Rice and peas,

roast potatoes, rum-soaked fruit cake and trifle would be devoured. I always felt more

comfortable in this space because there was nothing to overthink. My family looked like me

and understood where I was coming from. Although my accent made me stand out, there was

an acceptance that I did not readily experience back in Essex.

In 1997 New Labour come to power in the UK, four new non-white MPs were elected, and a

further five Black and Asian representatives were appointed in the house of Lords, this was

reflective of Tony Blair’s campaign commitment to increasing the representations of

minorities within the system (Phillips and Phillips, 1998, p.393). In 1999 a public inquiry into

the Stephen Lawrence murder found that the Metropolitan police were institutionally racist,

and that vast failure had affected the efforts of identifying Stephen Lawrence’s murders

sooner. A total of seventy recommendations for reform were made to the service

(Macpherson, 1999).

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The new millennium was the era in which I came of age and the era that I remember most.

The noughties saw a further establishment of Black British culture13. New music styles came

out of the inner cities of Britain Grime, Dubstep, Bassline and Funky House all hit the scene

within the first few years of the noughties. The MOBO Awards (Music of Black Origin) were

formed in 1996 establishing a platform for Black British musicians to be recognised on their

own terms. Mainstream media also recognised that space was needed for the Black British

community to be able to hear their own voices, music, news, and issues being aired in

relation to wider society. The BBC led with this launching BBC 1Xtra radio station in 2002.

Films like Kidulthood (2006) represented a new generation wanting to artistically express

their experiences through music and film.

The cultural aesthetics that were being produced by Black British communities are indicative

of Homi Bhabha’s (1994) notion Third Space. Existing in the intervening space that exists

‘in-between’ (Bhabha, 1994, p.38) the expression of two cultures, the Third Space acts as a

space of negotiation in which neither one cultural expression nor the other remains, and a

new hybrid space develops (Bhabha, 1994, p.4). As cultural expressive aesthetics form within

these communities they exist somewhere between cultures. The Third Space becomes an

ambivalent space of interstice which goes beyond the conflicts of binaries, into a place of

seeming reconciliation. The interruption of interpretation caused by what is produced in the

in-between dismantles our current knowledge of cultural systems, of hierarchies and value

and instead manifests as ‘beyond’ (Bhabha, 1994, pp.36–39), to an ambivalent space of

13 Here, I am talking about the wider Black British identity, which includes the British Caribbean Diasporic community and African Diasporic communities.

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enunciation where ‘meanings and symbols of culture have no primordial unity or fixity’ and

can be ‘appropriate[d], translate[d], rehistoricised and read anew’ (Bhabha, 1994, p.37).

Inhabiting the beyond allows those who are encountering it to experience ‘newness’ as they

‘touch the future on its hither side’(Bhabha, 1994, p.7) through the creation of new cultures

and cultural expressions. This is borderline work; it occurs on the very edge of cultural

binaries, creating new significations of performativity within identity. When looking at the

cultural expressions (aesthetics) of the British Caribbean Diasporic community, we see there

is an entanglement to these cultural expressions (aesthetics) which is reflective of

creolisation, this is more complex than the hybridity Bhabha is speaking of here. The notion

of Third Space and Bhabha ideas will be used in the development of the second key concept

of the research “performative becoming” in chapter four.

In 2001, Stop and Search statistics showed that you were five times more likely to be stopped

if you were black compared to white. This pattern continued to escalate in this decade and

became a part of the status quo, especially for young men in the Black British Community. In

2006 the Mitchell Brothers released the Grime track Routine Check14, this song (featuring

grime star Kano and the white rapper Mike Skinner from The Streets) specifically addressed

how the police target young black youths. The Mitchells rap, “What do you mean routine

check? I didn’t take this route to be checked, sounds like you routinely check any youths in

jeans and creps” (trainers). Mike Skinner acknowledges the privilege of his whiteness,

rapping, “oi oi I don’t get many checks these days, but these bros are not the same” these bros

referring to the black Mitchell brothers on the track. The awareness that is demonstrated

14 Written by Kofi Hanson, Mike Skinner, Owura Nyanin and Kane Brett Robinson in 2004

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through the lyrics of Mitchell brothers, Kano and Skinner are reflective of the hostility of the

police towards the wider Black British community.

In 2010, an international report by the London School of Economics and the Open Society

Justice Initiative found that those of African and African Diasporic heritage were twenty-six

times more likely to be stopped and searched than their white counterparts (Townsend, 2010).

In addition to the troubles with the police, the Black British community saw a rising problem

with knife crime. If you were young and Black or Asian living in an inner-city area, you were

far more likely to be a victim of knife crime. The millennium began with the horrific murder

of Damilola Taylor in 2000, and by 2005 there was an increase in children carrying knives to

school. It was found that these children were not usually gang members, but more likely to be

carrying a knife for protection. In 2007, Tony Blair blamed the increase in knife crime on

‘black culture’. He attributed knife crime to young Black people, which was met by anger

from community leaders who ‘accused him of ignorance and failing to provide support for

black-led efforts to tackle the problem’ (Wintour and Dodd, 2007). These remarks

contradicted the Home Office Minister, Lady Patricia Scotland (one of the very few Black

peers), who told the home affairs select committee at the time that the ‘disproportionate

number of black youths in the criminal justice system was a function of their disproportionate

poverty, and not to do with a distinctive black culture’ (Wintour and Dodd, 2007).

By 2010, the efforts of the 1995 Race for Opportunities organisation was proving to make

some headway with a rise in ethnic minorities at universities. The children of the ‘new

generation’ began to come of age and have children of their own. The Caribbean community

were now a part of British society having mixed and integrated with inter-ethnic relationships

being at its highest in the 2011 census (Office for National Statistics, n.d.). However, despite

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the seemingly progressive environment, there were still profoundly rooted institutional issues

and a general shift of public opinion to the right throughout the West.

The 2010s began with the police shooting of Mark Duggan, which sparked five days of

rioting throughout English cities. Race-relations at this time had deteriorated, and there was a

severe mistrust of the police from Black and Asian communities. Saci Lloyd (2011) writing

in the Guardian at the time wrote, ‘young people have no right to riot, but they have a right to

be angry’ (Lloyd, 2011). The financial crash in 2008 and the decision of the 2010 coalition

government meant that the Education Maintenance Allowance was scrapped, many youth

centres and initiatives were closed, university fees were tripled, and places cut. In 2016 the

UK voted to leave the European Union, after the vote Britain saw 100% rise in hate crime

and racist attacks, with one in three Black Asian or Minority Ethnic (BAME15) individuals

experiencing hate crimes since the vote (Weaver, 2018).

In 2012 Theresa May the then Home Secretary announced that she aimed to create a “hostile

environment” for illegal immigration. However, the 2014 Immigration Act had rampant

ramifications for the British Caribbean Diasporic community and those that came into Britain

in the late forties and fifties. As referenced to in section 2.1.3 of this chapter, efforts in 2018

by MP David Lammy, Journalist Amelia Gentleman, and others exposed how the

Conservative government’s immigration policies had led to the deportation, the loss of

employment, confiscation of passports, and the refusal to free access to healthcare of mainly

British Caribbean Diasporic citizens who, due to the policies were declared as illegal

15 A term widely used throughout government departments in Britain.

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immigrants. This caused questioning for those with British Caribbean Diasporic identities as

the effect was not only felt by those who arrived in Britain in the forties, fifties, and sixties

but by their children and grandchildren. My own family were also caught up in this Scandal.

As the great/grandchildren of African and West Indian migrants have grown, there has been

progressive unity within the wider Black British community. These children grew up to

identify further with Black Britishness, encountering similar experiences whilst navigating

racism and oppressive systems in Britain. Olutoye (2018) identifies the Windrush Scandal as

being an event that has brought unity within the Black British community (Olutoye, 2018),

which remains vulnerable in society.

Despite the environment, there has been a movement within Black British communities to tell

their own stories through art media and political movements. The increased unity amongst the

Black British community has resulted in new cultural expressions that are reflective of both

African and Caribbean cultures through the Black British experience. This is evident for

example, in the music genre Afrobashment which sees rapping with African intonation over

dancehall riddims (Adegoke, 2018) and sees artists such as J Hus who use both English, West

African and Jamaican dialects within their music to create a ‘multilingual landscape of vocal

styles’ (Ben-Edigbe, 2016). Adegoke states that the ‘essence of Black British music’ is in the

‘blending and bleeding of sounds across class and cultures’ (Adegoke, 2018). This positions

the British Caribbean Diasporic production of cultural expression away from the hybridity

that Bhabha (2004) suggests, and towards creolisation. These identities subsume and

negotiate amongst many different cultures, some that they have inherited, others that they

align to, and those that they have been brought up in. These new cultural aesthetics challenge

what Deborah Thomas recognises as the trope of ‘black vernacular culture […] constantly

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sampling from the past to create something new’ (Thomas, 2004, p.231) and are instead

informed by cultures across contemporary cultural expressions across the Black Atlantic.

In 2015, Black Lives Matter UK formed, and we also saw the growth of the natural hair

movement (a global movement that embraces the natural hair of African and African

Diasporic people and rejects Eurocentric hair ideals). In addition to this, several independent

online news sites and online magazines were created. Sites such as Galdem, Black Ballad,

Media Diversified, and Shades of Noir are alternative outlets of news that puts black and

other ethnic minorities voices at the forefront. In 2019 those with British Caribbean Diasporic

identities have become more visible and socially mobile than ever. The rise in the use of

social media and the internet communities sees the British Caribbean Diasporic community,

despite their oppression, engage with each other across the Black Atlantic, creating fervent

connections to the Caribbean islands and across the Black Atlantic.

This section has presented a historical overview of British Caribbean Diasporic identities, and

the wider Black British community that it belongs to in Britain. In doing this the chapter has

outlined the context in which British Caribbean Diasporic identities are forming, this

information will be poignant in chapters five to eight as the research analyses and discusses

the choreographic work of the case study artists. This section has also introduced the

theoretical characteristics of British Caribbean Diasporic identities namely resistance,

Caribcentric and double consciousness that this research is interested in.

2.3 Conclusion

This chapter has given the context of British Caribbean Diasporic identities and has

demonstrated the complexity and multiplicitous nature of them. Understanding British

Caribbean Diasporic identities in this way aids comprehension of what identities are rooting

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when we are considering the case study artists (more in chapter four and nine). This chapter

has offered the research’s open definition of British Caribbean Diasporic identities. In doing

this it has located characteristics of British Caribbean Diasporic identities through British,

Caribbean, and Diasporic identities. The intention of locating these characteristics is not to

anchor these identities definitively, therefore, British Caribbean Diasporic people can (of

course) exist outside of and in-between these characteristics. The chapter has also outlined

the history of British Caribbean Diasporic identities. Crucially, through this history, the

chapter has introduced the theoretical characteristics (resistance, Caribcentric and double

consciousness) that will be used to consider the practices of rooting and spaces of

performative becoming of the case study artists in chapter nine.

The next chapter will give a brief historical overview of British Caribbean Diasporic

identities in dance from the colonies until today through a Caribcentric framing. It will

consider the role dance has played in developing British Caribbean Diasporic identities.

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Chapter 3: Dance and British Caribbean Diasporic Identities

Having established the history and formation of British Caribbean Diasporic identities in the

previous chapter, this chapter will contextualise the choreographic practices of British

Caribbean Diasporic artists through a broad historical overview of dance and a Caribcentric

framing. As a consequence of this aim, this chapter will have a historical rather than a

conceptual focus. I am aware there are many players through which this history can be told

(see: Ramdhanie, 2005; Adewole, 2017; Adair and Burt, 2017a). This chapter, however,

focuses on outlining the histories that are implicated within this research and placing the case

study artists within both Caribbean and British contexts in preparation for the conceptual

detail (chapter four) and analysis (chapters five to nine) that follows. Journeying from dance

in the Caribbean to 21st century British Caribbean Diasporic choreography, the chapter

begins by looking at Dance in Caribbean contact zones (section 3.1), before going onto

overview dance during the Windrush era- the 1940s-1970s (section 3.2), then, what this

research identifies as the first-generation of British Caribbean Diasporic artists -the 1970s-

1990s (section 3.3) and finally the second-generation of British Caribbean Diasporic artists-

the 1990s-2019 (section 3.4).

In introducing the case study artists of this research- H Patten, Greta Mendez, Jamila

Johnson-Small and Akeim Toussaint Buck16 (these introductions will be in italics) this

chapter creates a narrative that makes sense of a Caribcentric framing of British Caribbean

16 The introduction to these case studies is available in Appendix A for reference

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Diasporic dance history. The chapter does this whilst recognising that no artist, person, or

Caribbean culture in Britain can be reduced to this narrative. The narrative this chapter forms

gives context to the analysis of the choreographed movement this research will offer in

chapter nine through its concepts of practices of rooting and spaces of performative

becoming. In addition to this, the chapter makes connections between the concepts around

British Caribbean Diasporic identities in the previous chapter and the dance history that this

chapter is concerned with. These connections build a foundation through which we can

understand how movement has been used to (re)create identities through British Caribbean

Diasporic history, and therefore consider how these connections work within the

choreography of the case study artists in chapters five to eight.

It is important to note that the volatile histories of British Caribbean Diasporic people has

resulted in little to no documentation of dance practices on the colonies and during the

Windrush era, and therefore retelling these histories is notoriously difficult, (see: Adewole et

al., 2007, p.12; Adair and Burt, 2017, p.2). However, as the community has become more

established in Britain, and technology has become cheaper and more accessible, there has

been some archival work that this research can refer to. As a result of this, each period of

history that this chapter gives an overview of takes an approach to history and dance that is

appropriate for that era. This approach will be explained during the introduction of each

section.

3.1 Dancing in Caribbean Contact Zones

In the previous chapter, we briefly discussed Mary Pratt’s (1992) notion of ‘contact zones’

(Pratt, 1992, p.6). Pratt uses this term to subvert the implication of power dynamics of the

word colonies or ‘colonial land’ (Pratt, 1992, p.6), and force the reimagining of the spaces in

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which European colonial leaders and enslaved Africans met on the land of the Indigenous

people, as a space of ‘copresence and interaction’ (Pratt, 1992, p.6). Aligning with Pratt, this

section uses the idea of contact zones to characterise the Caribbean islands during the period

of colonial occupation from Europe as a space of irreversible exchange.

This section will provide a historical overview of dance within Caribbean contact zones. It

will first briefly outlay the function of dance within African societies before going on to

outline reconstructive narratives around Limbo dance on the slave ships. It will then look at

the Calenda dance through colonial documentation as a continuity of African culture. The

section will also look at the creolised Contredanse forms -including Quadrille, that formed in

Caribbean contact zones. Finally, this section will overview the creolised dance forms that

emerged on the island. This section will demonstrate the ways in which enslaved peoples

continued to use dance as a source of agency over their bodies and their circumstances to

comprehend the New World, build identity, and make connections to their life before

enslavement.

In her chapter African Dance: Bridges to Humanity, Tracy D. Snipe (1998) characterises

dancing in Africa to be diverse, ‘spontaneous’ and elaborate (Snipe, 1998, p.63). Snipe

explains that ‘in Africa, dance forms a vital bridge between the dead, the living and the

unborn’ (Snipe, 1998, p.63) functioning mainly as a ‘cultural and artistic expression of the

community’ (Snipe, 1998, p.63). American dancer and anthropologist Pearl Primus (1998)

describes African dancing as encompassing all activities from ‘birth to death’ (Primus, 1998,

p.6), observing that ‘people use their bodies as instruments through which every conceivable

emotion or event is projected […] The African dancer uses the earth as if it were an extension

of the dancer's feet […] it is the subtle spiritual communion of earth and sky through the

dancer and music which makes the dance’ (Primus, 1998, pp.6–7). These brief observations

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give us an idea of the importance of dancing within African societies. The prevalent use of

dance within Caribbean contact zones demonstrates that music and dancing continued to be a

significant tool for the enslaved peoples.

Historian Genévive Fabre (1994) places the origins of the Limbo dance as beginning on the

ships that the enslaved were transported on during times of exercise (Fabre, 1999, p.36). As

the ship contained Africans from different ethnicities, Fabre deems dance to be the language

in which the enslaved Africans could communicate as they travelled across the middle

passage (Fabre, 1999, pp.36–44). Limbo, a dance which involves moving the body under a

stick (Stanley-Niaah, 2010, p.18), is said to mark the purging of identities from the Old

World, into the New World of colonial violence. Fabre explains,

The slave ship performance was not simply an atavistic spectacle or a

meaningless grotesque dance ‘under the whip’ but a creative phenomenon

of importance for the newly enslaved. Haunted by the memories of Africa,

beset by the slave trade whose laws and economic proscriptions violate their

inner beings, the dancers perform an epic drama that announces the

emergence of the New World Negro

(Fabre, 1999, p.42)

Fabre characterises dancing on the slave ships as a ‘stage of possibility’ in which

‘transformation through recollection, reassembly and movement’ occur (Fabre, 1999, p.43).

Thinking about the performance of Limbo dance in the way that Fabre posits sees it be an

example of the enslaved African’s engagement with H Patten’s corporeal dancing body.

Through the hyperextension of the torso from the hips, a space of liminal imagination and

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momentary freedom could be sought (Martin, 1998) through the invocation of cultural

memory (Buckland, 2001) and ancestral data (Stines, 2005)17.

As the enslaved Africans arrived on the shores of Jamaica, Haiti, Trinidad, Dominica, and

other Caribbean islands, they would continue to indulge themselves in dancing. Their days

would be dictated by the colonial leader, and the enslaved people would dance the memories

of their lost African homes at any opportunity available to them (Courlander, 1960, p.6). The

colonial leaders who were observing the enslaved people at the time consistently mention the

dynamism and strength that the enslaved displayed whilst dancing. William Beckford

observed,

Their style of dancing is by no means ungraceful, and the different groups

in which they assemble themselves upon these occasions would make very

picturesque subjects for a painter. They generally meet before their houses,

and sometimes in the pastures under the shade of trees, where if allowed

will continue their favourite diversion from night to morning

(Beckford, 1790, p.387)

Having conducted hard labour within the plantation fields, the energy that the enslaved

Africans displayed is surprising. The choreographer and scholar Thomas Prestø (2018) also

questioned, ‘what could motivate the body that has 16-18 hour days of intense labour under

the sun, to get up and move with such physical force, spiritual vigour and presence’ (Presto,

2018). Presto conceptualises this type of dancing body engaged in by enslaved peoples as

17 More in chapter four and nine

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The Exhausted Body, which receives a special power as it uses up its last reserves (Presto,

2018). Characterised by Africanist principles such as its ‘specific approach to grounding,

poly-centred activation of the spine, increased blood flow, breath, the presence of spirit, and

community’ (Presto, 2018). The enslaved Exhausted Body engages in the process of ‘freeing

the colonised body’ (Presto, 2018) within a liminal transcended space which produces a

revitalising strength to continue, these were dances of survival. In 1816, George Pinckard, a

colonial medical doctor, observed that the enslaved people of Barbados were, ‘passionately

fond of dancing; and Sunday offering them an interval from toil, is generally, devoted to their

favourite amusement. Instead of remaining at rest, they undergo more fatigue or at least more

personal exertion during their gala hours of Saturday night and Sunday than is demanded

from them in labour, during any four days of the week’ (Pinckard, 1816, p.126). Despite their

conditions, the enslaved peoples gave more to themselves than to the colonial leaders, in this

way dancing is reflective of resistance against the labour set by the colonial leaders and self-

care for the enslaved people.

With no access to a culture, they could connect with dance and drumming became a source of

worship for the enslaved people. However, as dance continued to be prevalent on the islands

some colonial leaders (mainly in protestant/British controlled islands) prohibited the enslaved

people from engaging in African dances, playing the drums, or practising any religious

beliefs, quoting that the enslaved people became ‘frenzied’ during these sessions (Carty,

1988, p.15). The drum and drumming were believed to be dangerous by the colonial leaders

who were worried that its use might incite rebellion and so they forbade drumming (Carty,

1988, p.15). This, however, did not deter enslaved people, who, as previously described, used

dance as a source of worship, transcendence, survival, and as a tool for agency over their

bodies. The enslaved people innovatively made drums from kerosene tins, their bodies,

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calabashes’ and other local material that could be found (Carty, 1988, p.15). Despite being

forbidden to play the African drum, the enslaved people would defiantly play it in secret and

as a consequence drumming rhythms were able to be passed down to subsequent generations

(Carty, 1988, p.15).

A dance that is exemplary of the retention of presence Africaine in Caribbean contact zones

is Calenda. Calenda (also spelt Kalenda, Kalinda, and Calinda across the Caribbean islands),

is thought to have originated from the Guinea coast and the Kingdom of Ardá in Dahomey

(modern-day Benin) (Labat, 1931, pp.401–403 52) or from the Kongo region (Dewulf, 2018,

p.3). A favourite amongst enslaved communities in Trinidad and Tobago, Grenadines,

Dominican Republic, Haiti, Martinique, Barbados, US Virgin Islands, and Guadeloupe, the

dance was banned as early as 1724 by the colonial leaders who believed it would incite

uprisings (Labat, 1931; Carty, 1988; Dewulf, 2018). Calenda has been described differently

by different colonial leaders with varying degrees of detail. From these descriptions, we can

generally conclude that the dance was a community dance between men and women, whilst

the spectators surrounded the dancers in a circle. The participants of the dance would face

each other, men on one side and women on the other. Calenda would either be danced in a

line, or a couple could dance in the middle of the circle. The drums would play, and a lead

singer would improvise a song and those gathered in the circle would join in with the

repeated refrain. There would then be a signal from the drum, which would initiate some foot

‘stamping’ or ‘tapping’ which would then initiate a pirouette, a twirl or a turn which moves

around one partner, whilst the other partner also turns. Labat (1931) describes there being a

‘striking of the thighs’ as the drum initiates further turns which brings the partners together.

Overall the dance is considered by colonial leaders to be ‘highly indecent’ ‘contrary to all

modesty’ and as the enslaved peoples were ‘deriv[ing] such pleasure’ from this entertainment

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that they must be forced to stop (St Méry (1796) cited Emery, 1988, pp.21–22; Carty, 1988,

p.14).

Some dancing from the previous life of the enslaved peoples in Africa was permitted on

festive occasions, such as Dias de Los Reyes, (in Spanish Caribbean contact zones), Feast of

Corpus Christi, Easter, and Christmas. It was on these occasions that the enslaved people

were able to release some of the frustration, hostility and aggression they held towards their

colonial leaders (Carty, 1988, p.15) through exuberant and dynamic dances. Hilary Carty

(1988) identifies some of these dances in Jamaica as being Jonkonnu, Camp Style and Xmas-

Time masquerade (Carty, 1988, p.15). Orlando Patterson (1967) describes Jonkonnu as a

dance of satire, ‘[h]ere, groups, dressed in Red or Blue […] tried to out-dance one another.

This was an indirect method of re-directing the anger against the master by challenging their

‘set’ rival. Some aggression could be directed to the masters but, again subtly through

miming and caricaturing of the whites and the satire of the songs sung on these occasions’

(Patterson, 1967, p.248). It was on these festive occasions that some enslaved peoples were

granted a certain level of “freedom” as they were allowed to dress in their ‘finery’ and

‘assume new names’ (Patterson, 1967, p.248), a sense of pride and restoration of self

prevailed on the plantations as a ‘certain degree of familiarity’ (Patterson, 1967, p.248) was

present between the enslaved peoples and the colonial leaders. Yvonne Daniel (2011)

recognises movement as a fundamental tool which African and African Diasporic people

have used to resist and overcome. This is evident in the way that the enslaved people were

using movement to not only mock the colonial leaders but regain agency over their bodies

and identities. Daniel argues that ‘in moments of dance, feelings of fierce self-worth,

strength, and rebellion are also activated’ (Daniel, 2011, p.193). This resistance which is

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manifested within the enslaved people’s movement is one of the theoretical characteristics of

British Caribbean Diasporic identities as distinguished in the previous chapter.

It is during these times of festivities that the emergent creolised culture was displayed and

explored by both the enslaved peoples, creoles (those children born of colonial leaders and

enslaved peoples) and the ruling class. When writing of the Jamaican culture, Carty (1988)

identifies these celebrations as the inception of the Jamaican culture, emphasising that this

culture was neither European nor African but a new creolised form (Carty, 1988, p.15). As

discussed in the previous chapter, Stuart Hall (2015) identifies creolised Caribbean cultures

as being constituted of presence Africaine, presence Américaine, and presence Européenne

(Hall, 2015, pp.16–18). The enslaved peoples absorbed culture from their environment, the

colonial leaders, and their memories to create new forms of cultural expression that reflected

their circumstances. Plantation revelries served as a platform in which the enslaved peoples

would be able to observe the European cultures of their colonial leaders. These Plantation

Revelries were significant social events in which the dances of the colonial masters would be

prevalent (Carty, 1988, p.14). It was on these social occasions that the enslaved peoples

carefully observed French Contredanses and Quadrilles dance by the colonial leaders. Carty

makes an important note about the nature of cultural exchange occurring within Caribbean

contact zones in reference to Jamaica, ‘opportunities for even observing European behaviour

on a social level were few and restricted to only house slaves, This also had a direct effect on

the level and quantity of European customs and styles [of dance] that could be passed on’

(Carty, 1988, p.14). Carty’s observation suggests one of the reasons for the dominance and

survival of presence Africaine within the new creolised Caribbean cultures may be because

the enslaved peoples were, for the most part, restricted from observing and participating in

European customs and cultures (Carty, 1988, p.15).

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In addition to the plantation revelries, those who were considered domestic/house enslaved

peoples along with freed African descendants were able to take advantage and utilise some of

the training of these more European styles of dance. Whilst classes were taking place within

the homes of colonial leaders or during the revelries, the enslaved peoples and free Africans

would observe and learn the movement of their colonial leaders (Carty, 1988, p.14). Those

who had the opportunity to learn these dances would then pass them onto those who were

working in the fields. In the fields, these dance forms would then be developed and adapted

by the enslaved people creating new dance forms such as Bruckins, Tajona, Polka, Kadril,

and Belair. The younger generations would then be taught these new forms of dance by those

before them. Daniel’s (2011) notes that ‘New World Africans’ were careful to learn and

adapt these forms, passing them onto the younger generation (Daniel, 2011, p.44). The

adoption of European forms and their adapting provided the enslaved peoples with an

embodied form in which they could gain agency over their bodies. These European dances

were often danced in imitation or parody (Daniel, 2011, p.44). In the enslaved peoples

‘appropriating’ ‘revered’ dance forms of their oppressors, Daniel’s recognises that these

dances became an embodied symbol of ‘physical assertion’ or a ‘finessed affront’ (Daniel,

2011, p.44) as they took claim of these dance forms as their own. The adaptation of these

forms is an example of absorption of presence Europeenne within creolised Caribbean

cultures. This section will now briefly consider the development of Contredanse forms and

Quadrilles within Caribbean contact zones to illustrate the creolisation of presence

Européenne.

One of the most prominent creolised dance forms that were present throughout the Spanish,

Dutch, English, and French colonies were the Contredanse-derived dance forms. Popular

throughout Europe in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, Contredanses consisted of

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couples of the aristocracy dancing facing each other in a series of intricate floor patterns in

hierarchical order. The Quadrille was created from the most popular contredanses (Watson,

2010, p.236). First seen in aristocratic ballrooms in Paris, the Quadrille quickly gained

popularity in London (Watson, 2010, p.236). Instead of being performed in lines like the

Contredanses, Quadrilles were performed in squares. Daniel describes the dance as being

performed in

sequential sets, often, not always with alternating tempi and dynamics. In

all the sets, males and females bowed and curtsied, approached each other

and bowed again. They turned around each other with one arm raised high

and fingers gently touching and reversed similarly in the opposite

direction. Thereafter any number of floor patterns or “figures” could be

employed […]

(Daniel, 2011, p.43)

From the seventeenth century, we see a variety of Contredanse derived forms developing all

over the Caribbean islands as the colonial leaders brought the dances from Europe to

Caribbean contact zones. Early descriptions of the dance are scarce, referred to by multiple

names, and make generalisations. Across the Caribbean, we see these Contredanse-derived

forms being referred to as, ‘quadrille, bele, kuadria, kadril, haut-taille, affranchii, tumba

franscesa, etc.’. As Quadrille and Contredanse became more dominant within the Caribbean,

these forms eventually replaced the dances that the former Africans had brought with them to

the island, and the opportunity to perform them in community (public) was no longer

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available. Yvonne Daniel notes that within the Caribbean Contredanse and Quadrille couples

did dance together but did not dance face to face or in close partnership for the duration of a

dance (Daniel, 2011, p.45). The new creolised forms of Contredanse took the European

structures but incorporated African movement principles from their past lives and the

creolised movement that was developing within plantation culture. This is another example of

presence Africaine creolising with Européenne and Américaine to create new forms.

Hilary Carty (1988) identifies an example of the African movement aesthetic in the ‘Camp-

Style’ Quadrille of Jamaica. Carty describes the dance as being ‘earthbound’ and having a

distinctive ‘bounce’ quality (Carty, 1988, p.48) which was not present in the European forms.

Janet Watson (2010), also recognises a distinct continuous polyrhythmic18 pulse within

Dominican Quadrille, ‘[…] dancers can shake their hips and shoulder and bob heads whether

dancing in place or travelling […] Above all, contrary to the practice in the European

quadrille, the entire set is always moving, even when the dancers are standing in place, filling

the whole with visible rhythms’ (Watson, 2010, p.242). During her analysis of Contredanse

forms across the Caribbean islands, Daniels identifies clear differences in how European

forms mixed with African retentions and Diasporic cultures. What is most interesting about

her analysis is how dominant African dance aesthetics are within the various forms that have

developed out of Contredanse forms. From island to island this varies, for example, Daniel

notes that within Spanish Caribbean contact zones, we see a strong retention of presence

Africaine despite the relatively small numbers of Africans on the Spanish islands (Daniel,

2011, pp.47–48). Whereas within Dutch Caribbean contact zones, colonial history documents

18 The Africanist aesthetic of layering of rhythms on the body and in music- see Appendix B

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very minimal dance practices, suggesting that there was very little organised dance or dance

training occurring (Daniel, 2011, p.54) or that it was not deemed significant enough for the

colonial leaders to record. When these dance forms did develop on Dutch Caribbean contact

zones, history records them as being influenced by European practices as opposed to the

creolised forms that were developing elsewhere on the Caribbean islands (Daniel, 2011,

p.54).

Through the nineteenth and early twentieth century, new cultures began to emerge and

develop on the islands. During this time, we see the development of a plethora of dance forms

that have subsumed European, African, and other influences experienced by the enslaved and

free people on the island. The movement manifestation of these people is representative of

the journey that they have made, the encounters and the struggles they have experienced. We

see dances such as the Rumba, Calypso, Zouk, Reggae and Mento take place within social

dance contexts. For example, Calypso finds its origins in presence Africaine through the

West African Griot. The Griot was responsible for singing the histories of the community and

providing social commentary. It was their job to remind the community of ‘social order’ and

‘ideals’ (Sirek, 2018, p.12). Calypso performance in contact zones such as Trinidad is

predominately political and social in nature. Dancing Calypso in festivities such as Carnival

was an opportunity to play ‘instruments of resistance’ to the dominant European culture

(Riggio, 1998, p.8). The rhythms played were ‘simultaneously threatening and containing the

threat of violence in ritualised encounters’ and would sometimes break out into riots (Riggio,

1998, p.8). As the process of creolisation occurred, Soca would form out of Calypso as an

inherently Caribbean form that used Calypso’s African origins with the East Indian rhythms

that are present on the island (Sirek, 2018, p.13).

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Invoking presence Africaine, forms such as Calypso, Rumba, Reggae, Zouk and Mento have

an undeniably close relationship with the musical accompaniment that formed with them.

This is a principle (aesthetic) found in African dance and music which does not separate the

two forms (Nketia, 1964, p.101; Okafor, 2005, p.27). In addition to this, these new creolised

dance and music forms are also forming out of presence Américaine as they develop out of

their environment. In performing these dances, newly forming identities can be disseminated

(Desmond, 1993, pp.34–35).

In addition to popular dance forms, we see dance practices continue within religious settings

throughout the islands. This is also an aspect of life where presence Africaine was dominant

as many practices the enslaved people engaged with derived from African cultures. The

religious practice of Kumina in Jamaica is an example of the retention of presence Africaine

within the newly forming creolised Caribbean culture that has been able to survive in

Jamaica. Brathwaite describes Kumina as,

the living fragment of an African (mainly Kongo) religion in the

Caribbean/Jamaica. It is a fragment because the slave/plantation system did

not allow more than fragments […] Therefore African culture in the slave

world, to survive […] had to submerge itself, had to lose much of its public

visibility; had, as it submerged, to accept losses, to adapt miraculously,

creatively did this; persisted and survived

(Brathwaite, 1978, p.46)

In addition to Kumina, we also see dance and music practices evolving within Vodou

ceremonis and the Orisha dances of the Yoruba traditional religion in Cuban social order

(Daniel, 2011, p.137).

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From this brief examination of dancing in Caribbean contact zones, this section has

demonstrated the ways in which the enslaved peoples absorbed from the European colonial

leaders and their African past to create new forms of creolised dance. These dance forms

served as tools for these communities in similar ways that Primus and Snipe observe that

dance functions within African societies. Whether that was through the marking of transition

found in the Limbo dance, or the appropriation of European dances to claim agency over their

bodies and circumstance, or in dancing through African derived religions that have strong

music and dance culture. In addition to presence Africaine, Européenne being present in these

contact zones, dance, and music forms such as Mento, Zouk and Rumba are representative of

new creolised forms that began to emerge as part of new Caribbean culture and identities.

These cultures not only engaged with presence Européenne and Africaine, but with presence

Américaine through the environment19 of contact zones (Pratt, 1992) and other East Asian

influences. When considering the observations of Shirley Ann Tate (2015) from the previous

chapter, we see that creolisation within dance did indeed allow these enslaved peoples to

‘distance themselves from fixity’ as they repurposed dance forms from their present situation

and their past memories, they were empowered to both ‘identify and disidentify with the

other’ (Tate, 2015, p.102) and in creating these new creolised forms the enslaved peoples

were able to recreate their identities (see Tate, 2015).

19 As Cheryl Ryman (2010) notes, presence Américaine has had a significant impact within creolised Caribbean cultures, however this has not yet been explored enough to confidently articulate (Ryman, 2010, p.99). Consequently, when mentioning presence Américaine this research characterises the influence from the environment as, Stuart Hall (2015) notes, and with the knowledge that the contribution of the Indigenous peoples goes beyond this.

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In understanding how dance has formed and functioned from African societies through to

Caribbean contact zones, we now have a historical foundation that will inform the way that

we view British Caribbean Diasporic choreographic dance practices in Britain and its

connection to establishing identity. This section has considered dance in Caribbean contact

zones. The following section will consider choreographic practices of the British Caribbean

Diasporic communities during the Windrush era, which the research defines as being from

the 1940s-1970s. This era marks the period just before the development of British Caribbean

Diasporic identities, which this research identifies as forming from the 1970s onwards.

3.2 Windrush and Beyond - 1940s-1970s

This section of the chapter will consider the choreographic dance practices of British

Caribbean Diasporic artists in the United Kingdom from the 1940s-1970s. As outlined in the

history of British Caribbean Diasporic identities in the previous chapter, this period is

characterised by the increased migration from the Caribbean to Britain. The 1940s to the

1970s marks the period before the arrival of the SS Windrush and the initial period after it

arrived in Tilbury Docks. It marks the time just before the inception of British Caribbean

Diasporic identities. As mentioned in the introduction, there has been little documentation of

dance at this time; therefore, this section will focus on Berto Pasuka and Elroy Josephs, two

key figures who were dancing during this time. The section will look at the way these two

figures were working and the Black political consciousness that informed many of their

decisions. This section will provide an understanding of early choreographic dance practices

of the British Caribbean Diasporic community. In addition to this, the section will

contextualise the transnational nature of Black political consciousness, which will be

explored further in chapters five to eight through the choreographic work of the case study

artists.

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Berto Pasuka, known as the founder of Britain's ‘first black dance company’ (Watson, 1999),

was born as Wilbert ‘Bertie’ Passley in Jamaica. Pasuka arrived in Britain in 1939. Initially

based in London, Pasuka would find work within the British film and entertainment industry

(Barnes, 2017, p.15), playing small roles in a few British wartime films, one of these being

Men of Two Worlds with Phyliss Calvert where he was a dancer (Potter, 2014; Men of Two

Worlds 1946). Notably, Pasuka was also a model for the photographer Angus Mcbean (Burt,

2017a, p.1). It was in 1946 that Pasuka, along with his friend Richie Riley (both were

classically trained) formed the first Caribbean led dance company in Britain, Les Ballet

Negres.

The pair knew each other from back home in Jamaica where they had both worked as dancers

and performers at Edelweiss Amusement Park in Kingston. Edelweiss Amusement Park was

the social and cultural enterprise founded by Marcus Garvey in 1927 and would be the

headquarters for his Universal Negro Improvement Association (UNIA). It was here that both

Pasuka and Riley would be submerged in an anti-colonial pedagogy of cultural production, as

Honor Ford-Smith analyses,

The UNIA offered performers a mode of production and distribution, an

audience and a tradition of journalistic exposure linked to anti-colonial

struggle, and the performers took this space and used it to undermine

colonial cultural tastes and to build others […]. Those performers and

participants who took up Garvey’s ideas and ran with them created

heterogeneous narratives of resistance linked to a critique of racism. They

brought subordinate voices into a public forum which gave them public

visibility and critical engagement with their work. This led to the

development of multiple narratives of anticolonial resistance

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(Ford-Smith, 2004, p.42)

One of the salient ideas of the UNIA was that ‘[…] black people must develop their own

cultural norm, […] aesthetic, […] body of literature, music, art, poetry, painting, sculpture

[…] the black artist had a duty to his race and should create works which were for the most

part if not overtly uplifting’ (Hamilton, 1991, p.90). The programmes at Edelweiss park

reflected this philosophy. Pasuka and Riley would have most probably have been a part of the

Follies, the formal dance troupe of the park, where they would have received training under

Profesor Geraldo Leon (Gerald Leon) a ‘multi-talented’ established artist who was the dance

trainer/coordinator for the park (Stanley-Niaah, 2010, p.120). When the park ceased activities

in 1934, both Riley and Pasuka continued to work in the performing arts industry in Jamaica.

Together they would work on various projects within Jamaica’s film industry, as well as

within tourism (Barnes, 2017, p.18). Pasuka, in particular, continued to build a name for

himself on the island, appearing in a range of cabarets and performances at The Ward Theatre

in the island’s capital, Kingston (Barnes, 2017, p.18).

The pair met again in London where Pasuka had mainly been working in movies. Pasuka

took the opportunity to create Les Ballet Negres (1946) after Riley arrived in England

(Watson, 1999). What was evident in the naming of the company, its repertoire, and its

themes was that the Garveyism type of black pride and self-perception had become part of

both Riley and Pasuka’s philosophy through their exposure to the Garvey movement during

their time at Edelweiss. The choice to weave this consciousness through their work is

demonstrative of resistance as a theoretical characteristic of those with British Caribbean

Diasporic identities.

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Pasuka and Riley’s involvement with the UNIA and the philosophies of Garveyism brings us

to consider the transnational nature of black political movements that were occurring at this

time. Kehinde Andrews’ (2018) book Back to Black- Retelling Black Radicalism for the

Twentieth Century is particularly helpful for unpacking the historical impact of these political

movements20.

The Black Lives Matter political movement that began in the United States in 2013, spread

into a global movement that saw action being taken against racism in a collection of ‘local

and national movements’ (Andrews, 2018, p.261). Responding to criticism of Black Lives

Matters (BLM) adoption in the UK, Andrews in his first chapter says, ‘The issues that we see

on the streets on a daily basis are caused by the same system of racism […] there is no

“British” problem that is not an American, Caribbean or African one. BLM protestors […]

are responding to the same racism that impacts their lives here’ (Andrews, 2018, p.5).

Andrews’ response is illustrative of the historical nature of Black political movements (what

Andrews’ identifies as Black radicalism) throughout the twentieth century. We see this from

the Pan-Africanist movements, Garveyism, Malcolm X’s Black nationalism and the Black

Panther Party.

Andrews identifies the roots of Pan-Africanism as occurring before the 1900s (Andrews,

2018, p.40). This movement was taken up across Africa and the African Diaspora. Paul

Tiyambe Zeleza identifies six strands of modern Pan-Africanism; transatlantic, Black

20 This discussion on Black political movements focuses on their transnational nature. Each of these movements have intricate and rich histories and are deserving of their own in-depth analysis and consideration. For more see Andrews, 2018.

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Atlantic, Continental, Sub-Saharan, Pan-Arab and Global (Zeleza in Eyoh and Zeleza, 2005,

pp.415–418). The intellectual figure at the centre of this movement was W.E.B Du Bois.

1900 marked the birth of organised Pan-Africanism in the form of the Pan-African Congress

(PAC), and its birthplace was London (Andrews, 2018, p.41). Pan-Africanism was a

movement that sought to ‘resettle the formerly enslaved in the West back on the African

Continent’ (Andrews, 2018, p.41). The organised movement of the PAC (initiated by Henry

Sylvester Williams) saw one of the ‘goals’ of the movement as improving the ‘relations

between Europeans and Africans’ (Andrews, 2018, p.42). This agenda, however, was not

enough for many Pan-African delegates, and by the fifth PAC meeting in Manchester 1945,

there was a call for ‘independence on the African continent’ (Andrews, 2018, p.42).

While Pan-Africanism was emerging, Marcus Garvey transformed the UNIA into a global

organisation with over five million members across Africa and the diaspora at its climax

(Andrews, 2018, p.42). With a similar objective to Pan-Africanism, Marcus Garvey, the

founder of Garveyism called for the ‘immediate independence and claimed for “Africa for the

African’s at home and abroad”’ (Andrews, 2018, p.42). Both Pan-Africanism and Garveyism

had a transnational approach to the solution for African and African Diasporic people across

the globe. Having said this, they had different approaches to these issues, and Pan-Africanism

(more specifically Du Bois) would eventually reject the Garvey movement (for more see

Andrews, 2018, pp.37-66). In addition to Garveyism, we also see a transnational approach to

Black political thought from Malcolm X (1965) who said,

When I speak of the Afro American, I’m not just speaking of the 22 million

of us who are here in the United States. But the Afro American is that large

number of people in the Western Hemisphere, from the southernmost tip of

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South America to the northernmost tip of North America, all of whom have

a common heritage and a common origin

(X 1965 cited in Andrews, 2018, p.94)

Throughout his activism, Malcolm X met with many global revolutionary leaders, including

Fidel Castro (Andrews, 2018, p.95). Travelling throughout the Muslim World and Africa,

Malcolm X integrated his politics with the broader struggle on the African continent

(Andrews, 2018, p.95). Calling themselves the ‘children of Malcolm’ (Andrews, 2018,

p.210), the Black Panther Party was also a political movement that adopted a global

perspective (Andrews, 2018, p.104). The Black Panther Party’s politics and approach

inspired movements outside of America such as the 1968 Black Panther Party in Britain

(Andrews, 2018, p.210) and the Polynesian Panther Party in 1971 (Anae, Iuli and Tamu,

2015). These political movements are illustrative of why Paul Gilroy’s notion of the Black

Atlantic and the consideration of British Caribbean Diasporic identities as transnational are

important, as they allow an analysis that contextualises not only political consciousness but

movement and philosophies that go beyond the locality of Britain and the Caribbean. The

example of the rhizome that was introduced in the previous chapter and will be explored

further in chapter four, provides us with a paradigm in which to consider how these

connections are made through practices of rooting across the Black Atlantic within the

construction of British Caribbean Diasporic identities.

In Pasuka and Riley naming their dance company Les Ballets Negres, they made a statement

that pushed the word ‘black’ at a time when people were using the word ‘coloured’ to

describe people of African descent (Watson, 1999). They used French to promote a type of

Western sophistication and used ‘ballet’ to serve in helping audiences conceive the ‘Negro

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ballet’ (Watson, 1999) as a form of dance that would not function on the same principles as

European or Russian Ballet. Though Pasuka and Riley were both classically trained at the

Astafieva’s Ballet School in London (Barnes, 2017, p.26), they chose to reject this system of

dance as it was. Pasuka would not find ballet to be suitable for his ‘people’ explaining in an

interview that it was too ‘conventional’ (Isaac, 1949). Instead, the company would create

what they would call ‘Negro ballet’ or ‘Negro dancing’ (Watson, 1999). In company notes

Riley explains, ‘Negro ballet is something vital in choreographic art. As conceived by Berto

Pasuka, it is essentially an expression of human emotion in dance form, being the complete

antithesis of Russian ballet, with its stereotyped entrechats and pointe work’ (Riley cited in

Watson, 1999). This type of movement aesthetic would draw from African and Caribbean

folklore and ritual and brought a new dynamic to what was on offer in the form of Ballet at

the time. Drawing on presence Africaine Pasuka used ‘rhythmic movements of the hips, head

and shoulders’ where the ‘dancer’s eyes’ were also considered an ‘instrument of expression’

(Kelsall, 1946), instead of pointe work and entrechats (Watson, 1999). Pasuka’s conception

of Negro Ballet can be seen in the same way that the enslaved peoples reclaimed Quadrille

for themselves (as explained in the previous section). Pasuka’s creolised ballet created

movement that reflected his own experiences and personal philosophies. In his book Inward

Stretch Outward Reach - A voice from the Caribbean Rex Nettleford (1993) illustrates that

artistic output and Caribbean cultural identity are inextricably linked (Nettleford, 1993, p.66).

In this understanding, Pasuka’s Negro ballet can be considered to be a tool of expression that

aided in forming his (and possibly others) identity, as Daniels (2005) notes, performance

offers benefits both to the individual and to the wider society (Daniel, 2005, p.57).

Les Ballet Negres made their debut at the Twentieth Century Theatre in London (1946) with

a four-piece ballet programme (Harpe, 1997b) where they performed for eight weeks. The

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ballet included De Prophet, They Came, Market Day and Aggrey. The show proved to be

very popular and brought success for the company touring both the UK and Europe. Dame

Sybil Thorndike remarked,

This particular ballet form of Negro art is quite absorbingly interesting,

taking us back into religious beliefs and fetishes which may seem quite wild

and improvable but are not so far removed from some of our solid English

fetishes and prejudices

(Thorndike 1999 cited in Ramdhanie, 2005, p.158)

Pat Salzedo, the only white member of the company, described the ballet as having, ‘a

rhythm, an exoticism and yet a familiarity that drew all types of people from a variety of

backgrounds and opposing classes into the theatre to watch them’ (Salzedo 1999 cited in

Ramdhanie, 2005, p.157).

After Les Ballet Negres first successful ballet, Pasuka and his stage director/ business

manager R.W Griggen who was also the business manager for The Ballet Negres Society

(Barnes, 2017, p.31) made a total of five applications to the Arts Council of Great Britain, to

secure funding. This funding was necessary to supplement the small profit being made from

the box office. Despite the Arts Council of Great Britain recognising the initial success of the

company and that the choreography presented was ‘experimental’ in addition to Pasuka being

a ‘remarkable dancer’, the Arts Council rejected the company’s applications for funding,

commenting that there was a possibility of support if the company, ‘raised their standards all

around and prove their artistic integrity’ (White, 1946). Despite Pasuka’s efforts, without

additional funding, the company was no longer able to continue and collapsed in 1953.

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Although its time was short, Les Ballet Negres represented a new type of dance company that

had not yet been seen in the United Kingdom. With a foundational philosophy in Garveyism,

Pasuka and his company took the knowledge that they had from ballet, cabaret, and other

dance/drama forms that they had been involved in to develop a Negro ballet that was

Caribcentric.

Elroy Josephs, the next figure this section will look at, was a dancer with Les Ballet Negres

in 1950. Although he was not a prominent choreographer, Josephs represents what Bob

Ramdhanie describes as a ‘gigger and dance act’ (Ramdhanie, 2005, p.161) and what might

be considered today as a portfolio performer. Having arrived in Britain in the 1950s from

Jamaica, Josephs joined Les Ballet Negres for their final few years, playing minor roles in

their final ballet in 1952 at the Twentieth Century Theatre in Westbourne Grove,

He was thus one of the mourners in Nine Nights, one of the dancers in They

Came, and one of the Black Keys in Aggrey. He danced character roles in

other ballets. He was the Thief in Market day, the Cripple who is healed in

De Prophet, the Victim in Blood, and the Proprietor of a Harlem nightclub

in Cabaret 1920

(Burt, 2017b)

In the late fifties and sixties, Joseph would also work as an actor in television shows such as

Cool for Cats (1959), Doctor Who in 1964, and many more film and television roles.

According to Toby Hadoke, Josephs was the first actor of British Caribbean Diasporic

heritage to have a significant speaking role in the popular British television series Doctor

Who (IMDB, 2019). In addition to film, Josephs would also have the opportunity to work in

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theatre, appearing in productions such as West Side Story and Robinson Crusoe in regional

theatres (Burt, 2017b, p.8).

As Josephs became a part of the growing Caribbean community in Britain, he became vocal

on political and social issues that African and Caribbean people were facing (Burt, 2017b,

p.16). This is not surprising considering Josephs’ parents were ‘exposed’ to the black

consciousness movement of Marcus Garvey (Burt, 2017b, p.16), and that he worked for Les

Ballet Negres who were informed by the Edelweiss programme’s approach to creating art at

the UNIA. In a TV Guide article Joseph states ‘[a]spiring dancers, actors and singers who are

born here and complain because they don’t get a break have no idea how much harder it is to

“get in” when you have a black face’ (Dalzeli, 1959). Josephs would go onto work with the

Commission for Racial Quality and the Actors Union Equity (Harpe, 1997a, p.18). He would

become one of London’s first dance animateurs and work with the Minority Arts Advisory

Service (Burt, 2017b, p.10). Josephs also worked internationally as a chairman for the Dance

Committee and was a dance specialist for the British Zone of the Second World Black and

African Festival of Arts and Culture in Lagos (Harpe, 1997a, p.18; Burt, 2017b, p.8).

As the first senior lecturer of ‘Afro-Jazz’ at what is now called Liverpool John Moores

University but was formally known as IM Marsh (Harpe, 1997a, p.18) Josephs’ political

consciousness was also present in his classes where Bill Harpe (1997) quotes Josephs telling

his students, ‘there is […] the top of the tree, and that’s Hollywood. But there are also the

roots and they go back to Africa- and I’m teaching you the roots of Jazz dancing’ (Josephs

cited in Harpe, 1997a, p.18). With a wide range of dance training, which included Ballet,

Flamenco, Spanish forms, African, Classical Indian dance forms, and Caribbean dances,

Ramsay Burt (2017) suggests that his approach to Jazz could be described as ‘fusion’ (Burt,

2017b, p.14). I would posit that Josephs’ approach to Jazz was an engagement with the

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unceasing process of creolisation that the previous chapter recognises as being a part of

British Caribbean Diasporic identities. Seeing movement as a site of ‘meaning making’

(Foster, 1995b, p.x) as Foster identifies, a reading of Josephs’ creolised Jazz practice might

reveal more about the way Josephs was using these forms to negotiate his identity and

personal philosophies through movement. Chapters five to eight will consider how movement

negotiates identity through the reading of the practices of rooting within the case study

artists’ choreographic work.

Having access to Josephs’ C.V. Burt identifies that Joseph’s had his own small dance

company that toured Europe and ran a studio in the sixties. Under the name Elroy Josephz

Productions, Josephs also ran a group that performed cabarets in Madrid (Burt, 2017b, p.8).

One of the most enduring legacies left by Josephs is the community dance project that he

initiated in the seventies. Based in Camden, Dance Theatre Workshop No.7 was ‘community-

based, and involve[d] young people of many nationalities and their parents’ (Josephs 1979

cited in Burt, 2017b, p.9). The community project would perform across London, including

venues such as, ‘The Young Vic, The Cockpit Theatre, LUYC Summer Festival in Camden

and the Islington Dance Festival’ (Burt, 2017b, p.9). In 1979, Josephs would pass on the

company to Carl Campbell, who would rebrand it Carl Campbell Dance Company No.7.

From the landing of the SS Windrush Empire until the late seventies, we see the first

generation of immigrants negotiate a space for creolised cultural expression of dance to be

produced within a British context. Although this era saw little development in terms of dance,

through the historical consideration of Les Ballet Negres and Elroy Josephs, contextual

comprehension of the types of movement vocabulary and environment that the early pioneers

were negotiating can be gained. Rex Nettleford (1985) concurs with Pearl Primus (1998)

when he states we should, ‘… implicitly believe in the organic connection between the arts of

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a people and both their everyday living experience and their historical experience… of which

dance may be the foremost elemental expression’ (Nettleford, 1985, p.15), I believe that these

two figures demonstrate this. It is evident that the presence of a transnational Black political

consciousness and their philosophies around it played a role in shaping how they created and

approached choreography. In addition to this, their work, teaching methodologies, and

projects formed into a reimagining of their training in Ballet and Jazz. Through a process of

creolisation both Josephs and Pasuka created an expression of movement that reflected their

everyday experience, their histories, and personal philosophies.

Having understood the way in which the early pioneers of British Caribbean Diasporic dance

were working, the next section of this chapter will consider what this research identifies as

the first-generation of British Caribbean Diasporic artists in Britain.

3.3 First-generation Artists 1970s-1990s

As outlined in the previous chapter, the 1970s marks the development of British Caribbean

Diasporic identities. These were identities that were forming out of the experiences of the

children of the Windrush generation who did not entirely identify with Caribbean identities.

This generation recognised the multiplicity of their identity and adopted the hyphenated term

Black British (see chapter two) or Black British Caribbean (what this research identifies as

British Caribbean Diasporic) to distinguish themselves from their parent’s generation who

considered themselves to be West Indian/Caribbean. Having said this, these identities were

also impacted by the transnational Black political and cultural movements that had been

gaining global traction since the beginning of the century, namely Pan-Africanism and

Rastafarianism. We can see this in the way my mother spoke about her brother and sister, my

Auntie Carmen and Uncle Donald, in chapter two, and the effect that my mother recognised

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these movements had on their identities. From my mother’s anecdote in the previous chapter,

it is evident that this new British Caribbean Diasporic generation was not negotiating their

identities homogenously but were rooting in different ways (the concept of rooting will be

discussed further in chapter four). As Gilroy describes, this generation was ‘culturally rich’

and orientated themselves multiply as ‘diaspora subjects’, ‘world-citizens’, and ‘descendants

of slaves’ through different ‘liberatory sounds’ (Gilroy, 2007, p.257).

Within the choreographic dance practices of British Caribbean Diasporic artists, we also see

different approaches to movement and aesthetics. This can be characterised through the

forming of the two predominant dance practices of British Caribbean Diasporic artists at the

time. We see the forming of African Caribbean dance groups (Adair and Burt, 2017a, p.152),

which predominately engaged with dances and musical accompaniment from within

traditional African forms and creolised Caribbean forms. Parallel to this we also see many

British Caribbean Diasporic artists engaging with Contemporary Dance techniques such as

Martha Graham technique, and some artists becoming invested in the New Dance21

movement that was forming in Britain at the time. British Caribbean Diasporic dancers were

also engaging with other dance forms such as Ballet and Jazz during this time. To provide a

brief historical overview, this section will focus on specific dance companies, their formation

and positioning within the dance field rather than specific people (excluding the introduction

of case study artists).

21 Described by Emlyin Claid (one of the founding artists of this movement) as ‘a framing device for dance artists’ liberation’ (Claid, 2006, p.79). New Dance was a practice of dance that rejected the previous modern dance framework which perpetuated the hierarchical systems of Ballet and released dance artists into more experimental work.

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Before this section details a historical overview of first-generation British Caribbean

Diasporic artists. It is necessary to address the discussion around the naming of the sector of

dance in which these artists and companies were existing. The Black Dance/African People’s

Dance sector is identified by Bob Ramdhanie as being established on the platform of the

Black Dance Development Trust (BDDT)22 after it dissolved in 1990 (Ramdhanie, 2005,

p.263). ‘Funmi Adewole recognises that ‘as an institution, BDDT used available structures to

create a space within the professional subsidised dance sector for a dance movement that

formed in the context of community activism’ (Adewole, 2017, p.13). The forming of the

sector indicated the emergence of dance that ‘redefined African dance as a British based

practice’ (Adewole, 2017, p.130). Regarding “African” through the transnational Black

Atlantic, this British practice drew from African dance and music, creolised Caribbean dance

forms and music, and Black political and cultural consciousness such as Garveyism and

Rastafarianism (Ramdhanie, 2005, p.257).

The term “Black Dance” has incited much debate. Its ambiguity implies everything and

nothing simultaneously. As mentioned in chapter two, within Britain “Black” (political

blackness) has been used refer to all of those who have had a history of colonisation by the

British (Carty, 2007, p.3).

So, when we say Black Dance, what do we mean? The term Black Dance has had many

forms. In 1987 Anne Millman (1987) renamed Black Dance as ‘African People’s Dance’

(Millman 1987 in Bryan 1993, p.10) as the work of ‘African and Afro-Caribbean dance

22 The Black Dance Development Trust will be discussed later in this section.

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companies and the techniques, skills, music and traditions of their work’ (Millman 1987 in

Bryan 1993, p.10). Jann Parry in 1988 saw the term as ‘sinister’, writing that dancers of

African and African Diasporic heritage should be funded because they have something

‘interesting’ to communicate ‘not because of their skin colour’ (Parry, 1988, p.16). Here

Parry was referring to the Greater London Arts organisation giving priority to Black and

Asian arts organisations (Parry, 1988, p.16). Stephen Penty in 1990 stated ‘Black dance is by

no means homogenous. It spans forms of pure or classical dance from several continents and

nations, Contemporary Dance from continents, sub-continents, and nations to also include so-

called popular dance such as jazz dance, lindy hop and Charleston’ (Penty 1990 in Bryan

1993, p.10). When reviewing the rise of Black Dance in Britain, Ann Nugget in 1990

recognised the slippery nature of the term, ‘[…][to] anthropologists, sociologists, and

ethnologists it has different specialist connotations […] it is a tricky definition’ observing that

‘“white” companies are not singled out […]’ (Nugget, 1990, p.26).

The Black Dance Development Trust’s mission statement incorporated their definition of

Black Dance, expressing that it wanted to focus on ‘…the interests of Afrikan peoples’ dance

and music forms. These may be traditional forms or its derivatives’ (BDDT mission

statement in Bryan, 1993, p.12). More recent publications recognise the confusion around this

term, Hermin Mackintosh’s (2000) Time for Change report for the Arts Council concludes

that the plethora of definitions for Black Dance is ‘debilitating’ and ‘stifles the development

of art forms’ (McIntosh et al., 2000, p.15). The report concludes that there is not a ‘body of

work that can be labelled as Black Dance’ and that ‘for every one definition produced there

exists another ten’ (McIntosh et al., 2000, p.15). The report adopts the term African People’s

Dance as it was the ‘more focused definition, which [could] be understood by all’ (McIntosh

et al., 2000, p.15). Ramsay Burt and Christy Adair (2017) in their book British Dance, Black

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Routes intentionally avoid using the term Black Dance which they see as ‘problematic’ and a

‘key barrier to re-reading the legacy of British based dancers who are Black in a meaningful

and productive way’ (Adair and Burt, 2017b, p.4). These most recent terms are indeed more

helpful ways of thinking about Black Dance.

I have addressed this debate here because much of the following history that the rest of this

chapter overviews has the term Black Dance within its original source. As problematic as it

may be, it is a known term for the sector of dance that British Caribbean Diasporic dance

artists have been working in. In an attempt to bring more clarity to the term, this research will

use dance of African and African Diasporic heritage which includes the work of British

Caribbean Dance artists. In doing this (comparable to the use of Black British in chapter

two), I intentionally imply the presence of other African, Caribbean and Diasporic identities

who are also a part of this history.

The first half of this section will give an overview of the African and Caribbean Dance

groups that were forming at the time, demonstrating their connections to one another. It is

here that the chapter will introduce the first case study of the thesis, H Patten. Following on

from this, the second half of this section will look at the emergence of key British Caribbean

Diasporic- led Contemporary Dance companies during this time. It will also introduce the

second case study artist of this research, Greta Mendez.

3.3.1 African and Caribbean Dance Companies

This sub-section will give an overview of the African and Caribbean dance companies that

were forming in Britain from 1970-1990s, many of which were Caribbean led. The sub-

section will contextualise the work of the first case study artist of this research, H Patten,

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focussing on companies such as Steel ‘n’ Skin, Kokuma, and Adzido. This section will give a

brief introduction to H Patten (in italics).

In 1960 the National Dance Theatre of Jamaica performed in London as part of the

Commonwealth Arts Festival, before going on a national tour across the UK. This tour in

addition from a visit to the United Kingdom from the Ghana Dance Ensemble and the

Guinean Les Ballets Africaines would inspire a generation to form dance companies that

were interested in traditional African dances and creolised Caribbean dance forms (Adair and

Burt, 2017c, p.151). At this time, it was the commitment of individuals who invested

personal time, resources, and effort, to sustain, establish and train these companies. Through

their efforts, many of these companies were able to create work and tour, despite having very

little help from public funds (Ramdhanie, 2005, p.178).

Peter Blackman was to become a significant figure in initiating these groups, founding Steel

‘n’ Skin in 1974. Steel ‘n’ Skin ‘ led the revolution in the re-emergence of traditional African

dance in England amongst Black Caribbean Communities’ (Ramdhanie, 2005, p.179). The

company was both music and dance-focused, conducting workshops in drumming, playing

steel pan and dancing for young people in local communities across the country. Working

with distinguished dancers and drummers, the company sparked a new curiosity of Africa,

the Diaspora and its cultures for all those who came into contact with them (Ramdhanie,

2005, p.179), as is evident from the 1979 documentary about the company on a ten-day

workshop it conducted in Liverpool (Steel ‘n’ Skin, 1979). In an interview with Bob

Ramdhanie, Peter Blackman (1999) points out that they were the ‘first major black music and

dance group to get funding from the Arts Council’ (Blackman, 1999). With their success, the

company encouraged the emergence of other companies such as Lanzel in Wolverhampton,

(1975) Ekomé in Bristol (1976), Kokuma in Birmingham (1977) and Delado in Liverpool

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(1981). Blackman and his team were supporting these groups, training them in mostly

Ghanaian dance forms (Ramdhanie, 2005, p.179).

Many of these companies became established and experienced success. Ekomé National

Dance Company founded by the Anderson family in Bristol, for example, initially sought to

adapt traditional Ghanaian dances and music to the experiences of the new Black British

generation. Barry Anderson (2002) recalled to Ramdhanie,

In our area in Bristol (St Pauls) there was nothing to do for black youngsters.

We used to hang around the community centre but when we started doing

African dance, there was a new kind of feeling in the area. I remember when

Steel ‘n’ Skin started with us, how much energy there was in rehearsals and

then at performances. The minute you put your costumes on and hear the

drums, you became different

(Anderson, 2002)

As the company developed, the focus shifted to connecting Black Britons to their roots by

promoting traditional African dances in their original forms. The company became a ‘client’

of the Arts Council England, and developed their technique, knowledge and skills through a

series of research trips to Ghana (Ramdhanie, 2005, p.180), Ekomé continued until 1986.

Kokuma Dance Company also saw significant success during its twenty-three-year history.

Originally a jamming group named Mystic and the Israelites, the company was founded by

Bob Ramdhanie and Pat Donaldson. Kokuma aimed to make ‘African dance more accessible

to a wider community and to encourage the development of positive attitudes to dance and

movement based on African technique’ (Ramdhanie cited in Digital Dance Archive, 2017).

The company engaged the local community of Handsworth, Birmingham gaining a notable

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presence at the local cultural centre (Ramdhanie, 2005, p.180). Kokuma grew steadily and

were shortlisted in 1990 for the Prudential Award for Dance, and in 1993, they received the

Black Award for Dance. In 1995 Patrick Acogny 23 joined the company and became its

artistic director. Throughout its time, the company toured nationally and collaborated with

impressive talents such as Jackie Guy of the National Dance Theatre Company of Jamaica,

Peter Badejo, and H Patten.

H Patten is a case study artist within this research. Amongst many things, Patten is a fine

artist, dancer, and musician (specifically a drummer). Patten grew up in Birmingham with

his parents and siblings during the sixties. He would become a cultural activist from a young

age, engaging in grassroots movements that promoted Africa and African liberation. Patten

became a founding member of Danse De L’Afrique in 1980 after meeting Bob Ramdhanie. It

is with Danse De L’Afrique that Patten would journey to Ghana on the first of many trips to

the continent. Initially journeying to Africa to train in traditional dance forms, Patten’s talent

would take him back time and time again, as student, teacher, choreographer, and artistic

director. Patten would go on to establish his own company in the UK and continue to make

significant contributions to the field of African and African Diasporic dance through practice

and scholarship. A more detailed exploration of his biography will be explored in chapter

five.

Another company, worth mentioning in this first-generation of British Caribbean Diasporic

artists is Carl Campbell Dance Company 7. Passed onto Carl Campbell by Elroy Josephs in

23 Patrick Acogny is the son of Germaine Acogny, who is known as the mother of African Contemporary Dance.

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1978 the company continues as a community project and has risen to national acclaim.

Performing across the country and internationally, the company has collaborated with

schools, the National Maritime Museum, the National Council of Senior citizens of Jamaica,

and has appeared on national television. The company uses African and Caribbean dance

aesthetics to engage the community in dance. Programmes such as Recycled Teenagers and

Start ‘Em Young are evident in the wide-ranging demographic that participates with the

company (Carl Campbell Dance Company 7, n.d).

The largest and arguably the most successful company that was concerned with traditional

African dance aesthetics during this period was Adzido Pan African Dance Ensemble.

Formed in 1984 by George Dzikunu and Emmanuel Tagoe, the company aimed to bring Pan

African dances from around Africa to British audiences. Although the company was African

led, many British Caribbean Diasporic artists were dancers in the company. By 1988 the

company had their first season at Sadler’s Wells, debuting with a production called Coming

Home, this production had twenty-eight dancers and musicians hailing from an array of

African countries (Evans, 2002, p.90). The company grew in popularity and in 1991 received

regular funding from Arts Council England. The money received supported full-time

contracts for musicians and dancers, allowing the company to tour nationally and

internationally and put on large-scale productions that included poetry and theatre (Adewole,

2007, p.79). In 2003 Greta Mendez choreographed on the company. The work that Mendez

choreographed, brought together the traditional African aesthetics and abstracted them in a

way that made the piece more aligned with Contemporary Dance trends (Adzido Pan African

Dance Ensemble Showcase June 2003 [Video], 2003). Adzido was closed in 2005 due to the

withdrawal of funding by Arts Council England. The company performed its last show at The

Place in London in 2005 (Brown, 2005).

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Through these companies, we can see that it was significant for the new British Caribbean

Diasporic generation to engage with presence Africaine through traditional African and

creolised Caribbean dance forms. Many of these companies were “community-facing”, and

so their ‘collective presence’ (Adair and Burt, 2017c, p.156) went beyond theatre spaces

directly into society. This suggests an engagement with movement that goes beyond just

“dancing” but positions the body as a construct in which to affirm identities within the British

landscape. This is evident through the shift in Ekomé’s agenda to engage in rooting British

Caribbean Diasporic identities through presence Africaine, reflecting a becoming that

belonged to the past (represented in the traditional dance forms) as much as the future (Hall,

1990). Dancing in this way is demonstrative of British Caribbean Diasporic identities as

existing within Gilroy’s Black Atlantic (1993), which are not confined by geographical

locality or nation but through a practice of rooting that is choreographic are rhizomatically

making connections to Ghana, Jamaica, and other countries across the Black Atlantic as they

move.

3.3.2 Contemporary Dance and British Caribbean Diasporic artists

This final sub-section will give an overview of the Contemporary Dance practices, led by

British Caribbean Diasporic artists during this time. It will specifically focus on MAAS

Movers, the Black Dance Development Trust and Phoenix Dance Theatre. It will also

introduce the second case study artist of this research, Greta Mendez (in italics),

contextualising her work within the discourses around dance at the time.

The seventies marked a significant shift in British Dance. Tired of the restrictive aesthetics of

modern techniques and the expectations in dance, a new generation rose to experiment and

create new methodologies of entering and being in dance. This was the beginning of ‘New

Dance’ and would eventually become Independent Dance (Claid, 2006, p.79). The 1970s

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became a decade in which the identity of Contemporary British dance would be gradually

established. It would be an identity that would move away and become independent of the

American tradition (Jordan, 1992, p.3). In this period, we see companies such as the X6

Collective and Rosemary Butcher Dance Company produce experimental dance with new

philosophies and approaches to dance. The first Dance Umbrella would be held in 1978.

Emlyin Claid, a member of X6, describes liberation as the drive behind this new move of

dance,

[…] liberation, not new dance, was the term that drew us together.

Liberation from fixed form and structures was our key to making

performance. Whether the performance works were minimalist, parody,

autobiographical, inter-disciplinary, traditional, ballet or contact

improvisation, men dancing together or women dancing together, the

attention to liberation from convention united them to new dance not for

their similarities but for their differences. We freed up any possible unity of

style because this is what liberation is about

(Claid, 2006, p.79)

The first Black British led Contemporary Dance company was MAAS Movers. Formed in

1977 – a year after the X6 collective, MASS movers were a group of ten dancers who wanted

to create a space for young Black British dancers to work as professionals. Black British

dancers were often restricted to commercial theatre or cabaret at this time (Thorpe, 1990,

p.175). MAAS Movers hoped to be a space where the artistry of Black British artists could be

taken seriously. MAAS Mover's first piece opened at the Oval House Theatre in South

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London in July 1977. They performed five pieces choreographed by Collins, Evrol Puckerin

and Greta Mendez with an additional lecture-demonstration by Ray Collins.

Greta Mendez, the second case study of this research, arrived in London from Trinidad in

1971 to train at the London Contemporary Dance School located at the Place. Mendez would

find herself as a central figure within the development of the first Black British led

contemporary dance company, MAAS Movers. Of Canadian and Trinidadian heritage,

Mendez grew up dancing, learning classical Western forms and other traditional forms of

dance from Scotland, Ireland, Africa, and India. Her eclectic range of dance training is one

that is exemplary of presence Américaine, Africaine, and Européenne that is present on the

Caribbean islands. Throughout her career, Mendez has been a vocal activist for both

independent and what is known in the sector as ‘Black Dance’. Believing in the ideology of

MAAS Movers, Mendez would pick up the pieces of the company when it was on the verge of

collapse, acting as both the artistic director and rehearsal director. After the company

folded, Mendez would travel the world sharing her philosophies around dance, making work

that is predominately concerned with social issues and using a movement vocabulary that

brings together all her dance training. After a period of sickness Mendez became a movement

director, her work focussed in theatre. Mendez continues to make work and perform out of

her experiences.

The company had its second season at the Riverside Studios in Hammersmith London in

1978. This time the company had the help of William Louther, one of the leading dancers of

the Martha Graham Company. Louther created a 30-minute piece called Peace Be Still (1978)

which focused on Black Pride and was inspired by Malcolm X (Claid, 2006, p.105). Evrol

Puckerin, a Trinidadian, presented the piece Spirits (1977) which focused on Caribbean dance

traditions. Greta Mendez presented two pieces: In Limbo and The Chair and Me (1978), both

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of these pieces explored female sexuality (Claid, 2006, p.105). From this second season, we

can see the diversity of the company, who were engaging with a range of discourses and

aesthetics around the African Diasporic experience. This became an area of contention for the

company, who struggled to find an identity. Mendez recalls,

We’ve had wonderful artistic rows at company meetings about the

rep[ertoire]. The dancers who were trained in Graham technique want to do

modern dance pieces. They did not want to be labelled as cliché black

dancers, all wriggling hips, undulating shoulders, exotic. The other dancers

wanted to do dances from folk tradition. MAAS Movers work incorporated

the contemporary and the traditional the real power of Shango rites, Limbo

and Calypso. I’m not talking about a wailie wailie wahla ethnic stuff. I’m

talking about folk dances that have deep symbolic meaning and poetry.

Tradition is an empowering thing, all that we have today is built yesterday,

we shoot at comets to enrich our knowledge of today. In dance, we can also

explore some of those traditions combined with trained bodies to create

works that explore contemporary narratives

(Mendez, 1978, p.15)

As the most prominent Black British Contemporary Dance company at the time, there was a

struggle to pin down what they should represent. The dancers were torn between the desire of

wanting to represent and explore their cultural heritage24, and being part of the revolution of

24 See: MERCER, K. (1990) Black Art and the Burden of Representation. Third Text, 4(10), p. 61.

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Modern Dance that was occurring at the time. The New Dance movement cultivated many of

the modern and classical Western dance techniques that these dancers had been trained in. In

addition to this, these forms were classed as more professional disciplines (Evans, 2002,

p.89), and so with the aim of wanting to present as professional, many dancers wanted this to

be the identity of the company. The disagreements on the identity and direction of the

company paired with the lack of funding, administrative and structural support were all

factors in the untimely demise of the company which simply did not have the vision or

resources to continue.

After Ray Collins resigned as artistic director, Mendez acted as the artistic and rehearsal

director for the company. Mendez told me how everyone had to take on multiple jobs to keep

the company going. At this time, Mendez felt that it was her dedication to the company and

its success that was holding it together (Mendez, 2017a). After two years of being reviewed

by the Arts Council of Great Britain, MAAS Movers were promised revenue funding;

however, despite the devotion of the company, the funding never appeared. MAAS Movers

was disbanded in 1979.

Shortly after MAAS Movers had dissolved the north of England would see the inception of

the second Contemporary Dance company that was British Caribbean Diasporic led. Founded

in 1981, Phoenix Dance Company (later Phoenix Dance Theatre) was founded by Donald

Edwards, David Hamilton and Villmore James. A year later in 1982, Merville Jones and

Edward Lynch would join the company making them five. Although these dancers had no

formal training, they had exceptional ability, gained from the classes they took at Harehills

Middle School under the direction of Nadine Senior. The company was able to cross dance

and cultural contexts, giving them a broad appeal. At the time, with the collapse of MAAS

Movers, they were the only dancers identifying themselves as Black British within the

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Contemporary Dance scene in Britain. This was at a time when Contemporary Dance was

seemingly reserved for white dancers (Adair, 2007a, p.121). Based in Leeds, the company

were quickly recognised nationally as one of the dance companies at the forefront of British

Dance. Initially, the company worked in educational settings (Phoenix Dance Theatre, n.d).

In the early productions of Phoenix, we especially saw the dancers creating a choreographic

language that spoke to them. Their approach to dance, saw the dancers draw on cultural

references such as Caribbean toasting and skanking (e.g. Forming the Phoenix 1982) within

the framework of Contemporary Dance. This is exemplary of a characteristic of British

Caribbean Diasporic identities which exist on the unceasing continuum of creolisation. It was

this innovation within Western dance aesthetics that made Phoenix stand out.

Within three years of Phoenix forming, the company had its first TV appearance on the

notorious South Bank Show. By 1985 they had secured funding from the Arts Council of

Great Britain, and by 1991 the company had achieved middle-scale status (Adair, 2007b,

p.121). Christy Adair, in her historical account of the company’s first twenty years, observed

that there was a struggle for the company to establish a sense of its own ‘purpose and agency’

(Adair, 2007a, p.123). In Adair’s analysis, she finds that the founders of the company were

expected (by funders, critics and audiences) to be a ‘flagship’ company for ‘Blackness’

(Adair, 2007b, p.128), and therefore whilst the funding was able to expand and sustain the

company, it stifled its artistic vision (Adair, 2007a, p.129). The bodies of these men became

an ‘ambiguous political tool, both satisfying and dissatisfying their own and everyone else’s

vision’ (Adair, 2007a, p.129). Despite this tension, the company would go on to experience

undeniable success, which it has maintained for an impressive thirty-eight years. The

company has had several artistic directors including, David Hamilton (1981-1987), Thea

Barnes (1997-2000), Darshan Singh Bhuller (2002-2006) Javier De Frutos (2006-2009), and

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Sharon Watson who has been the artistic director since 2009. Like the name Phoenix suggests

the company has had many reincarnations, with each artistic director shifting the focus of the

company. Whilst Phoenix continues to be a success and is led by a British Caribbean

Diasporic woman, the presence of African and African Diasporic dancers in the company has

unfortunately diminished to a handful. Phoenix’s approach to movement reflected one faction

of the emerging British Caribbean Diasporic dance artistry.

Founded by Beverly Glean in 1985, IRIE! Dance Theatre originally evolved as part of a

programme called Caribbean Focus which was, ‘devised to illustrate the rich Caribbean

cultural heritage that existed within local communities in South London’ (Thorpe, 1990,

p.179). The company has an aesthetic that is steeped in Caribbean folk dances, Jazz,

Contemporary Dance, and Reggae. The themes that the company are interested in are almost

exclusively around the Caribbean (Evans, 2002, p.90), this Caribcentric approach saw the

company create pieces such as Reggae Ina ya Jeggae- which takes the audience on a journey

through Reggae music, and invited artists such as Jackie Guy from the National Dance

Theatre of Jamaica to choreograph for the company. Jackie Guy choreographed a piece called

Danse Caribbean (1986), which utilised a range of Caribbean folk dance forms such as

Mento, Quadrille, Burru, and Tambo (Adewole, 2016, p.70). In an interview with ‘Funmi

Adewole, Glean notes that Danse Caribbean, in particular, represents the roots of IRIE!, in

that it utilises a movement language that explores the connections between a range of forms

and genres (Adewole, 2016, p.70). This approach is exemplary of creating on an unceasing

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continuum of creolisation, which through its use of creolised dance aesthetics are routed25

through presence Africaine, Européene, and Américaine.

IRIE! Dance Theatre has been evolving since its inception, in 1985 the company developed

the first academically recognised foundation diploma in African and Caribbean Dance, which

has now developed into a BA dance degree in Diverse Dance Forms. The company still

creates and performs nationally, and aims to ‘deliver and sustain a range of creative,

educational and artistic activity based on stimuli derived from Africa and the Caribbean; the

company promotes culture and diversity through training, outreach, performance and inspired

partnerships’ (IRIE! Dance Theatre, n.d).

A key organisation during this time and that has been mentioned throughout this history was

the Black Dance Development Trust. Formed in 1985 by Bob Ramdhanie and Chester

Morrison, the trust aimed to provide training, funding, and administrative support to African

and Caribbean Diasporic dance practitioners. One of the most significant initiatives that the

trust formed was the Black Dance Summer Schools, which ran from 1985 to the late eighties.

The first summer school took place in Leicester and was an opportunity for dancers of

African and African Diasporic heritage to receive training from renowned choreographers

and teachers from across the African continent and the Diaspora. Tutors from Senegal,

Ghana, Jamaica, Nigeria, and Cote D’Ivoire gave intensive workshops and provided rigorous

training in technique and choreography in addition to educating their students with the social

and historical contexts of the dances they were teaching. Hilary Carty recalls, ‘The debates

25 notions of routing and rooting will be discussed further in chapter four.

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were heated and went on well into the night, as we were taught how to trace the origins of

contemporary movement styles and Caribbean dance styles to their African roots’ (Carty,

2007, p.20).

Although this research rejects all conceptions of static roots for an understanding of rooting

as process, the notion of tracing movement that Carty brings up here is of interest. In seeking

to understand how British Caribbean Diasporic artists navigate, affirm and form their

identities through movement, the analysis chapters (five to eight) will trace the movement

within the choreographic work of the case study artists through transnational Black Atlantic

and creolised Caribbean connections. In identifying this, the analysis does not seek to

deconstruct movement to a set of gestures but to trace movement with the aim of

understanding how the artist is rooting the multiplicity of their identity. This will be

discussed further in the chapters that follow.

The Black Dance Development Trust would receive funds from arts funding agencies, but a

lack of clear focus on whom the Trust’s help was directed to (was the trust for those using

African and African Diasporic forms in their work or for those practitioners who found their

origins in the Caribbean or Africa) meant that it could not adequately meet their targets

required by the funding agencies and their funding was withdrawn (Evans, 2002, p.90)26.

26 Another notable company that formed in this period is Union Dance Company, founded in 1985 in London by the South African Corrine Bougaard. Union Dance is one of the few companies that is still produces work. The company, ‘weave a tapestry of musical, visual and movement influences from across the globe’, existing to explore and express an identity through dance which reflects the growing cultural fusion of contemporary society (Union Dance, n.d). Having performed at major venues nationally and internationally, Union Dance continues to prioritise the African and African Diasporic experience through its productions and projects.

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This section has overviewed the history of what this research defines as the first-generation of

British Caribbean Diasporic dance artists. To further contextualise the choreographic work of

the final two case studies of this research, the final section of this chapter will consider what

it deems to be the second-generation of British Caribbean Diasporic artists.

3.4 Second-generation Artists 1990s -2019

From the late eighties, the second-generation of British Caribbean Diasporic people would be

born. This generation would be more readily accepted into society, through the strivings of

their grandparents and parents. Having said this, racial tension and institutional bias was and

is still a reality for this generation, as discussed in chapter two. Increased visibility in public

life sees British Caribbean Diasporic people become politicians, sportsmen, journalists, and

television presenters. This period also sees further harmony between the different factions of

the wider Black British community, as British Caribbean Diasporic people and African

British people despite having different cultural and historical foundations, find unity in their

experiences of living as Black in Britain as discussed in chapter two. This second-generation

of British Caribbean Diasporic people would begin to create their own music and cultural

expressions that distinguished them from their parent’s generation. We see this through the

innovation of language and the emergence of music genres such as Garage and Grime.

Dance within this period sees an increase in independent dance practice, and project-based

dance companies and are predominantly African British led. The companies that have been

forming during this period are interested in a range of dance forms, stemming from

traditional African dances to Hip-Hop, Street, House, Ballet, and Contemporary Dance. In the

same way that Black British identities are producing their own creolised cultural aesthetics,

many of these companies have formed their own movement languages and as a consequence

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are not bound by the boundaries of technique or dance conventions that they have been

trained in.

To consider the context that the second-generation of British Caribbean Diasporic artists are

working in, the final section of this chapter will consider prominent Black British companies

and artists of this period. In doing this, the section will highlight key British Caribbean

Diasporic artists and British Caribbean Diasporic led companies. The section will introduce

the final two case studies of this research, Jamila Johnson-Small and Akeim Toussaint Buck

(in italics).

One of the first most significant artists working at the beginning of this period is of African

heritage. After a successful career in Nigeria and the United States as a performer, director,

teacher, and academic, Peter Badejo moved to the United Kingdom in 1990 to establish

Badejo Arts. Badejo Arts as a dance company was primarily interested in the use of Nigerian

and other traditional African dance forms with Western Contemporary Dance to create a

hybrid form of African Contemporary Dance. The company addressed issues around

migrating to Britain and the migrant experience. Badejo Arts created full-length productions,

delivered workshops in schools, youth programmes, and professional development. This

included the successful Bami Jo Annual International Summer School which saw its

beginning in 1993. These workshops were a reincarnation of the Black Dance Development

Trust’s summer schools and had a similar significance in the training of African and African

Diasporic dance forms within the United Kingdom. These summer schools were held in

venues throughout England, including the South Bank Centre (Badejo Arts, n.d). Tutors came

from across the continent and diaspora to teach at the summer schools. This included Patrick

Acogny (Senegal), Zab Maboungou (France/Congo/Canada), Homero Gonzalez (Cuba),

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L’Antoinette Stines (Jamaica) and George Momboye (France) (Badejo Arts, n.d). The tutors

taught vibrant classes for one week.

An active member of the sector, Peter Badejo, challenged the perception of Africa in the

United Kingdom and opposed how African dance was portrayed in companies such as

Adzido, Ekomé and Steel ‘n’ Skin. Instead, Badejo preferred work that highlighted the

adaptability to traditional African dance (Evans, 2002, p.91) within the Contemporary Dance

context. The criticism Badejo had of the first-generation artists (and those of African heritage

who were also involved in African Caribbean dance companies) was found in their approach

to presence Africaine, in which they often sought authenticity in the use of traditional dance

forms. This was not reflective of how these forms were evolving and adapting on the

continent (See: Uzor, 2013). This approach to presence Africaine will be discussed further in

chapter nine.

Badejo believed the Black Dance/ African People’s Dance sector needed to have

infrastructure, both theoretically and in practice (Evans, 2002, p.91). The creative vision that

Badejo injected into the sector saw him awarded with an OBE for his contribution to dance,

Badejo Arts successfully ran until 2008.

In 1994, Marie McCluskey gathered a group of concerned artists whose work was under-

represented and misunderstood by mainstream British Dance. In this gathering, the

Association of Dance of The African Diaspora (ADAD) was created. ADAD was to become

a vital organisation within the sector of African and African Diasporic dance, providing

platforms for, emerging, mid-career and established artists. In addition to professional

development for artists through a series of programmes and funding opportunities such as

Trailblazers and initiating research such as the National Dance of the African Diaspora

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Survey. ADAD has produced publications on the field such as Voicing Black Dance (2007).

Its heritage project bought the history of Black Dance in Britain from 1930-1990 to the

Theatre Museum and the V&A Museum. ADAD also has a quarterly Newsletter Hotfoot

which has been a resource for the Black dance community to stay connected with relevant

information on dance and opportunities. ADAD had a more focused philosophy about

African and African Diasporic dance forms and the diversity that exists within those forms

than The Black Dance Development Trust. The work of the Association has been essential in

platforming the voices of marginalised African and African Diasporic artists and those

interested in forms from within those cultures.

ADAD has been at risk of closing many times throughout its history. As the first director of

the organisation, Jeanette Bains and Chair Carolene Hinds note, ‘ADAD’s story has been one

of survival’ (Bain and Hinds, 2007, p.8). In 2016 ADAD merged with three other

organisations to become DAD at One Dance UK, functioning as a department within a larger

organisation. This merger has shifted the focus and the ability of the organisation to support

artists, however, the organisation continues to create essential connections for those working

within the sector with initiatives such as RE:Generations - an international dance conference

that brings the sector together bi-annually.

African Cultural Exchange Dance and Music, also known as ACE Dance and Music, was

founded in Birmingham by husband and wife duo Ian and Gail Parmel in 199627. Currently a

27 Other key companies established in the nineties are, JazzXchange Music and Dance Company founded by Sheron Wray (1992-2009), Kompany Malakhi founded by Kwesi Johnson in Bristol (1994-2013) and Henri Oguike Dance Company (1999-2011) founded by Henri Oguike in London

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National Portfolio Organisation28, the company was established as an ‘agent of cultural

exchange’ with an aim to combine African and Caribbean movement aesthetics with

Contemporary Dance aesthetics (ACE Dance and Music, 2018). ACE Dance and Music

define their signature style as Afro-fusion – movement that is ‘rooted in traditional’ forms yet

expressed through a ‘purely contemporary lens’ (ACE Dance and Music, 2018). The

company emphasises the importance of the collaboration between music and dance within

their work and has developed nine productions which they have toured nationally and

internationally. As well as creating productions, the company deliver outreach and education

programmes regionally. Their youth dance company has a reputation for excellence with

many of their students leaving to study at prominent conservatoires in Britain.

ACE Dance and Music’s approach to movement and choreography, which they define as

fusion, is exemplary of the unceasing continuum of creolisation that is in a constant process

of Hall’s becoming (1990). The company draws on a variety of dance aesthetics that include

presence Africaine, Européenne, Américaine, and Asiatic influences. Through this ACE

Dance and Music connect across the Black Atlantic and beyond to form their own movement

language.

At the turn of the millennium, we see the establishment of two companies that would go on to

enjoy some success within mainstream dance. Ballet Black and Boy Blue Entertainment both

founded in 2001 have both pushed the African and African Diasporic bodies to the forefront

28 National Portfolio Organisations (NPOs) are described by the Arts Council as ‘leaders in their areas with a collective responsibility to protect and develop out national arts and cultural ecology’ (Arts Council England, 2018, p.5). NPOs receive annual funding from the Arts Council for a minimum period of four years.

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through their philosophies. Ballet Black29 was created to provide opportunities for dancers of

Black and Asian descent in classical Ballet (Ballet Black, n.d), whilst Boy Blue

Entertainment seeks to bring Hip-Hop beyond the streets and clubs to a wider audience (Boy

Blue Entertainment, n.d). Both companies have been recognised nationally, with Boy Blue

winning two Laurence Olivier Awards in 2007 and 2017, and Ballet Black winning a

National Dance Award in 2013.

A significant figure within this period, especially within the realm of Hip-Hop/ Street dance

forms is Jonzi D, whose company, Jonzi D Productions was created in 2005. It is a little

misleading to place Jonzi D in this period as he had been working nationally and

internationally within dance and in Hip-Hop as a DJ, Dancer, and Rapper since its inception

in the early eighties.

In 1999, Jonzi D, in collaboration with Channel 4, filmed a dance for camera piece called

Aeroplane Man which he had previously created for the stage. The piece sees Jonzi travel

across the Black Atlantic through England to Grenada (the land of his parents), Jamaica,

America, and Southern Africa, adapting his movement aesthetic to reflect the culture as he

journeys across these different countries. Jonzi D finds rejection at every locality; however,

he concludes by stating, “I’m never far from home when the body is my kingdom and my

throne is my dome” (Jonzi D Aeroplane Man, 1999). In Aeroplane man, Jonzi D reflects the

challenge of identity that many who hold multiplicitous hyphenated identities experience. In

this challenge, questions of belonging often arise. This research posits that these “side-

29 The word “black” within Ballet Black is reflective of the homogeneous view of political blackness which sees Blackness as being non-white.

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effects” of multiplicity within the British Caribbean Diasporic community is countered by

practices of rooting through cultural aesthetics. Jonzi D concludes the filmed piece by saying

that he is “Irie with his ID” because he negotiates it through his mind and body, a place

where he holds agency (Jonzi D Aeroplane Man, 1999). Jonzi D’s statement reflects dance

theory which sees dance as a tool in which the relationship and understanding of ‘body and

self, gender, desire, individuality, community and nationality’ (Foster 1996, p.xii) can be

negotiated. As Jonzi D moves he engages in a practice of rooting through all the cultures and

environments that constitute his multiplicitous identity.

Jonzi D productions uses Hip-Hop and its sub-cultures to make compelling theatre pieces that

have risen to critical acclaim. In 2004, Jonzi D premiered his most successful project

Breakin’ Conventions, an international Hip-Hop festival with the support of Sadler’s Wells.

The festival has been operative for fifteen years, expanding into a national and international

festival, touring cities such as Canada and the United States. In 2011, Jonzi D was offered an

MBE for services to dance. Jonzi D rejected the MBE because ‘any legacy of empire and

colonialism is completely corrupted’ (D cited in The Voice Online, 2015). In 2013, Jonzi D

premiered a piece called The Letter, which was about his thought process around this

decision and the reaction of those around him.

Growing up in North London, Jamila Johnson-Small (the third case study of this research)

graduated from the London Contemporary Dance School in 2009. Johnson-Small would

initiate and be involved in a number of long-term collaborations as well as making solo

performances under the name Last Yearz Interesting Negro. The work Johnson-Small creates

exists on the spectrum between Contemporary Dance and Live Art. As a consequence of this

Johnson-Small’s work reaches diverse audiences and is performed in a multitude of spaces,

including, art galleries, museums and traditional theatre spaces. In 2017, Johnson-Small was

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commissioned to create her first full-length solo i ride in soft colour and focus/ no longer

anywhere, which has experienced great success, touring the United Kingdom and Europe. In

2019 Johnson-Small received the Arts Foundation Futures Award 2019 for Visual Art, for the

innovative visuals used in i ride in soft colour and focus/ no longer anywhere. Johnson-Small

continues to collaborate with a plethora of artists such as Phoebe Collings-James and

Rowdy-SS, creating solos, duets, and ensemble pieces for all dancing bodies.

Towards the end of the 2000s, we see a surge in new project-based companies being formed.

These companies were predominantly interested in using a range of traditional African dance

forms with Popular, Street/Hip-Hop, Classical and Western forms of dance together to create

new movement languages and were led by those of African heritage. Three notable project-

based companies that were created during this time were, Tavaziva Dance formed by Bawren

Tavaziva in 2004, Uchenna Dance formed by Vicki Igbokwe in 2007, and Alesandra Seutin’s

Vocab Dance. These companies have received the ADAD Trailblazer award and continue to

grow and produce work that tours nationally and internationally today.

Another organisation that is increasingly supportive of the Black Dance/ African People’s

dance sector is Serendipity Artists Movement. Founded in 2010 by Pawlet Brookes,

Serendipity is a ‘diversity-led’ (Arts Council England, 2019) organisation that runs Let’s

Dance International Frontiers (LDIF), an international dance festival in Leicester. The

festival showcases work from across Africa, the Caribbean, and their respective diasporas.

Through LDIF, Serendipity aims to ‘ensure that [they] give a voice to the underrepresented

communities’ (Arts Council England, 2019). With programmes such as LDIF+- a

professional development programme, and an annual publication that is produced from their

annual conference, Serendipity is developing a prominent voice. This was substantiated in

2018 when Serendipity received NPO status.

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The final case study of this research is Akeim Toussaint Buck. Born in Jamaica, Buck came to

the UK as a young boy. Leeds would be his home and where he would eventually train to be a

professional dancer. Buck has a background in Hip-Hop styles of dance and was known as a

freestyler. Through college, Buck became interested in dance and trained in Ballet,

Contemporary, Jazz and elements of Physical Theatre. He would eventually be accepted to

the Northern School of Contemporary Dance and complete their undergraduate programme

in dance in 2014. Since graduating Buck has performed with a number of dance companies.

As a young independent artist Buck has experienced success, in 2016, his first full-length solo

piece Windows of Displacement was commissioned by Yorkshire Dance. Buck has an eclectic

movement vocabulary which combines his many talents including poetry, Capoeira,

beatboxing and singing. He is particularly interested in the healing aspects that dance has

and its ability to connect people.

The Conservative hostile environment and austerity discussed in the previous chapter resulted

in the availability of funding being significantly cut for the entire arts sector. This has had an

impact on the dance sector, which has always struggled with funding compared with other art

forms. For African and African Diasporic artists, this has made it even more difficult as their

historic struggle to have the same opportunities as their Caucasian counterparts continues.

There are approximately nine prominent African or African Diasporic dance companies

currently operating in addition to many smaller companies that make work occasionally. The

nine companies I refer to are the ones that are Arts Council supported and are making work

that is touring nationally and internationally. These companies are, Ballet Black, Vocab

Dance, Uchenna Dance, Tavaziva Dance, Jonzi-D - Breakin Conventions, Dancing Strong

(Adesola Akinleye), Avant-Garde (Tony Adigun), Boy Blue Entertainment, and ACE Music

and Dance. These companies represent a myriad of movement, including Hip-Hop, classical

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and Western Contemporary Dance forms, popular, street and club forms such as House, Afro-

House/Pop, Voguing and Waacking, B.Boying, and traditional African and creolised

Caribbean dance forms. These companies are representative of the diverse nature of the wider

Black British community within the UK.

This chapter has given a historical overview of British Caribbean Diasporic choreographic

practices through a Caribcentric framing. The chapter has not only demonstrated the

expansive and diverse ways that British Caribbean Diasporic artists are creating movement

but also how dance is contextualised within the development of British Caribbean Diasporic

identities. In addition, this chapter has revealed that many of the highlighted companies are

creating on the unceasing continuum of creolisation to form their own movement

vocabularies for choreography. As a characteristic of British Caribbean Diasporic identities

identified in the previous chapter, this observation strengthens the connection between

movement and identity within this community. Through its historical narrative, the chapter

has also contextualised and introduced the case study artists of this research. As mentioned in

the introduction, these artists and British Caribbean Diasporic culture cannot be reduced to

this narrative, they have the autonomy to exist outside of it or partially within it in different

ways. The narrative of dance and identity formed within this chapter gives context to the

conceptual and analysis chapters of this thesis and does not intend to imply the case study

artists are directly commenting or responding to this history through their choreography.

The following chapter is the key conceptual chapter and will develop the main theoretical

concepts of this thesis, practices of rooting and performative becoming. Through these

concepts, the research will read the choreographic work of the case study artists in chapters

five to eight.

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Chapter 4: Practices of Rooting and Spaces of Performative

Becoming

Submarine roots: that is floating free, not fixed in one position in some

primordial spot, but extending in all directions in our world through its

network of branches

(Glissant, 1997, pp.66–67)

Now that the thesis has laid the contextual foundation for this research, this chapter will

expand on the key concepts of the thesis - practices of rooting and spaces of performative

becoming- that were first introduced in chapter one. As a reminder, this research considers

practices of rooting to be a verb. It is the continuous process of burrowing deep, it is the

extending out under systems of oppression, foreign lands, and hostile environments through

engaging with and creating cultural aesthetics to form temporal sites of affirmation, stability,

security, and transformation. Practices of rooting that are choreographic produce spaces of

performative becoming, through which British Caribbean Diasporic artists affirm and create

their identities on stage.

As detailed in chapter two British Caribbean Diasporic identities reflect the transcultural

(Caribbean), diasporic, and British cultures of which they are constituted. A crucial part of

British Caribbean Diasporic identities growing and developing in British society has been the

community’s ability to create its own forms of music, art, hairstyles, fashion, dance and other

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forms that this research refers to as cultural aesthetics (see chapter two). The term cultural

aesthetics is more commonly known as cultural products. This research has chosen to not use

the term cultural products because of its relation to commodification, globalisation, and what

Kennel Jackson terms ‘Black Cultural Traffic’ (Jackson, 2005, p.4). Before cultural aesthetics

become products, they serve as cultural expressions made for the community by the

community. In defining cultural expressions through the term cultural aesthetics, this research

is emphasising the function of these cultural aesthetics within practices of rooting before they

are commodified and appropriated.

This chapter will first develop its concept of rooting through notions of “roots” that stem

from the fields of cultural and postcolonial studies drawing on the work of, Derek Walcott,

Deleuze and Guattari, Edouard Glissant, Kamau Brathwaite, and Ruth Mayer. The chapter

will then conceptualise practices of rooting that are choreographic as spaces of performative

becoming. It is through the comprehensive development of these concepts within this chapter

that the four analysis chapters that follow (five, six, seven and eight) will consider how each

case study artist is engaging in a practice of rooting and forming spaces of performative

becoming that (re)create and affirm their identities through their choreographic work.

4.1 Practices of rooting

Practices of rooting are cultural practices that occur as individuals from British Caribbean

Diasporic communities engage with cultural aesthetics that are produced by the community.

As these individuals engage with cultural aesthetics, they create and (re)create their identities

both as individuals and through collective experiences. These cultural expressions can often

(although not always) be created by engaging with historical ancestral practices within

modern contexts. For example, the masquerade dance and character of satire Jonkonnu (as

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mentioned in chapter three) is still practised throughout the Anglophone Caribbean islands

today. Through engagement with such cultural aesthetics, practices of rooting form identities

that pull from both the past and the present and have the ability to form the future (Hall,

1990; Bhabha, 1994). Examination of practices of rooting offers opportunities to understand,

the development of British Caribbean Diasporic identities, how individuals produce ways in

which to connect to their identity, and how these connections exist in relation to the histories

of British Caribbean Diasporic identities. This research is particularly interested in looking at

practices of rooting that are choreographic. To do this, it is pertinent that we first understand

how rooting differs from “roots”.

The trope of being rooted or discovering roots has been used and developed significantly

within postcolonial theory. Gayatri Chakravorty Spivak (1990), a prominent postcolonial

theorist criticises the use of roots stating, ‘if there’s one thing I totally distrust, in fact, more

than distrust, despise and have contempt for, it is people looking for roots. Because anyone

who can conceive of looking for roots should, already, you know, be growing rutabagas’

(Spivak and Harasym, 1990, p.93). Spivak’s criticism that those who want to find roots

should be growing swedes (rutabagas) is understandable, especially in the context of identity

construction where even those with the most seemingly uncomplicated heritage may find it a

challenge to understand what their true ‘roots’ may be. The conceptualisation of roots as a

map to a ‘point of origin’ in which we are anchored has also been criticised by Stuart Hall

who says ‘it’s impossible to locate in the Caribbean an origin for its peoples’ (Hall, 1995,

p.5). As discussed in chapter two, Hall (1995) notes, that there is no point of origin and thus

no source from which creolised Caribbean identities can draw, the essentialised West Africa

that the enslaved Africans left behind no longer exists, and therefore cannot be referenced as

an origin point.

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Similarly to Spivak, Liisa Makki (1992) recognises that we lose something when we narrow

our consideration of identity only to ‘places of birth and degrees of nativeness [this] is to

blind oneself to the multiplicity of attachments that people form to places through living in

them, remembering and imagining them’ (Malkki, 1992, p.38). Gilroy recognises the ‘appeal

of rootedness’ as stemming from, ‘a political agenda in which the ideal of rootedness was

identified as a prerequisite for cultural integrity that could guarantee the nationhood and

statehood to which they [African Diasporic people] aspired’ (Gilroy, 1993, p.112). For

Gilroy, the pursuit of roots is a retort to racist ideology which has ‘denied the historical

character of the black experience and the integrity of black cultures’ (Gilroy, 1993, p.112).

As highlighted in chapter one, this research conceptualises rooting as a verb and process as a

way of rethinking the nature of roots. Hebdige’s (1987) notion of roots reflects the thinking

of this research. He notes in his study on Caribbean music and cultural identity, ‘roots

themselves are in a state of constant flux and change, roots don’t stay in one place. They

change shape. They change colour. And they grow. There is no such thing as a pure point of

origin […] But that doesn’t mean there isn’t history’ (Hebdige, 1987, p.10). Although

Hebdige is still using the term roots which implies static and fixed origins, his

characterisation of roots reflects the dynamism that is present within rooting. As

demonstrated in chapters two and three, it is not possible to neatly trace creolised identities

back to any rooted source, they are fractured and distributed at several points during their

construction. The use of rooting as defined in this thesis moves beyond essentialised thinking

of “roots” to allow for rooting practices that reflect the disjointed and fluctuating nature of

identities such as British Caribbean Diasporic identities.

Within postcolonial theory and cultural geography (generally), a distinction is made between

roots and routes, however, positioning rooting as verb implicates journeying. Considering

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routing/rooting as interchangeable allows for comprehension of the routing that is subsumed

in practices of rooting. In this sense, practices of rooting are maps that are in constant

development as they change and grow alongside journeys of identity construction. Within the

poet and playwright Derek Walcott’s epic poem Omeros (1990), for which he won a Nobel

Prize in Literature, we see the relationship between routing and rooting being explored. As

Elizabeth DeLoughery (2007) identifies, Walcott’s opening scene depicts Caribbean trees ‘as

ancestral gods who must be felled in order for the Greek-inspired fishermen, Achille(s) and

Hector, to fashion them into canoes and retrace their African routes to the sea’ (DeLoughrey,

2007, p.48). Here Achilles and Hector quite literally transform roots (Caribbean tree) to

rooting (canoe) to enable journeying across routes,

A thorn vine gripped his heel. He tugged it free. Around him, other ships

were shaping from the saw. With his cutlass he made a swift sign of the

cross, his thumb touching his lips while the height rang with axes. He

swayed back the blade,

And hacked the limbs from the dead god, knot after knot, wrenching the

severed veins from the trunk as he prayed: “Tree! You can be a canoe! Or

else you cannot!”

(Walcott, 1990, p.6)

Achilles’ journey to an imaginative origin is out of a necessity to renegotiate his identity as a

fisherman as opposed to seeking a final point of origin. What is interesting about the

metaphor used by Walcott, is the use of the sea as a place in which rooting/routing begins,

‘Only in you, across centuries of the sea’s parchment atlas, can I catch the noise of the surf

lines wandering lines the shambling fleece of the lighthouse’s flock’ (Walcott, 1990, p.13).

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Through a creative and transformative process of rooting, the Caribbean tree (roots) as canoe

becomes a vehicle for rooting/routing across the sea to discover the traces of Achilles’ and

Hector’s ancestry. This is a quest by these characters for a depth of understanding and

affirmation of identity. Likewise, engagement with practices of rooting becomes a vehicle

through which creolised identities may be negotiated, and imaginative origins sought after.

Practices of rooting, therefore, are valuing of both process (journey) and locations.

Several theorists (Gustafson, 2001; Friedman, 2002; Greene, 2007; Bell, 2009; Levitt, 2009),

when considering cultural identities have explored the notion of roots/routes as a way of

understanding the hidden connections and negotiations that occur within these identities.

Throughout his career, Brathwaite has interrogated the idea of routes/roots in relation to

Caribbean literature and identity formation (Brathwaite, 1987; Brathwaite, 1993; Brathwaite,

1995). More recently Brathwaite has developed the concept of tidalectics, a model which

Elizabeth DeLoughrey describes as,

a methodological tool that foregrounds how a dynamic model of

geography can elucidate island history and cultural production, providing

the framework for exploring the complex and shifting entanglement

between sea and land, diaspora and indigeneity, and routes and roots

(DeLoughrey, 2007, p.2)

The concept of tidalectics is underpinned by the back and forth movement of the ocean to the

shores of the Caribbean islands. This sense of movement cannot be described as cyclical; the

movement and production of creolised identities are not a “coming back to” as a cycle would

suggest. It is movement that is continuously shifting and changing directions as it draws back

from the shore into the wider Atlantic, before coming back again changed and renewed. As

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the ocean arrives on the shores it is ‘coming from one continent/continuum, touching another,

and then receding (“reading”) from the island(s) into the perhaps creative chaos of the

future…’ (Brathwaite and Mackey, 1999, p.34). The concept of tidalectics allows us to move

away from the linearity that notions of roots and their journeys are often associated with and

consider a notion of rooting that is in constant change submerging and resurfacing at the

shores of identity. As briefly touched on in the introduction, the notion of rooting that this

thesis is interested in is not one that anchors down to create stability. Rather it is interested in

a conception of rooting that, like the nature and dynamic of tidalectics, is continuously

shifting.

This research conceptualises its notion of practices of rooting to align with Brathwaite’s

tidalectics. The rooting that this research is interested in, therefore, is not solely concerned

about where rooting is coming from, but also where rooting is going to. Through reading the

practices of rooting of the case study artists, the analysis will trace the ways in which the

corporeal dancing bodies of the artists are making connections across ‘continents’ and

‘continuums’ (Brathwaite and Mackey, 1999, p.34) of movement, history, and making a

future of their own.

When thinking about rooting through the movement and the connections that tidalectics

suggests, it is helpful to consider the image of the rhizome. As a reminder from chapters one

and two, the rhizome is a subterranean stem in which both roots and stems grow from its

nodes, growing perpendicular. The rhizome has no distinguishable point of origin but has

multiple connections that are both vertical and horizontal.

In their book A Thousand Plateaus (1987), Deleuze and Guattari develop the concept of

rhizome as a model for theory and research that is multi-layered and has multiple points of

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entry and exit. Deleuze and Guattari identify a series of principles that a rhizome holds, these

are: that unlike a tree or their roots, a rhizome is not fixed to a specific point, but instead can

connect to a multitude of points, its direction is not from point A to B and back again but

‘perpendicular’, a ‘ transversal movement that sweeps one and the other away […]’ (Deleuze

and Guattari, 1987, p.25). A rhizome produces stems that connect with roots but ‘puts them

to strange uses’ (Deleuze and Guattari, 1987, p.15). The traits that rhizomes hold are not

necessarily connected within the same nature. The rhizome exists in multiples and cannot be

reduced to binary points but is not ‘one that becomes two or even directly three, four, five

etc.’ (Deleuze and Guattari, 1987, p.21). The rhizome is made up of plateaus, always in the

middle, a place ‘from which it grows’ and ‘overspills’, there is no identifiable beginning or

end, but the rhizome exists in the ‘interbeing, intermezzo’ (Deleuze and Guattari, 1987, p.25).

This by no means normalises the rhizome, but Deleuze and Guattari recognise the middle as a

space where things ‘pick up speed’ (Deleuze and Guattari, 1987, p.25). The rhizome is

constituted of ‘linear multiplicities’ which change when they encounter, transforming the

very nature of the rhizome (Deleuze and Guattari, 1987, p.21). Deleuze and Guattari,

consider the rhizome to be ‘antigeneology’, ‘anti memory’ only holding the short-term

(Deleuze and Guattari, 1987, p.21). The rhizome must be traced onto a map. The duo insists

that this is a ‘map that must be produced, constructed, a map that is always detachable,

connectable, reversible and modifiable, and has multiple entryways and exits and its own

lines of flight’ (Deleuze and Guattari, 1987, p.21). There is no hierarchy to the rhizome, it

can be considered poly-centred or acentered.

The principles of the rhizome that Deleuze and Guattari present aid in exemplifying the

rhizomatic rooting of this research which is multiplicitous and makes connections across the

Black Atlantic and beyond. As demonstrated in chapter two identities are not fixed, they

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connect to multiple cultures at different points in different ways and have varied significances

relative to the individual. They are adaptive and always in creation, as Gilroy demonstrates

within his conceptualisation of the Black Atlantic (Gilroy, 1993, p.123). Analysing practices

of rooting within creolised identities is, therefore, a way of tracing the pathways creolised

identities have forged on a map of their becoming (Hall, 1990) as they are performed,

created, and affirmed through the engagement and production of cultural aesthetics. This is

not in pursual of a point of origin, but to acknowledge the places of connection that practices

of rooting are engaging with as they move.

The above illustrations of rooting and routing work together to demonstrate the multiplicitous

and dynamic nature of rooting that this thesis is adopting within its conception of practices of

rooting. Through the natural and botanical, we see that Walcott’s metaphor of roots (tree)

transforms to rooting /routing. This demonstrates how rooting leads to journeying across

routes of the sea to an imagined origin. In thinking about the sea and the way that rooting

occurs across the Caribbean islands, Brathwaite’s tidalectics provides a dynamic image of

movement occurring within the sea connecting ‘continents’ and ‘continuums’ (Brathwaite

and Mackey, 1999, p.34). Through the sea, these connections manifest amalgamated at the

islands shore.

Walcott’s metaphor and Brathwaite’s conception further illuminate the process and

amalgamation of cultures and identities within Deleuze and Guattari’s rhizome (1987). The

rhizome is a network of multiple connection points with no beginning or end. The tracing of

these subterranean stems that Deleuze and Guattari insist must be mapped, provide a means

in which we can attempt to read these connection points and continuums, all the time

recognising that they have multiple entry and exit points (Deleuze and Guattari, 1987, p.21).

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The ‘maps’ that British Caribbean Diasporic identities form leave trails of ‘collective

memory about another place and time and create[s] new maps of desire and attachment’

(Appadurai and Breckenridge, 1988, p.5), they produce a unity that Brathwaite identifies as

being ‘submarine’ (Brathwaite, 1974, p.64), this unity connects the autonomous islands of the

Caribbean and the diaspora through the shared experiences of journey and creolisation.

Edouard Glissant (1997) expands Brathwaite’s observation of submarine unity throughout the

Caribbean to conceptualise what he calls ‘submarine roots’,

[…] this expression can only evoke all those Africans weighed down with

ball and chain and thrown overboard whenever a slave ship was pursued

by enemy vessels and felt too weak to put up a fight. They sowed in the

depths the seeds of an invisible presence. And so transversality, and not

the universal transcendence of the sublime, has come to light… we are the

roots of a cross-cultural relationship. Submarine roots: that is floating free,

not fixed in one position in some primordial spot, but extending in all

directions in our world through its network of branches. We [live by] this

shared process of cultural mutation, this convergence that frees us from

uniformity

(Glissant, 1997, pp.66–67)

Once again, through Glissant’s notion of ‘submarine roots’, we see a rejection of roots as an

entity that has a point of origin or fixed destination. Through the histories of those that have

‘sown’ into the land physically and spiritually fertile water has formed in which the rooting

of creolised identities feed. Ruth Mayer (2000) identifies Glissant’s submarine roots as

existing in a ‘world below emerg[ing] as a realm beneath existing lines of power and

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signification, an ambivalent space [...] a fantasy which is always as much of the future as it is

past’ (Mayer, 2000, p.561). It is in these fertile waters of the sea, in a ‘world below’ (Mayer,

2000, p.561) that the presences of Caribbean identities as identified by Hall (2015) (presence

Africaine, Européenne, and Américaine,) amalgamate, connecting and forming new identities

which arrive on the shores of Caribbean cultural aesthetics through the rhythms and flow of

Brathwaite’s tidalectics.

The ideas that Deleuze, Guattari, Brathwaite, Glissant and Mayer offer are significant to

understanding how practices of rooting work in identity formation. The common theme

across these concepts is that they function below ground, submerged in the sea or in realms

that are beyond our ordinary perception. Practices of rooting are the consideration of what is

occurring within these submerged realms where identities are formed through the

engagement and creation of cultural aesthetics. The examination of practices of rooting

reveals a mapping of collective memories that extends across the Black Atlantic. When

considering practices of rooting that are choreographic, this submerged realm is the embodied

realm. It is the assembly of collective memory, present experiences and future aspirations

which are subsumed into the body, allowing for rhizomatic connections to be made across

time, beyond borders and power structures.

4.2 Performative Becoming

This thesis proposes that spaces of performative becoming are created as British Caribbean

Diasporic artists engage with and create practices of rooting that are choreographic. Spaces of

performative becoming are liminal spaces through which the case study artists affirm and

create their identities on stage. As suggested in the previous section, this thesis considers the

body to be a submerged realm through which connections to, and negotiation of identity

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occur. The body-in-motion, therefore, becomes a construct which Susan Foster asserts can be

“read” to gain an understanding of identities and cultural processes.

The notion of reading dance was first introduced by Susan Foster in 1986. Foster defines the

reading of dance as an ‘active interactive interpretation of dance as a system of meaning’

(Foster, 1986, p.xvii). Foster was one of the first to articulate this area of dance theoretically

and as a methodology (Chatterjea, 2004, p.85). This part of Dance Studies is focused on

highlighting the ‘materiality of embodiment’ (Chatterjea, 2004, p.85) and has become more

prominent in the field. Along with Foster, Ann Daly (1987), Christy Adair (1992), Jane

Desmond (1993), Susan Manning (1993), Mark Franko (1995), Brenda Dixon Gottschild

(1996), and Randy Martin, (1998) are considered to be early innovators in this area of Dance

Studies. In addition to these researchers, scholars in dance anthropology such as, Yvonne

Daniel (1991), Andrée Grau (1993, 2007), Barbara Browning (1995) and Theresa Buckland,

(1999) who write using a social constructionist approach to explore how dance and

movement systems function within different societies and cultures were contributing to this

discourse in its early stages. The ideas and approaches that these academics explored in their

writing have been further developed by scholars such as, Helen Thomas (2003), Ananya

Chatterjea, (2004), Royona Mitra (2005), Sabine Sörgel ( 2007), Melissa Blanco Borelli

(2016), Sherril Dodds (2011), Prarthana Purkayastha (2014), Royona Mitra (2015), Clare

Croft (2017), Thea Barnes (2018), and Jo Hall (2018). In addition to this, there have been

edited collections by, Ellen W. Goellner and Jaqueline Shea Murphy (1995), Ann Cooper

Albright (1997), Ann Dils and Ann Cooper Albright (2001), and Thomas .F. DeFrantz with

Phillipa Rothfield (2016) that have also contributed to this discourse.

When reading practices of rooting that are choreographic and the spaces of performative

becoming that are therefore created, Fosters notion of corporeality positions choreography as

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a ‘site of meaning making’ (Foster, 1995b, p.x). Corporeality exemplifies the perspective of

the body put forward above, seeing dance as a site of ‘theorization of relationships between

body and self, gender, desire, individuality, community and nationality’ (Foster, 1995b,

p.xii). Through the body-in motion that has been crafted into choreography, Foster identifies

that dance becomes a ‘theoretical stance towards identity in all its registers’ (Foster, 1995b,

p.xii). Jane Desmond (1993), also outlines that movement is a tool by which we can

disseminate social identities (Desmond, 1993, pp.34-35). In this way, the multiplicity of

British Caribbean Diasporic identities (as demonstrated in chapter two) can be fully

encompassed by movement. Taking Foster’s notion of corporeality further, H Patten (2018)

coins the term corporeal dancing body when referring to African dancing bodies (Patten,

2018, p.105). Writing on movement within Dancehall, Patten intentionally emphasises the

duality of the body within his term to highlight the ‘paucity of written data of dance’ (Patten,

2018, p.105) combining the notion of the lived body from phenomenology (integration of

senses and actions with physicality) with the corporeal body of Thomas Fuchs (2002) (an

emotion that is a result of reflective engagement) (Patten 2018, 106). Using L’Antoinette

Stines (2005) notion of ancestral data and Theresa Buckland’s position on cultural memory

(2001), Patten defines the African corporeal dancing body’s engagement in dance as an

‘encoded and embodied idiom’ that ‘communicates of the African self, going beyond

symbolic readings of the performer's physicality’ (Patten, 2018, p.106). Through this

understanding the ‘corporeal dancing body reunites the physical body, reason and emotion, it

also integrates the spiritual coding embodied within “ancestral data” and the “cultural

memory” of a people handed down over generations as symbolic gestures which emotionally

tie a community to their environment’ (Patten, 2018, p.106). Chatterjea (2004) distinguishes

that ‘[…] while meaning does not exist in actions as such, movements are hardly performed

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or divorced from their history of culturally specific usage’ (Chatterjea, 2004, p.26). Within

Patten’s corporeal dancing body, there is the recognition of historical, cultural, and ancestral

embodied knowledge of movement that presents as ‘coding’ as the African corporeal dancing

body is engaged. Patten’s notion of the corporeal dancing body is particularly helpful to this

research as it engages specifically with African and African Diasporic bodies in movement,

and the ancestral data and cultural memory that is invoked as these bodies move. Through

Patten’s understanding of the African body-in-motion, there is a particular significance in

embodying movement for diasporic identities, that enables them to ‘tie’ themselves to what

Patten recognises as an ‘environment’ (Patten, 2018, p.106). The tying that Patten refers to

here is understood by this research as rooting. It is the images of splayed toes gripping the

earth (Walcott, 2005) and my own body spiralling amongst Atlantic waves that were

presented in the prologue of this thesis.

Through the engagement with ‘embodied representations of creolisation’, as Francis (2015)

notes, movement can generate an insurgent power that ‘help[s], de-commodify the body’ and

‘create poetics of negation’ (Francis, 2015, p.4), this engagement results in ‘alternative ways

of imagining/imaging the body’ (Francis, 2015, p.4) and therefore alternative ways of

knowing self, and to be known. In this way, movement becomes ‘a corporeal way of

knowing’ (Francis, 2015, p.11), an embodied knowledge. Sklar (1994) explains that ‘the

embodied knowledge is not words but sensations in which are stored intertwined corporeal,

emotional, and conceptual memories’ (Sklar, 1994, p.14). Therefore, through Patten’s

corporeal dancing body not only is ancestral data and cultural memory accessed, but -with

Sklar’s observation- ways of comprehending self and identity. It is through the crafting of

movement and performance on stage that this research suggests the case study artists enter a

‘becoming’ where alternative ways of knowing and imaging of self (Sklar, 1994; Francis,

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2015) occur. Becoming here is from Hall’s second model of cultural identity which sees

identities as simultaneously ‘becoming’ as they are ‘being’ (Hall, 1990, p.225). In this way,

as Hall suggests, performative becoming is a space where identities transcend time,

geography, and history. They are spaces in which identities are continually transforming,

belonging to both the future and the past (Hall, 1990, p.225). Hall describes this second

model of cultural identities as a way of repositioning ourselves (Hall, 1990, p.225). As these

artists engage with practices of rooting that are choreographic onstage, they can (re)position

their identities and contexts through performative becoming. Through this process, they have

the opportunity to be (re)created, affirmed and transformed.

As highlighted within its naming, performative becoming is also interested in the significance

of performing becoming. In line with postcolonial enquiry, performativity30 or the

“performative” is the questioning of what cultural aesthetics produce in regard to identity

construction (Haefeli, 2014, p.852). Spaces of performative becoming offer restoration,

(re)creation and (re)invention of identities which are channelled through transnational

rhizomatic connections that are made individually or through community.

Randy Martin’s notion of the composite body is particularly helpful when considering how

the performance of movement allows (in the case of this research) British Caribbean

Diasporic artists to perform the multiplicity of their identity which is often reduced and made

30 Originating in the field of linguistics (Austin, 1965; Searle, 1969), the concept of performativity has been expanded from linguistics to a number to of fields (Schechner, 1988; Phelan, 1993; Carlson, 1996; McKenzie, 2001; Conquergood, 2002). Most notably performativity has been expanded by the work of philosophers Jaques Derrida (1988) and Judith Butler (1990;1997) who have contributed to this discourse notions ideas relating to identity, gender, politics, and power.

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invisible within the dominant society (see Du Bois, 1903 double consciousness), Martin

explains,

Dance both appears in the conjecture of the imaginary and performative

space and puts the constitutive features of a composite body on display.

For dance is both a bodily practice that figures an imaginary world and a

momentary materialization through performance of social principles that

would otherwise remain implicit

(Martin, 1998, p.109)

It is through the performance of practices of rooting that are choreographic that British

Caribbean Diasporic artists presence the invisible, intangible, and complex aspects of their

identities. In this way, spaces of performative becoming are discursive performativities.

Mapping these presences within movement reveal embodied knowledge (Sklar, 1994) of

past, present and future that are stored within the corporeal dancing body (Patten, 2018).

Through the consideration of Francis’ (2015) observation, these maps provide alternative

ways of imagining British Caribbean Diasporic identities.

Like Bhabha’s (1994) Third Space, spaces of performative becoming intervene. Whilst

Bhabha’s Third Space exists between the expressions of two cultures, spaces of performative

becoming in the context of British Caribbean Diasporic identities exist amongst multiple

presences (Hall, 2015) as a signification of the creolised cultures that constitute them. In this

way spaces of performative becoming also function in the liminal (Turner, 1992, p.48),

allowing for the negotiation between these presences that goes beyond the conflicts of

essentialism, into an embodied reconciliation. Functioning in the liminal, spaces of

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performative becoming are embodied actions that give access to cultural memory (Buckland,

2001), ancestral data (Stines, 2005, p.45) and cultural knowledge (Sklar, 1994) in an

assemblage within the corporeal dancing body (Patten, 2018).

As the corporeal dancing body moves through performative becoming, not only does it create

and affirm British Caribbean Diasporic identities, but as it draws on historical, cultural, and

ancestral knowledge, it disrupts the centring of hegemonic narratives that prevail in theatre

spaces. Lefebvre (1991) identifies that ‘each living body is space and has its space: it

produces itself in space, and it also produces that space’ (Lefebvre, 1991, p.170). Through the

creation of spaces of performative becoming, corporeal dancing bodies act as sites of

resistance which subvert hegemonic power relationships (Haenfler, 2014) and narratives

through the becoming of identities.

In her book, Space Invaders (2004) Puwar uses Lefebvre’s observation to consider how

bodies that are othered disrupt spaces in which they are not expected,

Bodies do not simply move through spaces but constitute and are

constituted by them. Thus, it is possible to see how both the space and the

normative bodies of a specific space can become disturbed by the arrival

of Black and Asian bodies in occupations which are not historically and

conceptually marked out as their natural domain

(Puwar, 2004, p.32)

The presence of British Caribbean Diasporic bodies in the theatre creates a disruption.

Corporeal dancing bodies in this space challenge dominant knowledge systems as the

embodiment of multiplicity transcends borders and boundaries into the beyond. It is in

inhabiting the beyond (a space of liminality) that these artists encounter, produce and present

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‘newness’ as they ‘touch the future on its hither side’ (Bhabha, 1994, p.7). Through the

creation of spaces of performative becoming British Caribbean Diasporic artists reclaim the

complexities of their identities and channel their ‘truer selves’ (Du Bois, 1903, p.5)

dissolving the role of the other that society forces them to play. In conducting a reading of

spaces of performative becoming and the rooting that constitutes them, chapter nine of the

thesis will offer an interpretation of how identities are being formed and negotiated in the

work of the case study artists.

4.3 Conclusion

This chapter has conceptualised the notions of practices of rooting and spaces of performative

becoming, the key concepts of this thesis. It first theorised the notion of practices of rooting

as the engagement and creation of cultural aesthetics. Engaging with cultural aesthetics

allows for the producing and (re)creation of collective and individual identities. Using

metaphors from Omeros, Brathwaite’s tidalectics, and Deleuze and Guattari’s conception of

rhizome, the chapter characterised the submerged and fluid nature of rooting. It positioned

rooting as verb and process, differentiating it from static and fixed notions of roots. Through

the consideration of practices of rooting that are choreographic, the chapter developed the

notion of spaces of performative becoming as the second key concept of this thesis. It is

within liminal spaces of performative becoming that British Caribbean Diasporic artists draw

from ancestral data (Stines, 2005) and cultural knowledge (Buckland, 2001) to negotiate and

perform their identity with agency.

The next chapter is the first of four analysis chapters (one for each case study artist). These

chapters will consider how the case study artists are engaging with practices of rooting within

their choreographic work.

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Chapter 5: Reading Rooting in H Patten’s Ina De Wildanis

This is the first of four analysis chapters that will read the practices of rooting within the

chosen work of each case study artist. Using the framework of analysis outlined in chapter

one, these chapters will interpret how movement is functioning and embodied by each case

study artist enabling them to navigate and (re)create their identities. As mentioned earlier,

this research does not desire to catalogue aesthetics or suggest how one particular gesture

may reflect practices of rooting within British Caribbean Diasporic choreography. Instead,

these chapters will consider the whole choreography and focus on what (for me) are dominant

aspects that exemplify rooting as conceptualised in chapter four. Consequently, the following

chapters will take some time to describe the solo pieces concerned before closely considering

the aesthetics within particular phrases of movement in a piece. As this thesis is concerned

with identity, these chapters will also take the time to narrate the biographies of each case

study artist. Not only will this allow for the analysis and interpretations presented by this

research to be contextualised within the artist’s personal histories, but it will bring attention

to narratives, some of which have not been visible to the dance field.

These four chapters conduct a close reading of rooting in the case study artists’ work. The

following chapter (9) will conduct a wider comparative reading of the case study artists’

choreographic work, in addition to detailing the spaces of performative becoming each case

study artist is forming.

This first chapter will look at the practices of rooting in Ina De Wildanis (1991)

choreographed and performed by H Patten. It will focus on how spiritual and cultural

continuities work within the piece to form a practice of rooting through which Patten can

both create and conserve connections to his ancestral heritage. The intention here is not to

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reduce Patten’s practice to the interpretations presented, but to consider how this

choreography might highlight the notions of rooting as outlined in chapter four.

The first-generation artists, as discussed in chapter three, are the children of the initial West

Indians that arrived in Britain in the 1950s and the young adults that arrived from the

Caribbean shortly after. These artists were part of the first-generation to identify more closely

with the British identity and be known as Black British. The first-generation of British

Caribbean Diasporic artists is defined by this research as those who began producing and

creating work in the 1970s-1990s.

Born in the West Midlands, H Patten has spent his career as a multi-disciplinary artist

painting, creating sculptures, making films, writing, playing music, dancing, and creating

pieces of choreography that have Africanist and Caribcentric themes. Patten belongs to the

first-generation of British Caribbean Diasporic artists, defined by this research loosely as

those who began producing and creating work from the 1970s-1990s. As discussed in chapter

three, these are the children of the initial West Indians that arrived in Britain in the 1950s and

the young adults that arrived from the Caribbean shortly after. These artists were part of the

first-generation to identify more closely with the British identity and be known as Black

British.

This chapter will firstly detail Patten’s first solo piece of choreography Ina de Wildanis to

give an overall picture of the themes that Patten is engaging with through this work.

Secondly, this chapter will give a brief biography of Patten, leading up to the creation of Ina

de Wildanis to contextualise the work and gain a better understanding of Patten, his

philosophies, his relationship to his identity and his personal dance history. Finally, the

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chapter will focus on how spiritual and cultural continuities work within Ina de Wildanis to

produce a practice of rooting through which Patten negotiates his identity.

Ina de Wildanis is a dramatic piece of dance theatre set in two halves. The piece takes the

audience on a journey from Africa to the Caribbean and lands in England. A one-man show,

Patten plays many characters including the narrator, a revivalist, masquerade characters and a

newly arrived immigrant. These characters tell the stories and dance the traditions of the

people Patten is embodying through his choreography. This journey and the employment of

characters gives the piece a dynamism that keeps the audience on the edge of their seats. I

was able to access a recording of the piece to conduct this analysis.

The first half of the piece takes us from Africa to the Caribbean. The piece begins with Patten

on stage wearing a knitted red, orange-brown, and white bodysuit which starts at the ankles

and covers his head. His feet are covered with what looks like white socks and on top of his

head is a Likishi mask of the Zambian people which has long hair. Patten has bells tied to his

calves, and as he moves, he manipulates the rhythms that he creates to coincide with the three

drummers who sit stage right. Patten wears a wrapper (a piece of African wax cloth) around

his waist, and above that a piece of white cotton material wraps around his navel. At the back

of this piece of material, a series of rags create a tail, which shakes as he moves, emphasising

the movement of the hips. Other than the drummers, the stage is bare, except a series of

African wax material that seems to be hanging as a backdrop behind Patten as he dances.

As the Likishi dance comes to an end, Patten begins to introduce songs and a children’s game

from Malawi. Patten does this dressed in a black tracksuit which has a colourful “V” shaped

pattern across the shoulders, ending in the middle of his chest. Patten directs these songs and

prose to the audience in a didactic fashion, explaining how traditions, rhythms and movement

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are passed on to a child through the devices of songs and games. As Patten sings the call of

the song, the musicians respond. The song continues, and two of the musicians join Patten in

a rhythmic jumping children’s game from Malawi. The game acts as a transition into the

second masked dance of the piece, the Gule Wamkulu also known as the Big Dance from the

central region of Malawi. The Gule Wamkulu, a ritual dance, is often performed by people

wearing character masks or disguised as animals in an effort to restore peace and harmony

between God the creator and man (Mtonga, 2006, p.60). Here, we see Patten dressed as a

character wearing beige burlap trousers and a large long-sleeved top. Patten wears a mask on

his face that has a large mane of material and cotton surrounding it, and the same material is

also found in strips around his waist. Patten completely embodies the character of the spirit.

Dancing with a stick, the spirit seems to embody an older man at times, before going into fast

dynamic phrases, the pace set by continuous drumming from the musicians.

Patten uses the Malawian/Zambian healing dance the Vimbuza to bring us out of Africa and

into the Caribbean. Patten does this by telling the audience a story. Throughout the piece,

Patten uses stories, poetry and letters read aloud to help push the narrative along. At this

point, Patten tells the story of John Do Good, a skilled musician who was taken from Africa

to the Caribbean. The story comes to a dramatic end with the master killing himself. Patten

transitions from the story of John Do Good into the Kumina dance of Jamaica bringing the

first half of the show to a close. Patten uses the movement found within the African derived

religion Kumina to contrast the Africanist aesthetic of Vimbuza that he previously performed.

Here we see Patten wearing a brown and cream hat, with the same material tied around his

right bicep, around his neck and chest are beads and across his torso and left shoulder and

arm, a piece of red material is wrapped. A different wrapper to what he was wearing in the

Likishi dance is tied around his waist and on top of this a skirt of long feathers covering the

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top half of his legs. The musicians begin a faster Kumina rhythm on the drums which initiates

Patten into the Kumina dance, as Patten dances he leads a call with the musicians responding.

Patten wears bells around his ankles, in the same manner as the Likishi, he manipulates the

sound in syncopation with the drummers as he dances.

The second half of the show takes the audience on a journey from the Caribbean to the

United Kingdom using dance to exemplify the relationships that exist between the British

Isles and the Caribbean. The show resumes with the dances of Jonkonnu, a masquerade

parade that is held in contact zones in the Caribbean and the United States (Bibly, 2013b).

Jonkonnu was used as an example in chapter three to demonstrate how the enslaved Africans

created dances of satire to express their anger. The parade has Akan origins and tells the story

of John Canoe, who was an Akan soldier for the German army until his mutinous betrayal led

to victory for the Ashanti and Nzima troops who took territory from the Germans. The news

of the victory spread across the contact zones and continues to be celebrated across the

diaspora. Patten is dressed as the character Pitchy Patchy, head to toe Patten wears colourful

rags, including a long mask which covers his face. Patten jumps and skips across the stage,

his movement is jovial, and has a lightness and buoyancy to it, representing the celebration of

the Jonkonnu parade.

Patten transitions from the movement of Jonkonnu into another story, wearing brown dress

pants and a yellow string vest. Patten as narrator tells the audience of the founder of

Bedwardism, Alexander Bedward, one of the most successful Revival preachers in Jamaica,

who despite his huge following, ended up in a mental health facility after an unsuccessful

attempt to ascend to heaven like Elijah (Satchell, 2013). The film of this performance cuts

from the story of Bedward to Patten dressed in a Revival uniform (a red and yellow gown)

with a staff in his hand. The musicians play a fast rhythm on the drums and Patten seems to

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transcend into a state of Myal31 as his dancing becomes frenzied and he speaks in tongues.

Here Patten embodies movement that is evoked through the spirit within Revivalist church

services in Jamaica. This Revivalist section is interluded with another story. This time it is

about a witch, a young girl and some rice and peas. Patten ends the story and transitions into

Reggae-based movement whilst the musicians chant and play a rhythmic Nyabinghi rhythm

of the Rastafarian religion. It is within this section that we see Patten’s movement shift away

from the Africanist aesthetics that have been dominant throughout the piece towards an

aesthetic that is more closely aligned with Western Modernist and Contemporary Dance

aesthetics. His movement has a lyricism that might be associated with the contemporary

aesthetic, with more elongated extensions of the arms across the body, and the throwing back

of the head, creating an emphasis of the body as the arms move across it. Patten juxtaposes

this by working the traditional African aesthetic into the Nyabinghi rhythm through his

movement. Towards the end of this section, the drummers change from the Nyabinghi

rhythm to a Dancehall/Reggae riddim, and Patten once again changes his movement,

incorporating both the modern Caribbean Dancehall aesthetic and some of the traditional

Africanist aesthetics that we have seen earlier on in the piece.

As the Nyabinghi section ends, Patten transitions the audience to England with a ‘Letter to

Mama’ in which Patten plays the character of a young Caribbean man writing a letter back to

his mother in Jamaica. Within his letter, the character tells his mother all about his experience

in England thus far. England is not as he expected it to be; he is confronted with racism and

31 Myalism in the context of Jamaica, is known as an African derived tradition, which is understood by scholars of anthropology, sociology, and religion as a representation of ‘good magic’ (Stewart, 2005, p.10). The term Myal is more commonly used today to refer to spirit possession (Bibly, 2013a, p.305).

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rejection. The character tells his mother how he has found comfort in attending church every

Sunday in a friend’s front room, as the churches in England have closed the door on the black

community. It is within the letter to Mama that a liturgical-like dance is performed by Patten

whilst a spiritual song/prayer is sung by the musicians. The movement here is dominated by a

modernist expressive movement vocabulary, and there is a direct correlation between the

movement and the words of the song/prayer. The sense of religious commitment in a foreign

land transitions us into the final sections of the piece.

At this point on the film, the piece cuts to the musicians playing a fast-paced rhythm, and we

arrive in the carnival section of the piece. Patten dances a series of movements that have been

presented throughout the show thus far, from Africa to the Caribbean, an amalgamation of

movement aesthetics manifest through his body. Patten then walks towards some African

wax material that has been hanging at the back of the stage. What has been the set transforms

into a carnival puppet, which Patten puts on. The puppet brings together the Caribbean

tradition with the African aesthetic. Patten continues to dance as the puppeteer, his

movements controlling the dance of the puppet.

The very final section of Ina de Wildanis sees the musicians play a rhythm whilst singing the

lyrics, “We are one, we are one, the motherland, living in peace, living in peace”. As the

musicians repeat the refrain, we see Patten, dressed in brown trousers and a white shirt, dance

the Likishi dance from the first section of the piece with a small feathered whip in his hand,

Patten repeats the circular hip motions from the Likishi, the choreography is recognisable,

except it has a different emphasis when danced out of the masquerade attire. Patten repeats

circular motions with his hips, arms, and wrists. At intervals, Patten flicks the wrist of the

hand that is holding the feathered whip. As Patten ends, he continues the circular motion,

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bringing his forearm around his head and down over his face as the musicians finish their

song simultaneously and the piece ends.

When initially reading Ina de Wildanis, it became evident that there are themes present in the

production and the choreography. There is a subversive use of language present in the use of

African languages and creole forms of English; the British accent only used to represent an

oppressive force. The prominent use of Polycentric, Polyrhythmic, Epic Memory,

Improvisation, Multiple Foci32 and other Africanist movement aesthetics is a dominant

feature of the choreography, including the fusion of dances from across Africa and the

Caribbean, and the use of Curvilinear pathways on the body and stage. We see the didactic

use of storytelling, song and voice that allows the audience to contextualise what they are

experiencing on stage. The heavy use of characterisation aids in guiding the audience through

the three geographical locations that the piece is set in, as well as offering connections for the

audience to gain an understanding of the intricacies that exist between the narratives being

told. The analysis of Ina de Wildanis will briefly touch on these aspects of the production,

however, what is most apparent for this research in relation to identity construction,

affirmation and practices of rooting within Ina de Wildanis is the continuity of culture and

spiritualities presented through movement.

The skills Patten has gained throughout his career in dance have given him access to spiritual

and cultural practices from across presence Africaine, Européenne and Américaine, (Hall,

2015). The presence of these practices within Ina de Wildanis forms a channel of continuity

32 See Appendix B

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both for Patten as a performer and as an experience for those in the audience. The continuity

within Ina de Wildanis is not the transmission of heritage from one generation to another, it is

the negotiation of ancestral and historical aesthetics that constitute a practice of rooting

identity. As discussed in chapter four through the movement of Brathwaite’s tidalectics, this

is not a “coming back to”. It is a continuum of amalgamated practices that transcends place

and time, and as a consequence belongs in the future as well as the past (Hall, 1990, p.225).

To understand the context of Ina de Wildanis further, we will now consider Patten’s personal

history. Born in England twenty days after his mother arrived from Jamaica, Patten spent his

early life in Birmingham. This was a ‘big deal’ for Patten who explained to me,

I wish I had been born home [Jamaica] and then come here because that

would have given me a different identity’. I have always felt I am kind of

floating in the middle. That’s why I did my first production…because I

feel like I am stuck in this wilderness, where I have half bunches of keys,

but not a full set for anywhere, because I know I don’t have a full set for in

Britain here… [A]t the time I used to romantically feel that if I just go

home everything will be perfect and when I went home, I realised I don’t

have a full set of keys for there either

(Patten, 2017b)

For Patten, being born in Britain robbed him of the transmissions of cultural knowledge that

is only gained from growing up in a place. This is not to say that Caribbean cultural

knowledge is not shared with British Caribbean Diasporic children, as established in the

previous chapter; this often occurs through different practices of rooting. There is, however, a

shift in understanding, a different point of connection and association on the rhizomatic stem

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of their identity than those who were raised in the Caribbean, as demonstrated by Premdas’

typologies of Caribbean identities. Patten’s childhood was rich with occasions in which

cultural knowledge of the Caribbean (specifically Jamaica) was absorbed. Patten’s parents’

house was at the centre of a strong Caribbean community, it was the place where family

members and friends would gather, put on the gramophone and dance to the latest hits from

Jamaica in the ‘spick and span’ (Patten, 2017b) front room. As the eldest boy, Patten was

often privileged to be invited into these spaces whilst the younger children stayed in the

living room. Patten would select and play music, serving drinks to the adults whilst they

danced (Patten, 2017b). Access to this space meant that as a young boy Patten heard ‘big

people talk’ (Patten, 2017b), conversations of home (Jamaica), stories and anecdotes. Patten

would watch the adults dance and the way that they would interact with each other,

occasionally he would even be invited to join in with the dancing by an auntie (Patten,

2017b). Within his academic writing Patten recognises that access to this space and others

like this was where he received a ‘strong sense of [his] Jamaican heritage, identity and

culture’ (Patten, 2017a, p.109).

The sense of home being somewhere other than Britain was made even more apparent to

Patten through the way that his mother positioned herself. Patten told me that although his

mother lived her life physically in Britain, he saw her as being emotionally and mentally in

Jamaica (Patten, 2017b). Perhaps because of this, Patten himself identified Britain as being a

foreign land and not home. Although a British citizen by birth, Patten struggled to claim

ownership of Britishness (Patten, 2017b). This was during a time when his peers were

identifying themselves as the new Black British generation. Patten told me, ‘I always saw

myself as a Jamaican living in Britain, so therefore I refused to take on the term British, I

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never saw myself as British…’ (Patten, 2017b). Home for Patten was not a location that he

inhabited physically, but a space which he sought to enter through practices of rooting.

This is particularly evident in the way Patten’s interests developed as a young adult. The

music and dance scenes that surrounded soul music, Reggae and Calypso were all central to

Patten’s life during the 1970s (Ramdhanie, 2017, p.86) and thus so was dancing. Patten

explained to me that as a consequence of his mother being a dressmaker within the

community, his family regularly attended birthday parties and weddings. Patten was known

as an excellent social dancer, and according to him, the life of the party (Patten, 2017b). He

told me, ‘… So any party that they can’t get me and her [a family friend], they are going to

try and change the date to fit us, because they want us… they know that from we are there

that we are going to get the party singing!’ (Patten, 2017b).

The centring of African, Caribbean, and Diasporic cultures within Patten’s life goes beyond

practices of rooting found within social and popular contexts of the community and spills

over into political consciousness. It was during Patten’s teenage years in the 1970s that there

was an increased transnational Black political consciousness across the Black Atlantic

(Gilroy, 1993) as discussed in chapter three. The environment that this created would see

Patten join the Afro-Peoples Organisation (APO) (Ramdhanie, 2017, p.87). It would be

within APO that Patten would experience his first public performance at one of their events

for African Liberation Day (Ramdhanie, 2017, p.87). Joining APO heightened Patten’s

social, cultural, and political awareness, leading him to later join the African Liberation

Movement (ALM). So committed was Patten to the philosophies of the group, that he would

travel up and down England to attend political and social events ran by the organisation. The

Pan-African and Black consciousness movements in Britain gave many young British

Caribbean Diasporic people an informed sense of self. This was not only an outlet in which to

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position their frustration of the system but a channel in which British Caribbean Diasporic

people could position their identity within the wider African diaspora and in relation to

Africa. It was through the political and the artistic that British Caribbean Diasporic people

orientated their identity (Gilroy, 2007, p.257) and asserted themselves beyond the racism and

rejection they were experiencing in Britain; placing their locality as elsewhere. When I

questioned Patten on his relation to Britishness, Patten admitted to me, ‘I never felt home

here, because I grow up [with] skin heads and the Teddy boy them a run me down, right until

now where it’s happening all over again with the Brexit thing. So, we never welcome’

(Patten, 2019). It is this reality of not being welcome in Britain, despite the burgundy

passport, that further encouraged transnational engagement with the many factions of identity

that make up British Caribbean Diasporic identities. This is evident within the community,

Patten’s life through his career, and in Ina de Wildanis.

During the final year of his bachelor’s degree in visual arts based in Cardiff, Patten decided

to write his dissertation on ‘the nature of Caribbean art’ (Patten, 2017b). As part of the

process of writing this dissertation, Patten saved enough money to go to Jamaica to research

art from the island. Whilst there, he attended the Cultural Training Centre (Now called the

Edna Manley College of Visual and Performing Arts). Strictly a visual artist at the time,

Patten spent most of his time within the art school. On occasion, Patten and his peers would

visit the other areas of the centre to sketch what was happening. It was here that Patten was

introduced to formal training of Caribbean dance forms as he sketched the dancers in training

at the dance school.

Attending this Cultural Training Centre, expanded Patten’s understanding of different

Caribbean art forms, and he realised that it was not enough for him to only consider

Caribbean visual art in Britain in isolation; he also needed to consider how Caribbean visual

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art was positioned amongst the other Caribbean art forms. Patten began to look at different

expressions of Caribbean music and theatre33 within Britain, and of course, dance. When

looking at Caribbean dance in Britain, Patten observed a class that was run by The Andersons

(Barrington, Angela, Lorna, and Pauline) under their company Ekomé National Dance

Company (discussed in chapter three). After observing Ekomé, Patten had the opportunity to

learn African drumming whilst he was home from Cardiff with his family in Birmingham. It

was here that he was told by his teacher that ‘if you really want to be a good drummer you

have to be a dancer as well’ (Patten, 2017b). However, at this time Patten was not interested

in dancing. Eventually, a friend would convince him to attend a dance class, and after a series

of mishaps he would attend his first African dance class, this is when Patten would first meet

Bob Ramdhanie.

It was during these classes that his teachers and Ramdhanie recognised Patten to be a natural

dancer. Patten would pick up the essence and the steps of different dance forms quickly and

embody them with ease. After recognising this talent, Ramdhanie enticed Patten to train with

his new company Danse De L’Afrique over the summer as he was bringing over an artist

named Nii Yartey34 (who would become a future mentor and collaborator for Patten).

Ramdhanie told Patten, that if he trained with him over the summer, he would take him to

Ghana where he was organising a six-month training programme for the dancers in the

company. Having dreamt about Africa as a child, Patten did not want to give up this

33 Such as The Black Theatre Co-Op, Louvture theatre and Timber Theatre Company. 34 Francis Nii Yartey was the director and choreographer of Ghana Dance Ensemble from 1976-1993. When the ensemble became the National Dance Company of Ghana, Yartey was its first director until 2006 when he retired (Nii-Yartey, 2016).

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opportunity, and so he trained with Ramdhanie and Yartey over the summer and became one

of the founding members of Danse De L’Afrique (1982) (Patten, 2017b).

Danse de L’Afrique’s members (as referred to in chapter three) were predominantly

Caribbean apart from the Ghanaian master drummer George Dzikunu. The company

performed a range of dance styles including dances from around Africa. In the early eighties,

Patten recalls there were a few other dance companies who were training in African dance

styles (as referred to in chapter three).

Training in Africa as Danse De L’Afrique sought to do raised expectations of the company

who were predominately Caribbean. Patten told me, ‘when we went to Ghana and we were

training, it was very important that we spent the time and learnt it properly because there was

going to be a lot of criticism of us if we didn’t learn it properly. It was about learning not

only the dance, but you have to learn the culture, you have to learn the language, and you

have to learn how to negotiate yourself around’ (Patten, 2017b). It was with this attitude

towards his time in Ghana that Patten sought to fully immerse himself in the Ghanaian

culture.

On the day of his summer graduation in 1983, Patten and the members of Danse De

L’Afrique flew to Ghana. There were ten of them in total, and they had raised funds for the

trip through performing, in addition to receiving some money from Birmingham City

Council. The news of the council’s support for the company hit the headlines of the local

newspaper with “Rain Dance on the Rates” (Patten, 2017b). Patten recalled those first

moments of stepping off the plane on Ghanaian soil to me,

…and they opened the door, and it is just like when you reach home in

Jamaica, and the heat hit you, and you think, yes I reach home now, not

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knowing we had something else to come because when we come down off

the plane, go through immigration… it was just a spectacle of sound and

dance, because the Ghana Dance Ensemble came to greet us, and they did

a full performance for us, and it was like the prodigal son come home.

That’s how we felt… it made us feel like we were royalty or something.

To have the national dance company come and greet you and perform for

you at the airport

(Patten, 2017b)

Although Patten had never visited Ghana or West Africa, from the moment he arrived a sense

of ‘home’ was experienced. This was in stark contrast to the reaction from the local

newspaper which, with a provocative title, insinuated that the ‘rain dance’ the company was

going to study was paid for by the taxpayer- this was inaccurate. It is through aggressive and

passive-aggressive violence like this newspaper article that British Caribbean Diasporic

identities have been and remain in precarity. Patten explained to me that living in Britain,

there is ‘always a guard that has to be up’ (Patten, 2017b), stating that he is comfortable

being home, whether it be in the Caribbean or Africa (Patten, 2017b). It was through this trip

to Ghana that this revelation would have had its inception. Patten’s feeling of alienation

within Britain is reflective of Du Bois’ double consciousness in which British Caribbean

Diasporic identities are positioned as simultaneously inside and outside of the dominant

culture. This sense of estrangement and double consciousness is present within Ina de

Wildanis, and as a theoretical characteristic of British Caribbean Diasporic identities it will be

explored further in chapter nine.

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Despite Patten’s initial resistance to engaging within Caribbean and African dance forms,

dance would eventually become a tool that Patten used to position his identity. Dance as a

tool functioned in a similar way to the offerings of the APO, ALM and the richness of the

music being produced in the 1970s. Dance created opportunities through which to connect

with cultural heritage and go deeper within that through the learning of the ‘traditional’ or the

folk practices of his African and Caribbean heritages. Patten’s trip to Ghana only increased

the depth at which Patten was able to access cultural knowledge, which he could then

negotiate through his experience as a British Caribbean Diasporic person, or as he calls

himself a Jamaican living in Britain. We can identify this first trip to the African continent as

a time when Patten began to experience cultural continuity through corporeality and

embodiment. His previous intellectual and embodied knowledge of the Caribbean met with

the language, the music, and other social practices of Ghana. When thinking about how this

cultural continuity is expressed within Ina de Wildanis, it is important to recognise the

opportunities Patten has had to immerse himself in various African and Caribbean cultures

and how these opportunities have provided Patten with specific embodied cultural knowledge

which he negotiates through movement practice. It is through his own movement practice that

Patten positions his British Caribbean Diasporic experience in relation to embodied cultural

knowledge.

After six months of training with the Ghana Dance Ensemble and Nii Yartey on the

University of Ghana campus, Patten became one of the strongest dancers within Danse de

L’Afrique (Patten, 2017b). The training was intense, with the dancers working six days a

week from eight in the morning until four in the afternoon and then from eight until ten in the

evening, the group would continue rehearsing. For the initial months, the group were almost

exclusively drilled in the Bawa Dance from the people in the upper western region of Ghana,

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‘… for about four months we did Bawa every day. But you see what happened, what we

didn’t know was that Nii had a system where we were learning one dance, one dance until we

knew the nuances so well that when he start teaching us the other dancers… we just picked

them up like that, because it had unlocked something’ (Patten, 2017b). It was during his time

in Ghana that Patten began to research movement, for a self-directed project Patten conducted

‘deep’ research into Adzogobo Adjebo dance. It was through this project that Patten began to

recognise himself as a researcher (Akinleye, 2016).

Whilst Patten was learning the dances of Ghana, he was also learning the drumming that went

with those dances. This would eventually mean that his drumming was equal to his dancing,

and on his return to Britain, he began to drum with George Dzikunu (Patten, 2017b). It was

shortly after their return from Ghana that Ramdhanie and a few other key figures at the time

(The Andersons, Lanzell and George Dzikunu) would form the Black Dance Development

Trust (1985), of which Ramdhanie was the director (chapter three). Through the Black Dance

Development Trust summer schools Patten was able to continue his training, learning dance

forms from across Africa and the Caribbean whilst working with some of the most prominent

choreographers and teachers in African and Caribbean dances at the time. This included:

Professor Albert Mawere Opoku (Ghana), Monty Williams (Grenada), Patsy Ricketts

(Jamaica) and Sheila Barnet (Jamaica).

After Danse de L’Afrique folded in 1984, Patten joined Adzido Pan-African Ensemble,

which was to become the ‘flagship’ African dance company in the United Kingdom

(Ramdhanie, 2017, p.87). Patten became one of the company’s principal dancers and

performed in their initial three productions, In the Village of Africa (1985), Coming Home

(1988) and Under African Skies (1990). It was during his time at Adzido that Patten’s

training would broaden even further as George Dzikunu would travel across Africa and bring

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‘top tutors’ (Patten, 2017b) back with him to teach the dancers the steps for their next

production. His time at Adzido allowed Patten to train in dance forms from Ghana, Nigeria,

Kenya, Senegal, Tanzania, and South Africa.

In 1990, Patten would go back to Africa following an invitation from the British Council. He

was to be the choreographer for a collaboration project between the British Council and the

Malawian government. This project sought to revive the Kwacha National Cultural Troupe,

now known as the Malawi National Dance Troupe. This was Patten’s first full-length

production, and his brief was to take the national dances from the stage to the field. Patten

created a few productions for the troupe including Chizengala, Ndkula and Chinknakhali

(1990). Patten took the troupe consisting of forty performers from around Malawi, with two

members from each province (Ramdhanie, 2017, p.87), on its first national tour. After the

national tour, Patten took some of the members on their first international tour. After an

initial successful tour, Patten continued to work in Malawi. This experience would allow him

to choreograph work in Ghana, Zambia, Zimbabwe, Sierra Leone, and Nigeria. Having

briefly outlined Patten’s personal history, this chapter will now consider the cultural and

spiritual continuities that constitute Patten’s practice of rooting within Ina de Wildanis.

There are two clear examples within Ina de Wildanis where we can see how Patten’s training

and choreographic experience enables him to access various Africanist, Western, and

Caribbean dance aesthetics through which he makes embodied connections to the past,

present, and future through cultural and spiritual continuities. These examples are, the

Vimbuza to Kumina section, and the Nyabinghi to Dancehall to the modern section.

The Vimbuza dance is a healing dance from Malawi/Zambia and occurs in the piece after

Patten, wearing a maned mask, finishes the Gule Wamkulu in the first half of the piece. The

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transition from the Vimbuza to the Kumina, interluded with the story of John Do Good and

his master, presents an example of continuity that gives us insight into how Patten negotiates

his identity. It exemplifies how Patten uses his dance training and his embodied knowledge to

create a practice of rooting that prioritises the connection between African and Caribbean

traditions and his own identity.

Patten’s movement, during the healing Vimbuza dance, is centred in the hips, which do not

circle slowly like in the Likishi that has come before, but vigorously shake, vibrating from

side to side causing a ripple to affect his whole body. Patten slowly moves around with his

hips continuously shaking, his arms extended at either side, slightly flexed at the elbow and

held up. A gesture of both invitation and display. As his body and hips shake Patten’s head

and neck move accordingly, sometimes replicating the vigorous nature of the movement of

his hips, sometimes slowly moving from side to side. At one point, Patten travels with his

back to the audience upstage centre, and then suddenly turns to face the audience, continuing

his vibrating hip movements. It is at this moment we see Patten’s head tip back, and his eyes

roll into his head for a moment, as if being taken into the spirit. Bringing his head forward

and directing his gaze to the ground, Patten changes from this hip vibration, into a fast but

small rolling/ circling of his hips, torso forward, with his knees flexed. This fast rolling is

replicated in the arms and hands, as they hang at his torso, creating small circular movements,

at times his left arm shoots up, and the phrase will begin again.

After Patten has finished telling the story of John Do Good, he transitions into the Kumina

section. Patten at this point is dressed as before, except that now the red material that was

once around his torso, is wrapped around his waist. The musicians begin a faster Kumina

rhythm on the drums which initiates Patten into the Kumina dance, as he dances Patten leads

a sung call with the drummers responding. As he sings, Patten does the foot shuffling that is

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synonymous with Kumina. Patten moves across the stage shifting his weight from one foot to

the other, to create a shuffle that moves him on the downbeat from the drummer’s rhythm,

Patten’s weight also drops slightly at the same time that he is shifting his weight. This weight

drop is created by the slight flexing of both the knees as he is conducting the shuffles.

Initially, as Patten shuffles he moves stage right towards the musicians, as he does this his

arms are flexed at the elbows and are loosely held at the torso. At this point, a circular motion

occurs with Patten’s torso whilst his legs and feet shuffle, as this is happening Patten changes

the direction of the shuffle to stage left. Then, Patten’s torso shifts slightly forward, and his

arms swing and extend across his body for two counts before swinging to the opposite side as

he shuffles towards the left. As his arms swing initially his right arm is flexed at the elbows,

and his wrist is relaxed in a natural position. His arms alternate as he continues to move to the

left.

Patten continues with the Kumina movement vocabulary across the stage, throughout, his

pathways seem to be spontaneous and flow into one another, this brings a sense of how the

dance forms that Patten is using are performed in their original context, which is not as a

form of entertainment, but as an expression with a purpose for specific communities. Patten,

who may well have set the pathways, emulates this on stage by allowing the pathways he has

chosen to naturally flow into one another producing a seemingly spontaneous effect.

Aesthetically, when we consider these two dances, we can see similarities in the division of

Polyrhythms of the body, the heat of the movement focused on the faster moving lower half

of the body in the hips and feet, with the arms providing accents and momentum. There is a

very similar use of the hips between the two dances. We see a fast-horizontal shaking of the

hips with the torso flexed within Vimbuza. In Kumina, this horizontal shaking is slower and

more subtle and is accompanied by the accented arm movement as described above.

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The recognition of the use of the hips within these two dances, one being routed in the

Jamaican Kikongo culture and the other in the Malawi/Zambian culture, is not so much of an

“ah-ha” moment of origins found on the continent, but an identification of the embodied map

that Patten holds, and how this understanding of the many cultures that contribute to his

identity, creates his choreography. The Vimbuza-Kumina performance traces an embodied

rhizomatic mapping (Deleuze and Guattari, 1987, p.14) and points to the continuum

(Brathwaite, 1984) between Africa, the Caribbean, and the presence Africaine that exists as

part of Patten’s identity. The dances, in the same way, that the sea provides a means for

Achillies to journey into an imaginative origin, allow Patten to move through cultures and

traditions as entry points into his multiplicitous identity. The framing of the Vimbuza-

Kumina as dances of multiple entry points resists the urge to essentialise the origins of the

aesthetics present, namely the vibration of the hips, and instead allows for the identification

of a continuity that is present, but in the rhizomatic understanding, does not necessarily

connect in the same way or lead to the same beginnings. Patten’s utilisation of these dances

does not place him as African or Caribbean, nor does it position him everywhere, nowhere, or

in-between these cultures, but among them all Patten is able to negotiate his identity. In our

embodied exchange, after Patten had physically responded to my invitation to dance himself,

he revealed to me, ‘ I have all these identities that come together in different ways at different

times, and I own them in different ways at different times’ (Patten, 2019). Patten’s awareness

of his multiplicity and the manifestation of this within his choreography is demonstrative of a

practice of rooting that is making multiple connection points across a network of different

cultures and time. Patten’s experience in dance allows him to easily manoeuvre the different

parts of his identity through movement. Like Achilles and Hector's canoe, movement acts as

a vehicle through which rooting/routing across complex networks can occur. When thinking

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about how this choreography acts as a practice of rooting for Patten, it is therefore, more

significant for this research to consider what Patten is rooting towards, rather than where he is

rooting from, as identified in chapter four.

The answer to this may lie in the second example of continuity. During the second half of the

show, we see Patten use the rhythmic drumming of the Nyabinghi to accompany a more

modern Westernised aesthetic. This is fused with a Caribbean sensibility, as the rhythms of

the drum change to give a punchier vibe the movement leans towards an Africanist aesthetic

again.

Through the use of the rhythmic drumming and the vocal accompaniment, Patten indicates

the many cultural identities within him. The initial rhythm performed by the drummers, the

Nyabinghi, the perpetual heartbeat sound of the Rastafarian religion, invokes an enduring

rhythmic grounding under the musician’s song. This grounding does not invoke the type of

Africanist leaning movement from Patten that we have seen before, but instead, Patten rides

the repetitive beat present within the Nyabinghi rhythm with a dance aesthetic that utilises a

poetics of flow with wide extensions of the arms into controlled contractions of the arms and

torso. This type of movement aligns towards a Modern Western aesthetic.

Patten’s positioning of two cultural aesthetics that are easily identifiable would on paper

produce a juxtaposition or a tension. However, the musicality employed, and the embodiment

of Patten’s performance does not yield such tension. The use of the weight of his head along

with the musicality keeps a sense of the other, within what might be assumed to be the

movement aesthetic. This is also present within the slight waving of the torso that occurs as

he moves across the stage. When considering the composition of this particular section of Ina

de Wildanis Glissant’s conceptualisation of relational identity helps us understand the pulling

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together of these aesthetics. Here, Patten is defining an identity for himself that is emerging,

extending, and becoming through the relationship with the Other (Glissant, 1997, p.11). It is

through this practice of rooting that Patten creates a space of performative becoming (chapter

nine).

Patten negotiates his multiplicity in relation to the other and to the cultural ‘keys’ that he

holds, transcending notions of nation and boundaries (Gilroy, 1993). This is embodied within

the above example which demonstrates a negotiation between presence Africaine,

Européenne, and Américaine in Patten’s identity. The African rooting of the Nyabinghi

rhythm represents an inherently Caribbean culture, through negotiating this rhythm with

Africanist and of Europeanist movement aesthetics, Patten demonstrates the ways in which

these presences are making connections within his identity, creating a continuity.

As the section progresses, Patten yet again embodies this continuity, over the voices of the

musicians singing “no matter where you come from you are an African” Patten centres the

presence Africaine in his movement. The punchier rhythms that are present at this point

reflect the modern Caribbean and are akin to the strong staccato rhythms of Dancehall. The

grounded Africanist vibrations are coupled with the Dancehall attitude within the short

section that brings this movement phrase to an end. This is another example of the continuity

present within Patten’s practice of rooting in this piece. We see Patten embodying these

cultures through performance as a negotiation of self that is not sought to be resolved. As

Patten points out, he is able to access these different identities at any point, shifting his

position accordingly (Patten, 2019). Cultural continuity embodied as movement by Patten is

reflective of a practice of rooting that is not fixed to or from a specific point but has a

nonlinearity like the nature of tidalectics and the rhizome. Observing the negotiation of

Patten’s movement allows us to recognise his body as a corporeal dancing body (Patten,

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2018), which simultaneously accesses cultural memory and ancestral data as past, a diverse

present, and an imagined future — producing alternative ways of being (Francis, 2015) and

knowing.

In addition to the cultural continuities present within Ina de Wildanis, there is also a clear

spiritual continuity present both implicitly and explicitly throughout the piece. Patten’s

physical embodiment of various African and African Diasporic aesthetics goes beyond the

physical, his embodiment of these aesthetics gives way to a spiritual understanding and

‘guidance’ (Ramdhanie, 2005, p.289) which Patten recognises as the force behind his

movement. The programme of Ina de Wildanis reads,

The spiritual power of African culture was carried with the African slaves

to the Caribbean where it met and merged with European culture on

foreign soil. Through migration, this same force moved to Britain where

Caribbean Africans came into contact with traditional African and

European culture … the result … new explosions of artistic energy

(Patten 1992, p.3 in Ramdhanie, 2005, p.286)

Within Ina de Wildanis, we see these spiritual continuities from Africa, carried in both

Patten’s body and voice. This is evident through Patten’s utilisation of the Likishi incantation

song and dance for the opening of the piece, and the use of the Vimbuza dance, Gule

Wamkulu, Revival, and Kumina dances which all have specific spiritual and cultural

significances in their original contexts. These spiritual continuities are also present in the

interluding stories which mention witchcraft, Bedwardism and Christianity. As Patten

embodies these forms his performance alludes to Myal, speaking in tongues, and references

to Rastafarianism.

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The spiritual elements within Ina de Wildanis mostly stem from African and Caribbean

spiritual practices, as well as Caribbean/African Diasporic expressions of Christianity. The

presence of these spiritualities is not by chance, but again an indicator of Patten’s British

Caribbean Diasporic identity and the amalgamation of spiritual practices that Patten draws

from his personal life. Patten was raised in the Pentecostal Church of God, his parents being

devout Christians (Ramdhanie, 2005, p.280). In a conversation with Bob Ramdhanie, Patten

stressed the significance of this experience in shaping his identity, ‘[…] in Church of God, I

felt I belonged. The Elders and others use to sing in harmony, and I always felt that there was

a spirit with us. Singing in the round was enjoyable because you were getting a kind of

energy from each other’ (Bob Ramdhanie Interview with Patten 2003 in Ramdhanie, 2005,

p.281). In addition to this, the philosophies of Rastafarianism led Patten to accept his African

heritage and find himself within the African identity from a young age, his time with the

APO and ALM further solidified this feeling and Patten accepted Africanist practices and

beliefs as his own and integrated this with his Christian beliefs (Ramdhanie, 2005, p.286).

When considering Patten’s approach to his belief system and spiritual practices, it is not

surprising to see these elements present within Ina de Wildanis. The way that spiritual

continuities are present within Patten’s piece reflects a space that is held by British Caribbean

Diasporic individuals that always calls for a consideration of the presence Africaine,

Américaine and Européenne and the creolised Caribbean culture. It is this reasoning that led

to chapter two of the research identifying British Caribbean Diasporic identities as being on

an unceasing continuum of creolisation. The continuous negotiation of these identities forms

creativity in their expressions. Whilst individuals have a choice to engage with none, one, or

two, of these presences, in reading the choreography of Ina de Wildanis we can see that

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Patten has chosen to embrace them all. In another interview with Bob Ramdhanie in 2004,

Patten speaks of the role that his spiritual practices have on his choreography,

[…] it should be understood that there is a big difference between dancers

who are seeking technical perfection and someone like me who dances

with the spirit. Sometimes on stage, I just let go, and the spirit moves me

in whatever direction it chooses

(Patten 2004 in Ramdhanie, 2005, p.286)

Patten’s reflection on how he relates to the ‘spirit’ through dance is anchored in African

ideology, which uses dance as a function of spiritual communion, as discussed in chapter

three. Patten does not express which ‘spirit’ or practice he is drawing from when he talks of

being moved by the spirit, but for me, this is the very point in recognising the spiritual

continuities within this piece. It is not to deconstruct to the point of reduction but to recognise

that in accessing these various spiritual practices and beliefs through his choreography Patten

is rooting himself within practices that allow him to exist within Christian, African,

Rastafarian, and other ancestral philosophies simultaneously without having to align entirely

to one practice or another. In doing this Patten gives honour to his heritages and creates his

own identity using choreography as a tool to create a space of performative becoming. This is

evident within the second half of Ina de Wildanis when Dancehall riddims are played on

African drums. After Patten finishes dancing to the rhythms of the Nyabinghi, a staccato

Dancehall riddim sets in as described above. In his chapter Feel de Riddim, Feel de vibes,

Patten mentions the process of putting modern Dancehall riddims on drums as a part of his

choreographic process, as a conscious manipulation of ‘dancehall’s embodied spiritual

components’ (Patten, 2017a, p.116). It is within this section that we see Patten move

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seamlessly through popular Dancehall dances such as Summer Bounce to African dances

over a Dancehall riddim. Here, Patten is creating embodied connections; the conscious

negotiation of these movement aesthetics creates a rhizomatic map that is comprehended in

body and spirit by Patten. The movement creates a continuity of spiritual embodiment, a

network of movement that Patten puts together for himself and is significant for his identity.

Patten writes,

My own practice, from Ina de Wildanis to The Cotton Tree Passage

(2010), all reflect and signal the spiritual underpinning of African/neo

African dance […] these symbolisms underscore my practice, permitting

spiritually embodied ancestral data and cultural knowledge to manifest a

cultural memory that connects the riddim and the vibe of both church hall

and dancehall space

(Patten, 2017a, p.119)

In his chapter, when talking about the subversive nature of Dancehall for young people,

Patten recognises that when engaging with heritage and spiritually embodied ancestral data

(Stines, 2005), ‘cultural knowledge’ and ‘cultural memory’ are produced (Patten, 2017a,

p.119). Patten identifies these elements working together to create feelings of ‘communitas’

and belonging (Patten, 2017a, p.110). The cultural memory and knowledge that Patten

recognises are produced allows for an embodied understanding of self to occur (Francis,

2015), engaging Epic Memory and Dimensionality. In this way, Patten becomes what is

identified by Ramdhanie as a spiritographer (Ramdhanie, 2017, p.83).

An example of this spiritography is in the choreographic development of Ina de Wildanis. In

our conversation, Patten revealed to me that the movement and structure for Ina de Wildanis

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came to him in a series of visions that he had one night whilst he was working in Zambia in

the early nineties. Patten explained, ‘I went to bed at night in the hotel and then I dreamt the

first sequence, I woke up and wrote it down. Went to sleep, dreamt the next sequence, woke

up and wrote it down, and this went on the whole night, and by the time I woke up the next

morning the whole production was there…’ (Patten, 2017b). This anecdote is further

elaborated on in an interview that Patten had with Bob Ramdhanie in 2004 ‘[b]y the morning

I had written the narrative and knew all the songs and dances to go with it. In the show the

letter to Mama [,] that too came in the vision’ (Patten 2004 in Ramdhanie, 2005).

The cultural and spiritual continuities present within Ina de Wildanis and how they are

manifest are not just examples of negotiation of these things through choreography, but a

reflection of how in Patten’s British Caribbean Diasporic identity these continuities are held.

There is visible embodied rhizomatic tracing occurring within the narrative and on Patten’s

body, in which he is rooting and affirming himself through the process of embodiment. As

Patten said, this piece was about coming to terms with his identity, as being neither

completely Jamaican nor African. The journey Patten goes on becomes a negotiation of the

tensions that exist within him, between the multiplicity of his identity. To do this, Patten

forges his own space of becoming, the Wildanis, in which he can transcend the feeling of

holding half bunches of keys and create a master key to his identity. Yes, it is a statement to

those watching, but it is also a self-declaration, of wholeness within an identity that draws

from and is grounded in spiritual ancestral data, cultural memory (as past), cultural

knowledge (as present), and the production of new cultural aesthetics as (future/beyond). The

presence of spiritual and cultural continuities within the choreography act simultaneously as

creation and conservation of self, as Patten through his choreography transcends, borders,

time, and geographical locations across the Black Atlantic.

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This chapter has detailed the solo piece Ina de Wildanis choreographed by H Patten and

given an overview of his personal history. It has examined the choreography within Ina De

Wildanis in relation to the conceptualisation of practices of rooting it presents in chapter four.

In doing this, the chapter has not reduced Patten’s practice to its observations but identified

that spiritual and cultural continuities within the choreography function together to form a

practice of rooting. Through this rooting, Patten negotiates, defines, proclaims, and conserves

his identity as a Jamaican living in Britain, or as this thesis defines it, a person with a British

Caribbean Diasporic identity. Chapter nine will consider the space of performative becoming

that this rooting creates. The following chapter (6) will consider practices of rooting within

the work of Greta Mendez.

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Chapter 6: Reading Rooting in Greta Mendez’s Programme of

Extracts

This chapter will read the rooting in the choreographic work of Greta Mendez. A child of the

sixties, Mendez has used her career as a dancer, choreographer, and movement director to

speak to social issues and injustices across the world. Born in Trinidad, Mendez arrived in

London in the 1970s to study dance at London Contemporary Dance School. In the UK,

Mendez has been at the forefront of the Independent Dance movement and the inception of

the Black Dance sector. Like H Patten, Mendez is part of the first-generation of British

Caribbean Diasporic artists who were creating and performing during the inception of Black

British identities. Through its reading of three extracts of pieces, this chapter will focus on

the ways in which Mendez uses spirals in her choreography to resist oppression and find a

way back “home”. To contextualise Mendez’s spirals as rooting, the chapter will briefly

narrate her personal history and give an outline of her performance. The interpretations

offered in this chapter are not intended to reduce Mendez or her movement practice. Instead,

this chapter endeavours to highlight the ways in which her choreography demonstrates the

notion of rooting conceptualised in chapter four of this thesis.

On the 15th of March 2017, I attended a performance of extracts from work-in-progress

pieces that had not been developed into full productions by Mendez. Mendez was the

headline artist of the show which was presented by an organisation called Eclectic at Kuumba

in Bristol. The extracts were from three pieces; I am Only Chopping Onions, My Name is Not

Marylin So No one Gives an AFYZ and Bhopal. This research has chosen to consider these

extracts of pieces from later in Mendez’s career, rather than work from an earlier time. The

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predominant reason for this is that the privilege to be able to archive work is not one always

afforded to African, African Diasporic, or any minority artists in Britain (as discussed in

chapter three). This has meant that although there are many descriptions and critical reviews

available from those who have seen Mendez’s work, there is no archival video material

available for analysis. This does not disadvantage the research as it has provided the

opportunity for the analysis of Mendez’s work to occur through the embodied exchange

session we shared. This exchange, in addition to her personal history and the historical

context of her work, has allowed the research to interpret how practices of rooting function

within her choreography as a tool which she as an artist uses to navigate her identity. The

chapter will first detail the three extracts, then give a brief overview of Mendez’s history

before considering how Mendez uses spirals as a practice of rooting.

Entrance

We whinin’ hands in the air, head to the sky, hips lose, eyes closed, we

don’t care, it takes a while for the room to warm up, but soon the air is

electric with the waving of hands, with hips and torsos finding their own

rhythm within the beat. Chairs are in-between us, but we are together,

together in the dance, caught up, caught up in the uncapturable moment

(Uzor, 2018c)

The above quote is from a review that Mendez requested from me a few months after I saw

her performance. The quote describes the feeling in the room as the beginning segment of the

evening came to a climax. The piece begins with Mendez entering the stage as Fay-Ann

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Lyons’ 2015 song Raze, blasts through the auditorium. Mendez is dressed in a black spaghetti

vest top, red cardigan, and black dance trousers, over the trousers and sitting on her waist is a

long burlap circular skirt with a ruffled hem. Mendez comes onto the stage arms open,

whinin’ her waist, smiling at the crowd inviting them to join her as she moves her body in

time with the beat. On stage with her, a young woman introduced as Cleo, who plays a

supporting role, helps to encourage the audience to dance. Mendez is brazen and exudes the

energy of carnival. As I described in the review, it takes the crowd a while to warm up and

join Mendez in the dancing, but eventually, everyone in attendance is on their feet. Mendez

dances off the stage into the audience and commands our attention, choosing specific

audience members to dance with, creating excitement and personal rapport. Shimming her

shoulders, at times Mendez stops, and pouts, her personality oozing. Skipping back to the

stage Mendez begins to jump shouting “RAZE IT!” in time with Fay-Ann Lyons on the track.

On the stage, Mendez spins with her skirt, clockwise and then anti-clockwise, lifting the hem

as she turns, creating a powerful image of Mendez surrounded by burlap. Mendez, cuts

through the rhythm of the music, elongating her movement, creating shapes that frame her

body, shapes that are both feminine and filled with authority. For example, Mendez extends

her right arm, feeding it across her body from the left out to the right, ending with the right

wrist flexed, and her fingers pointing towards her body, her face fixed on the audience.

Mendez performs a series of these moves before shuffling towards the end of the stage,

whining her waist as she motions her hands towards herself in that “come closer” fashion.

After catching her breath, she receives her audience with the words “welcome to this nice and

juicy little evening”, and then prepares for the first extract of the evening.

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My Name is Not Marylin, So No-One Gives an AFYZ

My Name is Not, is an autobiographical piece which details the trauma that Mendez

experienced growing up as a woman of mixed heritage. Born to a Trinidadian mother and a

Canadian Father, Mendez did not fit into the predominantly African and Indian village of

Fyzabad in which she grew up. The piece takes us on a journey from the Caribbean to

England. Punctuated with strong linear extensions of the arms and legs and turns, Mendez

questions the arbitrary nature of racial classifications. This is especially pertinent to someone

like Mendez who is of a fairer complexion and presents as racially ambiguous, not quite

fitting the expectations of what is racially classified as black or white.

Across the length of the stage of My Name is Not, is a piece of rectangular white cotton,

which had all the names and the labels that have been put on Mendez throughout her life

written across it. Upstage right is a chair. Mendez begins the piece speaking about her time in

Trinidad as a child. She recalls never fitting in and being called names such as “Bastard”,

“Happen Child”, ‘Red (a desirable skin tone in the West Indies which is a lighter brown with

a red undertone) and “Whitey Cockroach” (a Trinidadian creole term of abuse for a person

with white skin). Mendez speaks very frankly about her stepfather not wanting a pale skin

child around, causing her to be sent back and forth between her godmother and her mother.

This resulted in Mendez becoming ‘small’ as she says in the piece, or ‘shrivel’ as she

mentioned in our interview (Mendez, 2017a).

Upbeat classical music acts as a transition as Mendez spins across the stage. In England,

Mendez is a young twenty-something and is no longer seen as Red or a ‘Whitey Cockroach

anymore, but she is called Biracial, Half-Caste, Mixed Race, Black, even Mulatto. Becoming

emotional, Mendez battles with these terms, repeating them over and over, trying to figure

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out where she belongs in these classifications. In hysteria, Mendez screams “what the fuck

am I?”. Breathing heavily, Mendez begins to pray a classic bedtime prayer that Christian

children are taught, however when Mendez delivers these words there is a sense of

depression and darkness setting over her as she prays the words “as I lay me down to sleep, I

pray the Lord, my soul, to keep, if I die before I wake, I pray the Lord my soul to take”. As

she finishes praying Mendez walks over to the chair upstage left and sits down. Simon and

Garfunkel’s The Sound of Silence35 plays into the auditorium. Mendez begins an emotive and

strained solo on the chair. Taking her head into her hands, Mendez pulls at her skin and her

face, she hugs her body, and her torso falls between her legs. Her movement vocabulary is

raw and filled with tension. As the song comes to an end, with tears in her eyes Mendez voice

trembles as she says “I am not a colour… I am culture… I am a child of steel pan, of

Calypso, of mangoes, and I am a fighter”.

Mendez snaps out of character and introduces the next piece.

I am Only Chopping Onions

The next piece is shorter than the first (as mentioned in the beginning; these were extracts)

and reflects Mendez’s political consciousness. Mendez introduces the piece as a Choreopoem

called I Am Only Chopping Onions. The piece was devised when one day, as Mendez was

chopping onions, she became aware of all the horrific images that are televised to us every

day. The poem reflects on how we are implicated in some of the things that seem to be

happening in far off lands, both as a nation and personally through our choices as consumers.

35Written by Paul Simon in 1964.

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The piece offers social commentary on issues of conflict and war and attempts to bring some

humanity to the images that we are seeing.

Mendez reads the poem (below), whilst the young female performer, Cleo, creates some

shapes centre stage. Although Cleo was performing, the attention was still very much geared

towards Mendez; her delivery and presence attracting the eye of the audience.

Mendez reads,

Images of war invade my space, images of war, sky war, weapons of

destruction invade the sky. They cut through the air, so beautiful in flight,

they glitter like Joan Collins, they sparkle like the Queen, weapons of

destruction. They must land, they must shatter. That means people, people

like you and I are screaming, holding onto your babies, images like this ...on

my tv, we allow our tax pounds to make the guns, we allow our tax pounds

to make the bombs, we sell the bombs, and we sell the guns, it is called arms

trade, isn’t it ironic, arms that are there to embrace, to hold children to

nourish them for lovers to embrace, mothers and daughters, it is called arms,

weapons of destruction are called arms… trade. We allow this virus to be

made, we allow this virus to spread, where are the campaigns and the

ribbons of awareness for this disease, this disease that we make, children,

young men, mothers grandmothers, gay men, heterosexuals, fathers, they

are all being shattered, by the bombs and the guns

Mendez 2017

As the piece ends, Calypso music is played into the audience as Mendez prepares for the next

piece, Bhopal.

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Bhopal

The final extract that Mendez performs also has a political tone. Mendez dedicates the piece

to the factory workers and those who have been victims of war. Following on from I Am Only

Chopping Onions, the extract presents social commentary which criticises the way in which

Western greed and consumerism have a detrimental effect on the living standards of those in

the countries that provide the Western world with goods. Focusing on India, Bhopal is a

thought-provoking piece which confronts the audience with the Bhopal gas tragedy of 1984,

where over 15,000 lives were taken when a toxic gas leaked from the chemical plant owned

by Union Carbide India Limited.

Mendez, aided by Cleo, puts on a black hooded cloak that reaches to just above her ankles.

The cloak has block writing stitched into it in white, however, as the cloak hangs it is not

clear as to what it says. Mendez is still wearing her burlap skirt, but at this time she has taken

off her red cardigan. She begins with the hood over her head and tied under her chin. There

are two wooden poles sewn into the cloak, which she takes hold of, slowly manipulating the

cloak around her body. Starting centre stage and moving stage left, Mendez controls our

gaze, keeping the cloak closed, concealing the message that is scribed on the back and inside

the cloak. At this time, an atmospheric track is played into the auditorium, the music is filled

with elongated notes from a voice that sings, but never forms words as it follows the sound of

a piano. The voice gradually becomes more varied as the track is then filled with violins and

other instruments, creating an uncanny feeling. As the voice intensifies, Mendez opens out

the cloak and begins to turn into herself, allowing the momentum that the cloak brings to

move her across the stage. At this point, the message of the cloak is visible but is not legible

as Mendez dances across the stage. At times, Mendez suddenly changes the dynamics,

coming to a standstill centre stage and bringing the cloak up around her face, concealing it

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from the audience. These moments are juxtaposed by Mendez lifting her leg into an extension

and throwing her torso and her head back, Mendez would then turn out of such a phrase of

movement and continue spinning across the stage.

The piece ends with Mendez extending both of her arms out from her torso whilst holding the

poles within the cloak, revealing the message that has not been legible up until this point.

Slowly, we see the message written inside the cloak, “www.survival.international.org36”, and

the words “No gats”, referring to the General Agreement on Trade in Service. Underneath

this statement, we see “www.wdm.org37” which is the World Movement for democracy38. As

Mendez, turns her back towards the audience, we then see the words Union Carbide, may

God forgive you- Bhopal a headline that Mendez sourced from Bhopal’s medical appeal in

Britain written by India Sinha (2007).

Mendez ends the performance by returning to Calypso.

When first considering these three extracts together, it seems that there is very little that

connects them apart from Mendez herself. However, with further consideration, it is possible

to identify a trend of themes throughout these extracts. Political and social commentary is

particularly prevalent throughout the performance. These commentaries are made both within

and apart from Mendez’s autobiographical narrative which features prominently throughout.

36 An organisation founded in 1969 that, ‘champions tribal peoples around the world […] help[s] them defend their lives, protect their lands and determine their own futures’ (Survival, n.d). 37 Now, www.movedemocracy .org. 38 A ‘global network of civil society activists, scholars, parliamentarians, thought leaders and funders who are committed to advancing democracy’ (World Movement for Democracy, n.d), established in 1999 the organisation facilitates networking, convened discussions, workshops and generally empower democracy advocates across the world.

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Observation of the choreography reveals that the Western Contemporary Dance aesthetic and

creolised Caribbean dance aesthetics are the movement vocabularies that are used within all

three extracts. In particular, we see the use of The Aesthetic of The Cool, Polyrhythm,

Repetition, Curvilinear, Improvisation, Dimensionality/Continuity39, and the use of breath

and weight. However, the most interesting theme that presents itself within the choreography

of these extracts is the presence of subversive spirals embodied and performed by Mendez.

These spirals are most dominant in the opening section, My Name is not, and the interluding

Calypso sections of the performance.

This research designates the use of subversive spirals within Mendez’s performance as a tool

which positions the body as a site of resistance and movement as an embodied map in which

to find home. Consequently, Mendez’s performance becomes a practice of rooting through

which she negotiates her identity. The use of the term home here is specific to Mendez and

how she places her identity. The significance of the term home was revealed to me during our

embodied exchange session when Mendez and I reflected on the physical exploration of the

question “how do you dance home?”. Mendez explained, ‘… That thing about the identity,

you can find home… sorry I mustn’t cry... because home is inside of me, it’s in my pain it’s

in my joy …’ (Mendez, 2018). The idea of home and identity seems to be an area of personal

contention for Mendez and one in which movement plays a significant role. Although for this

research I classify Mendez as having a British Caribbean Diasporic identity, it is essential to

note that Mendez herself does not identify with Britishness. Although, she does recognise

that she has an alignment to a British Caribbean Diasporic identity, having left Trinidad and

39 See Appendix B for more on aesthetics

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lived in Britain for what she told me is ‘too long’, approximately 40 years (Mendez, 2017a).

Before this chapter considers Mendez’s practice of rooting any further, it will contextualise

Mendez’s performance through her personal history.

Mendez began dancing at the age of ten when her physical education teacher Mrs Eileen

McSween, an educator in culture and sport saw her walking down a corridor of her school

and said, ‘oh this little girl looks like she can dance’ (Mendez, 2017a). It is because of this

occurrence that Mendez insists, ‘… dance discovered me, I didn’t discover dance’ (Mendez,

2017a). Dance became a place of solace for Mendez who described to me a turbulent

childhood. It is in dance that Mendez found herself. In a conversation we had, Mendez

reflected on her identity,

I see myself as lost in space, as a child, I didn’t belong anywhere, and I

still feel I don’t belong anywhere. I don’t belong here [Britain] when I go

home [Trinidad] I am no longer Trini either. If I had gone home maybe ten

years after I had left, maybe I would have found a place for me. But now

when I go… you see the world differently, and my accent is not the same

as theirs, and you do see the world differently from people who have lived

[there] ... so therefore […] I don’t know where I belong, and so really the

only place I really belong is on a stage […] labels I am not into […] I

didn’t feel lost, once I found dance…

(Mendez, 2017a)

In Trinidad during the 1960s, Mendez trained in African, Scottish, Irish, Ballet and Modern

Interpretive (a synthesis of the presence Africaine in Trinidadian culture) dance. During her

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time dancing in Trinidad, Mendez and her peers from her hometown Fyzabad would compete

in the National Arts Festival where experts from Britain would come to judge their dances.

Mendez recalled the first time they won the National Arts Festival, ‘when I was there it was

the first time a little village won, Because Port of Spain used to win all the time […] and we

hit the finals in Port of Spain, and we won’ (Mendez, 2017a). Mendez continued to dance in

Fyzabad where she had opportunities alongside her peers to perform on television. So much

was Mendez’s talent at that time, that as a teenager she was offered a thirty-minute slot to

perform a one-woman show on national television. Mendez remembers, ‘[…] I got my first

paycheque as a dancer, and I remember all the presents, I should have put it in the bank, but I

bought presents for everybody […] eventually I was able to buy a little outfit for myself, and

I remember it until this day’ (Mendez, 2017a).

Mendez continued dancing, eventually realising that she had outgrown the island she grew up

on. Mendez knew that if she wanted to progress further, she would have to leave the

Caribbean as it was becoming increasingly difficult to economically sustain dancing in

Trinidad. Mendez told me,

I wanted to go straight to Russia because I like the philosophy of the eastern

arts, it’s not about you, it’s about discovering something else, it’s that

quest… it’s all to do with that deeper psyche. I thought I would go and live

in every country for two years and live their dance. Because I was very

much into folk, and the dance that comes out of the people, not for show but

how they express

(Mendez, 2017a)

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Mendez’s interest in dance and movement has always been as a tool to access something

deeper that lies within. Having used dance for solace, self-expression, and realisation since

she was a young child, it is clear that Mendez was forming a practice of rooting through

movement as a means to (re)create her identity. It was for this reason that Mendez did not

want to study dance in the United States or Britain, ‘I never wanted to go to America or

England because as I have said before I wasn’t into dance steps, I was into discovering

something deeper… a deeper psychological… I don’t know what it was as a young person,

but I always had an interest in what was going on beneath the surface of our skin... I was least

interested in showing the façade. What is actually going on…?’ (B.A.I.D, 2014).

Mendez’s dream as a young twenty-something was that she would return to Trinidad in her

forties full of embodied knowledge to share with everyone (Mendez, 2017a). This dream

began with visiting Russia. However, failed attempts to get into Soviet-controlled Russia led

Mendez to Sweden instead, where she would take classes in folk dances and Ballet. Every so

often she would take the ferry to Denmark and dance with the Ballet academy there. It was in

Denmark that Mendez was offered full training to become a ballerina, but Mendez refused,

telling me, ‘… I didn’t like the language of Ballet, and I still don’t love it aesthetically. The

Ballet… it is almost kind of superior, it is almost looking down’ (Mendez, 2017a). Mendez

remained in Sweden until one day in the Bibliotheque, she saw that the London

Contemporary Dance School was holding auditions, and so in 1971 Mendez went to London

and successfully auditioned for the school. Mendez had to wait six months to enrol on her

course, consequently she returned to Trinidad where she obtained an essential scholarship

which enabled her to study in London.

When Mendez entered London Contemporary Dance School, Jane Dudley was the Director.

Mendez initially struggled in the big city, coming from such a small village in Trinidad. She

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told me she was not a city person, and so was not acclimatised to city life (Mendez, 2017a).

At dance school, Mendez was exploring the new experimental Modern dance that Robin

Howard had brought over four years earlier in 1967 from the United States when he founded

the school, ‘we used to be doing all sorts of craziness on the stairs, breaking down the rules, it

was really a hub for that’ (Mendez, 2017a). Despite this exciting environment, Mendez still

struggled with Eurocentric approaches to dance,

Suddenly I was in a world where people were obsessed with the mirror, with

the image in the mirror, I couldn’t understand that, I did not grow up dancing

with mirrors I grew up trying to find the movement from so far inside of me

that it manifests itself on the way out, so this thing in the mirror did not work

for me … I realised […] everybody is in their own little frame, everyone is

locked into their own image

(Mendez, 2017a)

Although Mendez could not connect with the approach to dance at London Contemporary,

the opportunity to be taught by William Louther would reignite her passion in dance as she

became inspired by the choreographer. After graduating from London Contemporary Dance

School, Mendez went on to become a dancer with the Scottish Ballet’s junior company where

she mainly danced in smaller venues, community centres and schools. It was shortly after

returning to London from Scotland that Mendez was informed by her friend Evrol Puckerin

that a few people had been meeting and forming ideas about a company out of Naseem

Khan’s initiative, the Minority Arts Advisory Service or MAAS. The company was to be

called MAAS Movers, and it would be a vehicle for Black British Contemporary dancers (as

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discussed in chapter three). In 1977 Puckerin asked Mendez to join the company and help set

it up, and Mendez agreed,

I remember saying to myself; I have never forgotten it, I will give this two

years of my life, because this is absolutely necessary, to prove that black

dancers can dance Contemporary Dance, we can fill the stages, that we are

capable of doing this in Britain. Not just Contemporary Dance, because I

was looking at some of my old notes, but how we can create a form that is

unique to us, not an African form, not a white form, not a black form. But a

form that is a voice of England, of London, so I thought ok I will give it two

years of my life

(Mendez, 2017a)

It was whilst Mendez was with MAAS Movers that she began to choreograph productions for

stage, at first for herself, and eventually for the rest of the company.

During this period, Mendez still engaged with movement from her Caribbean heritage,

working with the renowned Peter Minshall40 to produce Mas Bands for Notting Hill Carnival.

Mendez worked as a producer and a conceptual artist for various Mas/Carnival Bands who

went on to win prizes. This aspect of Caribbean culture, as well as Calypso, are an important

grounding for Mendez and a theme that occurs again and again in her work, including in the

performance of extracts that I observed in 2017.

40 Peter Minshall is a Trinidadian Mas designer who designed costumes for Carnival from the 1970s until the mid-2000s (Haynes, 2017). His work also crossed over into theatre and major cultural events, where he created pieces for performances held at Sadlers Wells and for national and international sports events.

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This brings us to the opening of Mendez’s performance at Kuumba in Bristol and her practice

of rooting. The presence of spirals within this opening scene is most prominent and powerful

in Mendez’s hips, as she comes to the front of the stage, her hips spin around the axis of her

spine, catching the repetitive rhythms of the Soca beat underneath Lyon’s Raze. This whine is

subversive, as Mendez embodies the spirals within her hips, she invokes the Epic Memory of

her Caribbean ancestors who used the same spirals as a means of resistance through Calypso

(Riggio, 1998, p.8). Mendez dances to Soca which derives from Calypso (as discussed in

chapter three) invoking what Mendez calls the ‘rebellious spirit’ (Mendez, 2017b). Yvonne

Daniel (2005) recognises the spiral to be a significant ‘continuous Curvilinear line that

travels’ (Daniel, 2005, p.82) identifying that this line creates a ‘circular path between

concentric realms of existence that the divinities and dance can access […] spiral[s] cut

through multiple realms within the planes of existence […] humans, animals, and plants […]

ancestors […] and the coronal plane of eternal essences [divinities]’ (Daniel, 2005, p.82).

Daniels explains (in the context of ritual practice) that as spirals occur within the dancing

body these realms collide with each other, allowing there to be an interaction between the

entities in these realms (Daniel, 2005, pp.82–83). Mendez’s experience of embodying spirals

reflects Daniel’s analysis of spirals as having the ability to connect a dancer with ‘multiple

realms within the planes of existence’ (p.82) to the ancestors and divinities beyond. As

Mendez moves through these spirals, she accesses the spiritual communion (Primus 1998)

that some Africanist dances connect to. As she dances, Mendez tells us who she is as she

displays her sensuality, sexuality, and life-giving power of her pelvis, drawing out what is

within her. Inviting the audience to do the same, Mendez sings along with Lyons “Show me

sumting”, as we the audience join Mendez we increase the intensity of the movement and

atmosphere, as the repetition of spiralling hips allows the dance to shift levels and we

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experience collective euphoria41. There is a potent Caribcentric aesthetic within the

movement of this opening section, spirals of the hips and later the whole body create a space

for Mendez to enter and speak from. The subversive spirit of this spiral induces cultural

memory empowering Mendez to elevate her voice and affirm her identity. Engaging with the

audience, with brazen energy, Mendez exudes The Aesthetic of Cool. The spiralling of the

hips, this whinin, becomes an opportunity for what Thompson identifies as Rebirth and

Reincarnation (Thompson, 1984, p.45). Pleasure is gained by both the audience and Mendez

as she channels ancestral knowledge of the subversive spiral, using it as a tool to be reborn

and to recreate herself on stage (Thompson, 1984, p.45). As a practice of rooting, Mendez is

not only revitalising herself through her choreography and gaining self -realisation

(Thompson, 1984, p.45) but is also vitalising the audience through the invitation to engage in

this movement practice with her.

Mendez expanded further in our embodied exchange session on the significance of spirals

and how performing them creates connections to a space through which she affirms her

identity. As noted earlier, Mendez told me, ‘that thing about the identity, you can find home,

sorry I mustn’t cry… because home is inside of me... it’s in my pain, it’s in my joy […]’ She

continued ‘[…] so, for me, that’s why I go back to Calypso which has spirals in them. It is

laced with spirals as you realise and you can take it anywhere once you have that and you can

do anything, you can do that [dances] and then go back to the source, you go back home, you

go back home’ (Mendez, 2018). What is most significant here about Mendez story and her

41 Welsh Asante recognises euphoria as being a product of repetition in her 2001 article Commonalities in African Dance: An Aesthetic Foundation pg. 150.

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aligning of Calypso and Soca within her movement practice, is that it allows her to go home.

This notion is found within the movement practices of the enslaved Africans who also used

movement as a channel in which to create “home”. As demonstrated in chapter three, through

movement the enslaved transcended (even if momentarily as Martin 1998 identifies) the

horrendous circumstances that they were in and were empowered through music and dance.

The rooting that Mendez engages in through her spiralling creates an embodied map through

which she locates herself. Through this research’s analysis and conceptualisation of practices

of rooting, the cyclical nature of the embodied spirals Mendez uses within her choreography

does not bring her to the same point every time. It is, as has been said before, not a space of

origin, the spirals are not a cycle of return, but like Brathwaite’s conceptualisation of

tidalectics, they exist on a continuum meeting others (audiences) shifting, receding, reading,

adjusting and creating new places of respite and recognition for Mendez to (re)create herself

in the space of her performative becoming.

During our embodied exchange session, Mendez shared a spiral that is unassuming yet for

her, holds significance. Amid our physical response to the question of home, Mendez invited

me to join her spiralling her hips, what I interpreted physically to be a whine. It was at this

point that Mendez indicated for me to look closer at her movement, which was not a whine,

but a deeper spiralling, that existed at her centre. In our reflection, Mendez explained to me,

[…] I think it is in the African Culture […] there is this thing about the

heartbeat, a lot of people dance the surface [when it comes to Caribbean or

Africanist dances], but it is the heartbeat, the tremor inside of there [points

to her centre of torso] that has to go, that then radiates, like when you drop

a pebble in the water […] it comes from the coronary, and it’s a major

trunk line, and then to the foot connected to the earth, it comes right from

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the heartbeat […] connecting with the soul. Calypso is very rebellious, it is

very anarchic, it's full of the pain, but the pain, like our ancestors who

were in slavery, they want to break out of it, the breakout is there but they

don’t negate that [points to her spiralling torso], so you have to find that

[heartbeat] it takes us right back to our African ancestry […]

(Mendez, 2018)

Throughout the extract of My Name is Not there is also a repeated use of spirals. Spirals are

used to transition us from the Caribbean and England. They are also used during the intensity

of the final movement phrase, both on and off the chair. It is here that we see the same

subversive spiral and the core movement of the inner spiral (heartbeat) as a place of

connection that allows other movements to radiate out from it, as explained to me by

Mendez. Mendez’s movement practice is to work from the inside out. Through her

choreography, we see how the working of the inner spiral (heartbeat) forms within Western

dance aesthetics as an amalgamation of her diverse movement vocabularies manifest.

Towards the end of the extract, we see a spiral expand out into exaggerated spins, Mendez’s

arms are extended out diagonally before she proclaims that she is not a colour, but she is a

culture, a child of steel pan and Calypso. The declarations that proceed these expanded spirals

of the body are a [re]creation of Mendez’s identity stirring up from that inner spiral,

tremoring within. Embodying the anarchy of Calypso, they are a rejection of tick boxes and

the identities that she has been placed within. The cultural fusions present in My Name is Not,

engage in what Gottschild (2002) calls the ‘conflict of opposites’ (p.10) that is present within

some diasporic dance forms. The grounded nature of the inner spiral that Mendez embodied

with me is released into a contemporary Westernised aesthetic, where it exists higher up in

the body, centring the torso. During My Name is Not we see the presence of Mendez’s

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contemporary training within her movement vocabulary, alongside flickers of the

Carib/Africanist aesthetic that Mendez has been embodying since she was a child. When

considering Mendez’s movement vocabulary we can understand how the choreography

within My Name is Not goes beyond an affirmation of self, and becomes a practice of rooting

through which embodied knowledge permeates out from the stage to challenge the

perceptions of the audience. The intense collective euphoria experienced by the audience

through Mendez’s direct address at the opening of the piece allows the audience to enter the

dance with Mendez. Later on, during the performance of Mendez’s pain in My Name is Not

the audience is able to also enter this place of pain with Mendez and confront the echoes of

ourselves within her story. Mendez’s space of performative becoming is one of her own

rooting, yet it also reveals the subjectivities and social responsibility of those encountering it

(Mendez’s space of performative becoming will be discussed further in chapter nine).

What we see within Mendez choreography, specifically in the use of spirals within the

opening section and the extract of My Name is Not, is a practice of movement that allows

Mendez to journey within and to find a place of home. It is in entering the dance through her

space of performative becoming that Mendez reassigns her identity, challenging the

perception of society and finding herself. Within our embodied exchange session, I asked

Mendez to dance as herself. It was at this point Mendez recognised a need to allow her body

to move apart from her mind, a need to ‘close in and go into my cocoon and then evolve

first…’ (Mendez, 2018). This response suggests that entering the dance for Mendez becomes

a space of safety, for creation and (re)creation. Only once Mendez has entered the dance, is

she been able to find true belonging through her rooting.

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This chapter has considered rooting as conceptualised in chapter four within three extracts of

work choreographed by Greta Mendez. Through its analysis, the chapter has highlighted how

spirals form a rooting through which Mendez finds home. The interpretations presented in

this chapter do not intend to reduce Mendez or her practices, instead, the chapter aims to

illuminate how practices of rooting are working within her choreography. Chapter nine of this

thesis will consider the spaces of performative becoming Mendez forms through her rooting.

The next chapter (7) will analyse rooting within the choreography of Jamila Johnson-Small.

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Chapter 7: Reading Rooting in Jamila Johnson-Small’s i ride

in soft colour and focus/ no longer anywhere

This chapter will read the practice of rooting within the choreography of Jamila Johnson-

Small. Johnson-Small belongs to the second-generation of British Caribbean Diasporic

artists. As defined in chapter three, these are artists who began creating and performing work

from 1990s-2019. Born in Britain and of Caribbean heritage, Johnson-Small has developed

her career as a choreographer and performer since graduating from London Contemporary

Dance School (LCDS). Working as both collaborator and soloist, Johnson-Small’s work is

concerned with her thoughts, feelings, and experiences of living as a queer black woman in

Britain. Her work goes beyond the realms of traditional dance, into visual and live art

settings. Through its reading of rooting, the chapter aims to illustrate how Johnson-Small’s

choreography aligns with the thesis’ conception of rooting presented in chapter four.

Johnson-Small and/or her practice is not bound to these interpretations. This first section of

the chapter will consider how Johnson-Small engages with a practice of rooting that is

decolonial, allowing her to dance in the complexity of her identity. It will first detail Johnson-

Small’s solo piece i ride, identifying the general themes of the piece. Secondly, the section

will contextualise the piece through Johnson-Small’s narrative and history, before finally

detailing how Johnson-Small’s practice of rooting as a decolonial process allows Johnson-

Small to (re)present herself to the audience.

i ride is Johnson-Small’s first full-length solo piece which she performs under the name Last

Yearz Interesting Negro. The piece could be considered a Contemporary Dance piece that is

abstract and intense in feeling. Johnson-Small describes the piece as,

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the body as oracle, a trance, a rhythmic interface an atmosphere, a

landscape with the texture of my current mental state. a dance informed by

everything and everyone I have ever encountered, seen, heard, felt, been

beside, that has become part of me, as I try to identify my own voice and

then see if I can stand it, nothing ever really goes away.

a choreography that priorities density over going anywhere, noise over

silence, now over yesterday and pleasure over doing it right

a meditation, an osmosis and internalisation, the responsibilities of blackness,

queerness, the pressure to ‘take space’ the feeling of being possessed by other

people’s fantasies and the fear that my own would just be too rude

(Johnson-Small, 2017)

I first saw the piece at its debut in 2016, since then Johnson-Small and her team have

developed the piece and performed it within the United Kingdom and internationally. In early

2019 Johnson-Small became the Arts Foundation Fellow for Visual Arts for i ride. In March

2019, I saw the piece again at its Belgian Premiere at Kaaistudios, Brussels and it is this most

recent version of the piece that this research will analyse.

i ride is a continuous multi-layered dance, we enter after the piece has already begun, and

leave before it seems to have finished. As a consequence, there is a challenge in defining the

structure of the piece. If we were to define the piece by what happens, then it is possible to

identify three parts of the piece. The first part is without Johnson-Small’s presence on stage,

the second is with Johnson-Small dancing, and the third sees audience participation. These

demarcations of the piece are strictly as a guide for the description that follows and are not

useful for reading the choreography.

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We start in darkness, upstage left there is a towering black sound system, with three other

bass speaker boxes strewn in a line upstage. The general stage area is littered with meteoric

masses, huge black sculptures invoke the sense we are in another world; some are big others

are small. Underneath the towering system, there is a heaped, unassuming clear plastic sheet.

A white screen is on the back wall of the stage. As we sit waiting for something to happen an

atmospheric soundscape fills the auditorium, it is otherworldly with muffled voices talking

and repeating in echo.

We begin the piece without Johnson-Small’s physical presence. However, Johnson-Small’s

image is projected onto the screen, she walks on wearing ripped white jeans and a white

jumper and burgundy Nike Air Jordan Future trainers, and she begins to move. Johnson-

Small’s digital self moves with a tension that seems to run through her body causing her

movement to be slightly jolted although it keeps flow. As Johnson-Small’s digital-self moves

in this way, the image duplicates and moves together in unison.

These two dancing images of Johnson-Small eventually lead to a singular Johnson-Small

dancing in black opaque tights, with the same Nike Air Jordan trainers and a long hooded

black jumper dress. This version of Johnson-Small moves slower, her movements are

repeated and are increasingly jolted, her gaze is fixed at the audience as her arms come above

her head slightly flexed at the elbow and try to arrange themselves awkwardly. This version

of Johnson-Small is eventually joined by four others, making five in total on-screen, each

dancing individually.

These small dances by multiple Johnson-Smalls eventually give way to a single image of

Johnson-Small wearing the long-hooded jumper dress that we saw earlier with the hood over

her head. With the background of the screen changing intermittently from one bright colour

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to another, we see Johnson-Small move in slow motion, a digital replica of Johnson-Small

pops onto the screen and begins the movement phrase from the beginning, whilst the original

continues. Another digital Johnson-Small appears, and another and another, each digital

replica starting the movement phrase from the beginning, this continues until our screen is

full of a chorus of Johnson-Smalls moving in canon.

At this point, the chatter in the sound begins to die down. The sound and lighting become

more dramatic; an imploding sound causes a sense of foreboding as the whispering chatter

continues. The sound of Johnson-Small’s voice emerges from the others saying “I had a

dream John Coltrane was my father…basic tension…this one is for you… I am practising

avoidance… my body is a stack of systems that do not stop, and they are loud”.

Slowly the heaped plastic upstage left begins to move and from it emerges Johnson-Small.

The music intensifies in beat, but Johnson-Small’s movement remains slow as if adjusting to

this new world, as she walks downstage towards the audience each step of her foot is

carefully placed. Johnson-Small wears a large black jumpsuit, which is cut out underneath

her arms, revealing her skin and a two-line tattoo across her ribs. She wears the same Nike

Air Jordan trainers as she does in the video projections and has black gloves on her hands and

long dreadlocks flow from her head. Across Johnson-Small’s left cheek, a white plaster, from

what I remember, Johnson-Small also had a small white marking on her right cheek as well.

Johnson-Small’s movement slowly builds to be more expressive, the heavy bass of the music

at this point is visceral. We hear Johnson-Small’s voice in the auditorium saying, “I exist in-

between the beat the thuds”. As Johnson-Small moves across the stage there is a tension

present throughout her movement. The voice continues, Johnson-Small talks about her

relation to the rhythm, succumbing to it, expressing herself within the space it creates. The

movement builds in layers creating a density and deep heaviness.

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This part of the piece with Johnson-Small dancing first sees Johnson-Small move upstage in

almost darkness with a softer dynamic to her movement. Spotlights are across the centre of

the stage. The intense rhythm gives way to the sirens and imploding sounds that we heard at

the beginning of the piece. There is a sense of otherworldly-ness as a new rhythm establishes

itself, Johnson-Small’s voice is heard again, “I no longer believe in nature as a concept, I

don’t even see trees anymore, I see time, I see humans everywhere, can’t keep their hands to

themselves...but you get what you’re given, and take what you can get….”. An atmospheric

whirring sound gives way to other voices, an African American (an assumption on my

behalf) woman shouts “White people” a chorus laughs and replies “do something”, a new

rhythm begins, and we hear the sound of the street. Johnson-Small continues to move; at

some points, there is a stillness to how she is moving. At this point, the focus is on the sound,

the sound of the street gives way to more voices talking about street names in London, and

what lies beneath the pavements of the city. The rhythmic beat from before begins to layer

back in with the voices as they speak a male voice asks, “would you rather drown or burn?”

Before the show, Johnson-Small had invited me and two other female audience members to

join her on stage. Our signal was “would you rather drown or burn?”. So, at this point, I

chose a spot on the stage and danced there until my signal – a chanting. From seeing the

piece previously, I remember that Johnson-Small also dances on the spot at this point. She

dances for herself, with no acknowledgement of those who came to join her. We continue to

dance, at some point the rhythm changes from the punchy consistent beat, to something more

lyrical. When we hear the chanting of African American women in a call and response song,

we leave the stage. The women repeatedly sing the chorus refrain, “this time” as the leader

says many things in between, leading to the moment where she chants, “you better love us or

leave us alone”, “you better love us or leave us alone”.

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As I leave the stage and re-enter my seat, the rhythm of the music has changed; a fast-

constant beat gives a sense of foreboding once again, Johnson-Small is upstage left, dancing

in a strobe spotlight. Her movement quick, energetic, and bouncing, we only catch glimpses

of her moving across the stage as the strobe light breaks up her image. The strobe lights fade

and Johnson-Small is back upstage, at this point she begins to move within a small box of

light. Johnson-Small’s body glistens in this yellow light as she repeats a movement phrase

that consists of her hand running across her body, as she pliés, stretches her neck, and turns to

the audience to face stage right. The music intensifies and becomes dirtier as though an

engine is running, then repeats like the skipping of a CD.

A rhythmic beat moves Johnson-Small, and we hear a voice singing. The beat dictates the

emphasis of her movement. Johnson-Small travels with this movement upstage and walks

across the screen, which is now projecting two white squares, her shadow is cast on the back

of the stage as she moves across the screen from stage left to right. Once she has arrived in

this rhythm at stage right, Johnson-Small begins to travel downstage towards the audience.

Reaching the audience, Johnson-Small begins to rhythmically step to the beat, eyes fixed on

the audience, hips slightly swinging. There is a slight lyricism to this step. After holding our

gaze for a while Johnson-Small continues this lyrical stepping, travelling the movement

across the front of the stage to stage right, keeping the audience’s gaze, both her wrists

rhythmically waving from side to side.

Once Johnson-Small reaches stage right the rhythmic beating fades out, and another lyrical

beat replaces it. With the introduction of this new beat, Johnson-Small begins to move into

the audience, Johnson-Small moves to the beat, in a staccato manner, reaching a position and

then shifting quickly. As she moves up the stairs Johnson-Small reaches out physically

touching audience members. Once Johnson-Small reaches the sound desk she asks an

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engineer to pass her a white t-shirt. Moving to the steps leading to the stage, Johnson-Small

takes her shoes off and changes out of her jumpsuit. At this point, Johnson-Small is barefoot

and wearing black knickers, a long white t-shirt and beige knee pads.

Once back on stage, Johnson-Small positions herself behind the speakers, and in front of the

screen which is white (as I remember), Johnson-Small lunges and extends her arms in a

relaxed third position, her torso extended, and head slightly tilted back. Johnson-Small

bounces through this position as if preparing, a voice that has been playing into the

auditorium becomes more layered as a loud repetitive punchy beat comes to the forefront of

the sound. At this, Johnson-Small enters into a dynamic movement phrase across the stage,

weaving in and out of the meteoric masses on stage. Dressed in white Johnson-Small is now

more prominent against the dark scenery.

As this moment comes to an end, Johnson-Small begins to collect the meteoric sculptures and

latex pillows from around the stage and arranges the sculptures in a pile stage right, scattering

the pillows. Once this is complete instructions appear on-screen requesting that some of the

audience members come and join Johnson-Small on stage. This section is where there is an

increased level of audience participation, as identified at the beginning of this description.

At this point, I went on stage with other members of the audience. Johnson-Small gives the

audience eye-masks with animal eyes on them. We sit and wait for a while whilst Johnson-

Small gives out these masks to some of the audience who are still in their seats, some put the

mask on unsure of what to do. Johnson-Small comes back onto the stage and begins to move

around the audience with a circular motion of her hips, intentionally making a connection

(through eye contact or physical) with all those on the stage.

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As Johnson-Small progresses, from what I remember, she lies on one of the speakers that is

blasting out a rhythmic beat that is heavy and full of sirens and a voice singing. As these

intense sounds come to an end and give way to a different atmospheric soundscape, Johnson-

Small collects a microphone and the plastic sheet from which she first emerged and drags it

downstage centre right to the audience members who are sitting around the meteoric

sculpture. Johnson-Small wraps herself in the plastic sheet and begins to talk into the

microphone about where this piece is coming from. Johnson-Small tells the audience that the

piece is made up of dances of grief. She explains that the dances and the audience are a way

of her working through the grief of her father dying five years ago. Johnson-Small talks of

feeling narcissistic for only considering the position in which her father lay as he died years

later, as opposed to her embodied memory of where she was when she got the news, which

has been prominent since the day it happened. Johnson-Small’s conversation with us tapers

off with no conclusive end. The soundscape comes back in, and there is a projection on the

screen. Johnson-Small stays wrapped in the plastic sheet.

In this second projection, we see Johnson-Small from the hips down in tubular shorts, her

bottom half moving around without its torso, her legs extending and contracting, her bottom

in the air. The background changes from, blue, to pink, and mauve, and it is raining across the

projection. Johnson-Small’s top half then appears without her legs, wearing nothing but a

pink hooded jumper with the hood over her head, Johnson-Small begins to move around the

screen, rolling over herself, and extending her arms, at one point Johnson-Small takes off the

hooded jumper revealing her bare chest, before the image disappears, and her bottom half

appears on another part of the screen. During this projection, Johnson-Small’s physical

presence exits the stage. As the video projection comes to an end, we are left together as an

audience, some still on the stage with the sound. Johnson-Small’s physical and digital

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presence has left the stage, and we are left with the dense soundscape, of abstracted dub beats

and a spotlight that seems to search the audience, as it moves around the stage, slowly the

soundscape reduces to a humming type sound, as the spotlight continues to search getting

smaller and smaller with every round. We hear a layered and repetitive voice once again

(maybe Johnson-Small’s), “never know how much I care…. stay…. i burn …”

The piece ends.

Although there is an intentional ambiguity within i ride, it is possible to identify some

cohesive elements that are prevalent within the choreography. The movement within the

piece itself has a minimalist nature and is often small, intense, and dense. The piece utilises a

heavy rhythmic accompaniment that sits between the borders of dub, jungle, drum and bass,

and more abstracted sounds. The use of Johnson-Small’s voice is also dominant throughout,

whether recorded or live, creating a rapport with the audience. Another theme is how the

audience is addressed throughout the piece; this is not necessarily direct. The piece has a

futuristic feel, layered visual, sensory, and aural elements are produced through words, props,

and video. Through its reading of Johnson-Small’s choreography, however, this research is

particularly interested in the multiple presences of herself that Johnson-Small presents

through different mediums which allow the audience to experience her dimensionally. This

section will now consider Johnson-Small’s personal narrative and history to contextualise i

ride later in the analysis.

When watching i ride, we experience Johnson-Small four-fold; conceptually, physically,

aurally, and visually. Each of these presentations of self, allow the audience to access

Johnson-Small and the philosophies of i ride through a channel of exchange produced

through the choreography. During a conversation I had with Johnson-Small we spoke about

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notions of identity, nation, and where we fit within broader societal concepts of identity and

belonging. During this conversation, Johnson-Small told me that she was interested in how

both her Caribbean heritage and the environment that she grew up in informs her ‘eating […]

domestic rituals, […] understandings of cleanliness [and] ideas of being together […]’

(Johnson-Small, 2018), and how those ideas are not necessarily ideas that are British

(Johnson-Small, 2018). When I asked her to further define her location between ideas of

Britishness and the Caribbean, Johnson-Small told me, ‘[…] I don’t want to align to anything

in a complete way, because I am not anything in a complete way, I am so many things at once

[…]’ (Johnson-Small, 2018). Johnson-Small’s understanding of her own identity evidences

the usefulness of the conceptualisation of rooting that this research presents. In a similar way

that Gilroy’s deterritorialised conception of the Black Atlantic allows us to move beyond

essentialised affinities within identity formation, practices of rooting also allows for the

deconstruction of nation and belonging that Johnson-Small questions as its very premise

recognises the complexities we all hold. When considering rooting through Hebdige notion of

roots, our identities are in flux; they change shape and colour depending on our experiences

and environments. Yes, there is no point of origin, but there is a history, (Hebdige, 1987,

p.10) and a context in which those identities are being produced that can tell us something

about an individual’s identity and wider practices of rooting.

For Johnson-Small, her personal narrative and history begin in the late eighties in Northwest

London. Brought up in the borough of Hackney, her father who was born in Tobago, was a

publisher, and her mother, born in the UK and of Tobagonian heritage was a teacher.

Johnson-Small recalls dance being a normal part of her life when she was growing up, in an

interview with Fifth Sense magazine, Johnson-Small recalls, ‘… My mum would just dance,

or I would dance with my auntie to Tina Turner videos. Things could bubble up, or bubble

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over into dancing…’ (Johnson-Small in Capps, 2017). Johnson-Small has always had an

interest in performance. During our first interview, she recalled that for her fifth birthday she

asked her mum to take her to the Theatre Royal to watch a play on the Arawak’s and the

Caribs, ‘…I remember the feeling of the theatre, and I remember it being interesting to learn

about this history in the action on the stage’ (Johnson-Small, 2018). As a young child and

teenager Johnson-Small would be involved with theatre courses and ‘church school Ballet’,

she told me, ‘I like dancing… I was doing shows at my house for my family, my friends

would come around, and we would dance. This was very present… I studied dance when I

could, and I did extra dance things when I could’ (Johnson-Small, 2018).

Johnson-Small would take her extra-curricular passion further at secondary school where she

would study GCSE Dance and go on to do an AS Level in Dance. After completing her A-

Levels, Johnson-Small, feeling slightly disillusioned with the education system applied to

study English and Italian at university, however a conversation with her then dance teacher

led her back to dance. Johnson-Small was accepted on to the Foundation Course in Dance at

Lewisham College. Studying dance at Lewisham marked a shift in the intensity of Johnson-

Small’s dance training. At Lewisham College, Johnson-Small would study Ballet, Graham,

Pilates, Tap, Contemporary, Release, and Choreography amongst other techniques. Despite

the intensity in training, Johnson-Small always made time to dance for herself, whilst she was

not conscious of it, it would be the times that she snuck into the studio to dance alone that

would be the beginnings of the development of her own practice,

Lewisham was a shock because I was there from my casual college days

and thinking I will do a foundation ...and then being like, what this is so

hard! People are being so intense; there are so many complex things to

navigate… and it was just great because I would just be dancing. I would

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go early and just be dancing in the studio alone, …and it would be nice… I

dance for myself... it was not to practice fucking Graham I tell you that...

no way … I was always making dances or dancing … since I was a kid…

so there is something … just continued

(Johnson-Small, 2018)

After Lewisham, Johnson-Small auditioned for the Northern School of Contemporary Dance,

Trinity Laban Conservatoire of Music and Dance and London Contemporary Dance School

(LCDS) and was accepted to all three schools, ‘I remember getting my acceptance letter from

The Place [LCDS] … and it being a really big thing… I think it was more like... they are

accepting me... oh I am not terrible… maybe there is something here…’ (Johnson-Small,

2018). In 2006, Johnson-Small would begin the undergraduate training programme in Dance

at LCDS. When reflecting on her initial three years at LCDS, Johnson-Small expressed her

experience as being ‘very hard’ (Johnson-Small, 2018). When we sat down for our

conversation in 2018, Johnson-Small recognised that it had been ten years of processing her

experience at LCDS, ‘I have so many thoughts about that programme, and myself in that

programme… I can trace its impact in certain ways…’ (Johnson-Small, 2018). Some of the

unspoken hierarchies that were present during Johnson-Small’s time at LCDS would present

a challenge to Johnson-Small. Johnson-Small also found it difficult to reconcile with the

approach to teaching, ‘I really struggled in those spaces… just constant measuring … both

having to confront yourself visually and having to be open physically to people’s criticism

every day. I think that is really a lot…’ (Johnson-Small, 2018). Despite any doubts that

Johnson-Small may have had she persisted in her passion to improve her technique. Johnson-

Small spoke to me of the intention and interest that she had in dance as being the drive behind

her continuing at LCDS, even if there were times that she desired to leave.

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An experience at Impulztanz during her second year at LCDS would change Johnson-Small’s

approach to her training and the direction she wanted to go in after she graduated,

I went to Impulstanz for the first time… and somehow... I guess doing and

thinking and being around dancing in a different context … really freed up

or helped shift something in me. I went with some friends from The Place,

and that summer my angst, or my giving a shit went away, and I went into

the third year, feeling really like, I know what I want to fuck with here, and

I know what I don’t, and I’m just going to get through this, and I’m going

to make this good for me

(Johnson-Small, 2018)

With this new attitude, Johnson-Small’s third year was significantly different. As a result of

this change in her experience, Johnson-Small decided to audition for the postgraduate dance

company of London Contemporary Dance School, Edge. It is at Edge where Johnson-Small

would first meet her long-term collaborator Alexandrina Hemsley.

Through Edge, Johnson-Small would have the opportunity to work with a few

choreographers who would go on to influence her own practice and approaches to movement

and choreography. Namely, Wally Cardona who worked in between boundaries of dance,

which inspired Johnson-Small,

We worked with Wally Cardona […] and lots of things that he tried to

propose to us, that maybe we were not getting then, through the

performing of the work really started to feed into or met how I was

practising in this space that is not improvisation but is not five, six, seven,

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eight… it's quite an ambiguous space. So that was hugely informative in

many ways

(Johnson-Small, 2018)

It was within Edge that race became a more significant factor for Johnson-Small. In

retrospect, Johnson-Small recognised that one reason that she may have been feeling

awkward during her undergraduate programme was that she was one of two black women on

the course. This especially became evident towards the end of the postgraduate programme

when conversations about auditioning for companies became a priority. It was at this time

that Johnson-Small started to have conversations about what would be appropriate and what

would not be, in terms of how her hair should be, or what she might wear,

The idea that to be in a company you have to be uniform, and my body is

not going to be uniform to most people in most companies in this country,

or even in Europe, the thought is where would I go if I was in a company,

it’s like where would I fit? Nowhere actually, I think that’s when race

became more of something spoken between me and other people

(Johnson-Small, 2018)

After Johnson-Small’s experiences during Edge and LCDS, she decided that she would never

let anyone choreograph on her body again,

[…] thinking about the process, thinking about the favouritism, thinking

about the lack of transparency… thinking about the work that came out

and trying to apply the critique of that work from inside the work as

though I was outside the work. What is this giving to the audience …

actually, I don’t want to give what you want to give to people, especially

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off my body. You, who doesn’t consider or understand the power and the

histories that my body is carrying all the time, you are not being

responsible with my body, and I can’t trust you... that is what I was left

with

(Johnson-Small, 2018)

After achieving a Masters degree, the dance creations that Johnson-Small had been producing

alone and with her friends became more formal. Two significant collaborations formed at this

time: Project O with Alexandrina Hemsley and Immigrants and Animals in 2012 with Mira

Kutta. From 2014, Johnson-Small started to create solo work under the title Last Yearz

Interesting Negro. Late one night during a residency in Luxembourg, Johnson-Small decided

to watch a documentary on Jean-Micheal Basquiat, it was a documentary that she had tried to

watch before but couldn’t complete because of the intensity of the narrative. It was during the

documentary that the line/phrase last year’s interesting negro came up. The phrase struck a

chord with Johnson-Small who knew that she wanted to use the phrase and had it in mind for

around three years. ‘[…] I was trying to find, is it the name of a piece? A name of a website?

A certain project? Is it the name of a group thing? And then I was like, oh no, it’s the name

for me… and that just sort of landed’ (Johnson-Small, 2018). Having briefly contextualised i

ride through Johnson-Small’s personal narrative and history, this chapter will now consider

Johnson-Small’s practice of rooting within the piece.

As mentioned previously, the reading of the choreography in i ride sees Johnson-Small

engage in a practice of rooting that is decolonial. Through this process of decolonisation,

Johnson-Small creates a space of performative becoming in which she can present the

multiplicity of her identity, vulnerability, and embodied knowledge. As touched on earlier, in

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i ride we experience this decoloniality four-fold, conceptually, aurally, digitally, and

physically. These separate elements work together in the piece to create a network of

multiplicities that layer on top of one another, with no hierarchy or emphasis on one more

than another, they interweave through each other and exist among each other. The nature of

these elements in the piece reflects the multiplicitous rhizomatic rooting that this research

conceptualises in chapter four. In addition to this, as Johnson-Small is (re)presented within

each of these elements their nature reflects the multiplicity of Johnson-Small.

Responding to a question about her aims for the audience within i ride in Fifth Sense

magazine, Johnson-Small clarifies, ‘I want the work to embody the thinking and feeling

behind it, not explain it away, laying it out for the audience. I guess you could say this is a

decolonial project’ (Johnson-Small in Capps, 2017). This thesis is careful to not appropriate

the term decolonisation when referring to British Caribbean Diasporic histories or identity

formation. As a theory anchored within Indigenous peoples communities’ plight to ‘bring

repatriation of Indigenous life and land’ (Tuck and Yang, 2012, p.1), this thesis has found

postcolonial theory to be more appropriate when considering the practices of rooting of

British Caribbean Diasporic artists (see chapter one). However, in recent history, the term

decolonisation has become an increasingly popular metaphor (see Yang and Tuck 2012

Decolonisation is not a Metaphor) especially when considering higher education, seen in

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global movements such as “Rhodes Must Fall”42 and “Decolonise the Curriculum43”. In the

context of Johnson-Small’s characterisation of i ride as a decolonial piece and the rooting this

research conceptualises, we can view decolonisation as a metaphor through decolonial

theory.

Contrasting decolonial theory to postcolonial theory, Patricia Noxolo identifies that,

Decolonial theory makes a louder and more radical challenge, linked more

directly to protest and direct confrontations with existing practice.

Decolonial theory is focused on an epistemic challenge to colonialist

thinking, with an emphasis on radical delinking from the sources of

ongoing inequalities that have deep historical roots in European

imperialism, but that are continually re-staged and re-routed through the

continuing and deepening inequalities brought about through

neoliberalism […]

(Noxolo, 2017, p.342)

Through Noxolo’s characterisation of decolonial theory and the use of the term in recent

global movements, this research utilises Johnson-Small’s identification of i ride as a

decolonial project as a metaphor to illustrate the rooting that Johnson-Small is engaging with.

We can consider decolonisation in this context as an embodied practice that challenges,

42A student led protest at the University of Cape Town to bring down the statue of Cecil Rhodes whose financial scholarships perpetuate ideologies of Western domination throughout Imperial contact zones. This movement was part of a wider movement to decolonise higher education in South Africa. 43 A student-led movement in Britain that stemmed from the Rhodes Must Fall protests. The movement calls for the inclusion for African, African Diasporic, Asian and other ethnic minority writers to be included in the curriculum at British Universities (Muldoon, 2019).

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delinks (Noxolo, 2017, p.342) and strips colonist gazes and systems which have shadowed

British Caribbean Diasporic histories, as demonstrated in chapter two.

As a practice of rooting decolonisation is first presented conceptually through Johnson-

Small’s renaming of herself as Last Yearz Interesting Negro, as discussed above, this is the

name that Johnson-Small, inspired by Basquiat, chose for herself. Johnson-Small explained to

me her reasoning behind this choice,

[…] because it is also something that I thought when I got the letter from

The Place, where, I am really happy, but also, that I know it is always there,

it is not something that you can extract from my world view, because I am

doubting anyone’s interest in me... is it because I am black, is it because of

this… is it because of my hair… so somehow putting that at the forefront,

or putting that out [there], because it’s always with me, feels quite good

(Johnson-Small, 2018)

As our first encounter with her work, Johnson-Small forefronts her double consciousness

through the renaming of herself, demonstrating the knowledge of the racialised body and hair

that she holds signify a history and the “other” in British society. This is exemplified in

Johnson-Small’s reflections about her time at Edge when Johnson-Small was astutely aware

of the responsibility that presenting her body carries. The choice to perform under this title

evidences Johnson-Small’s awareness of how as a person creating art in a gendered brown

body there are particular gazes (colonial, exotic etc.) upon her. In Johnson-Small fore

fronting the awareness of her doubleness, she presents a clarity over her position in society

that ‘feels quite good’ (Johnson-Small, 2018). Double consciousness will be discussed further

in chapter nine as a theoretical characteristic of British Caribbean Diasporic identities. In

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relation to rooting, this initial act by Johnson-Small generates an insurgent agency that

through movement de-commodifies (Francis, 2015, p.4) and decolonises the body of its gazes

and preconceptions. Johnson-Small’s dancing as Last Yearz Interesting Negro mirrors

Achilles transformative rooting of a Caribbean tree (roots) into a canoe through which he

routes across the seas of his ancestral heritage (Walcott, 1990). Through the transforming of

her name (ancestral heritage) into a vehicle through a space of performative becoming,

Johnson-Small as Last Yearz Interesting Negro engages a practice of rooting through which

she separates her doubleness shifting societal predispositions.

The performance of Johnson-Small’s rooting within i ride is predominately experienced

through aural, digital, and the physical. Through a practice of rooting in which Johnson-Small

presents her multiplicity, these elements create a network through which Johnson-Small

centres herself and creates new ways of imagining/imaging her body (Francis, 2015, p.4),

producing embodied knowledges of herself that she shares with the audience.

As mentioned above, we receive Johnson-Small’s presences multiply and in layers. A dark

stage with minimal lighting and a futuristic setting submerges the audience into a realm of

Johnson-Small’s creation. We first experience Johnson-Small digitally, as video projections

display her being first singularly and then in multiples. We first hear Johnson-Small’s voice

as a recording of the words “I am practising avoidance” spills into the auditorium over a

dense atmospheric soundscape. This layering creates a sound/visual-scape of Johnson-

Small’s being in which we experience Johnson-Small intangibly through a realm of her

creation, subverting our expectations of seeing Johnson-Small physically perform. In Mayer’s

(2000) reading of Glissant’s notion of submerged roots, she illuminates the agency in

functioning and creating within a ‘world below’ which exists beyond power and signification

(Mayer, 2000, p.561). It is a realm that is both reality and fantasy and which finds its

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belonging in the future just as much as the past (Mayer, 2000), existing beyond and within

the continuum of time. Johnson-Small’s initial practice of rooting takes place in a liminal

space, a submerged realm, in what Martin (1998) identifies as an ‘imaginary world and

momentary materialisation’ (Martin, 1998, p.109) a futuristic space that is not of this world, a

place where Johnson-Small’s experiences are centred. In the interview Johnson-Small had

with Fifth Sense magazine, she explained her reflections at the time of creating i ride,

[…] I was writing about my desire as being symptomatic of my

circumstances and subject position, as something that has been given to me

rather than something that emanates from me and whose co-option (by white

supremacist imperialist neoliberal capitalism) has at times encouraged me

to contribute to my own erasure. I had had enough of this. I wanted to

uncover my desires […]

(Johnson-Small in Capps, 2017)

In Johnson-Small’s futuristic creation on stage, we are beyond time and location, in a space

of Johnson-Small’s performative becoming. Her presence is offered to the audience through

self-enquiry, statements of positions and personal dedications as we hear Johnson-Small’s

voice say, “I no longer believe in trees as concepts”, “I exist in between the beat, the thuds”,

“my body is a stack of systems that do not stop, and they are loud”, “this one is for you”

revealing the inner thoughts of Johnson-Small.

In this space of Johnson-Small’s creation, we continue to experience Johnson-Small digitally.

After the first section, one digital Johnson-Small is joined by five others, all engaging in their

own small dance, all identifiable on their own. One version of Johnson-Small, for example,

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wears shiny black leggings, Nike Air Jordan trainers and a black jumper with two white

stripes across the chest and down the arms, her small locks in two buns on her head, move up

and down with a bouncing movement that takes her slightly lower each time, before reversing

the movement to come back up again, flexing at the knees with her arms in the air, her head

stays focussed on the floor. This movement has a club-like quality to it; this feeling is

emphasised by the way that Johnson-Small dances this movement inwardly, there is an

indulgence to this movement. The multiple digital Johnson-Small’s in this research’s reading

of the movement, (re)present different aspects of Johnson-Small’s identity, through different

movement phrases, through different ways of manipulating time and being in movement.

During our conversation, Johnson-Small told me that she wanted to experience an aesthetic

that was produced through the centring of herself (Johnson-Small, 2018). Through this digital

representation, we experience the aesthetic of Johnson-Small’s complexity in the public space

of the theatre. This is a nuance that is not automatically afforded to British Caribbean

Diasporic people (or anyone who is not of the dominant culture), who are still reduced to

homogeneity and stereotyping. Experiencing Johnson-Small through the centring of herself is

indicative of a practice of rooting that is simultaneously stripping colonialist notions of

Johnson-Small’s body, dancing, and identity whilst making room to centre Johnson-Small’s

experiences.

Only after the aural and digital presences of Johnson-Small have been established do we

experience Johnson-Small physically. When Johnson-Small does reveal herself physically to

the audience, her presence is understated; a slow birthing from under a plastic sheet reveals

Johnson-Small shrouded in darkness. Johnson-Small moves slowly, taking intentional steps

downstage as the dense fast-paced sound surrounding her swells in juxtaposition. Johnson-

Small’s presence brings with it a movement vocabulary that is constituted of dense,

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disjointed, and a minimalistic aesthetic that is filled with tension, repetitions, and heaviness

yet still finds flow. In our conversation Johnson-Small reflected on this aesthetic,

Because if my history is so fragmented, so like fractured, so broken as you

say, how then do I understand flow, because that’s all I know. I’m just

thinking a lot about the way that I move, the pauses the gaps the breaks the

tension, the things that maybe have been read as aggressive or violent, how

much that is me flowing, and not to say that this is a violent and aggressive

history at all, that is not it necessarily, but that there is a different physical

relationship, to time, to space to energy, to my own body …

(Johnson-Small, 2018)

Through Johnson-Small’s reflection on the fractured flow of her movement aesthetic in i ride,

we can consider her movement to be reflective of the ancestral histories and environments of

British Caribbean Diasporic identities that are fractured and disjointed as Johnson-Small

recognises. Fractured flowing mirrors the nature of rhizomatic rooting which is constituted of

linear multiplicities and has multiple entry and exit points (Deleuze and Guattari, 1987, p.21).

Like the tidalectic waves I was subsumed by in Senegal (prologue), these connections

between flows are not always lyrical but can be staccato. In this way, it is possible to position

Johnson-Small’s aesthetic within Patten’s conceptualisation of the corporeal dancing body,

which draws down on ancestral data (Stines, 2005) and cultural memory (Buckland, 2001).

The embodying of this aesthetic, again, acts as a channel through which Johnson-Small

engages in an embodied enquiry and considers her own identity in relation to the histories

and legacies that her body signifies and her movement reflects.

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Whilst we can read this movement aesthetic as embodying ancestral data and cultural

memory, present within this movement there is also the presence of the temporal now, in

which Johnson-Small exudes pleasure; her movement deepening as opposed to spreading out.

We see this happening throughout the piece, as Johnson-Small takes small movement phrases

and travels with slow intention across the stage repeating movement phrases over her body.

As a practice of rooting this deepening is revealing of an embodied journey, a tracing through

movement of body and identity. As these depths are mapped, Johnson-Small, once again,

subverts power structures (Mayer, 2000) clearing space for her to (be)come.

Within Johnson-Small’s aesthetic, there is an unearthing of embodied knowledge through a

direct (improvised) address to the audience in which Johnson-Small is vulnerable to the

audience as she confesses fantasies, narcissism, pain, and moves through grief as she centres

herself. Through this research’s reading of Johnson-Small’s choreography as rooting, it

interprets that a clearing process occurs through decolonisation that allows this vulnerability

to take place through her brown gendered body in a public space. Johnson-Small spoke to me

of her constant consciousness of her body in relation to whiteness in her everyday life, ‘[…]

This then makes me think about audience participation and why I am interested in it, because

of this thing of navigating the performance space as someone who is very easily considered

aggressive by an audience […]’ (Johnson-Small, 2018). I asked Johnson-Small why she

thinks she is considered aggressive, she speculated, ‘because I move fast in sharp ways?

Because I am black?’ (Johnson-Small, 2018). In our conversation Johnson-Small told me that

she was trying to undo the ways she manages her body around ‘white people’ in the way that

she manages her body and her voice in her everyday life (Johnson-Small, 2018), that she is

trying to design spaces where this does not occur (Johnson-Small, 2018). Within the space

that Johnson-Small designs in i ride a process of embodied decolonisation occurs through the

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naming of herself and her digital and aural presences and the repetitive depth of her

movement through which she subverts expectations and power structures. In this way,

Johnson-Small is able to exist and present a level of vulnerability that is not necessarily

possible outside of this futuristic decolonised realm of her creation.

During the class I took with Johnson-Small, she asked us to lay on one another and voice our

streams of consciousness. In our conversation after the exercise, we discussed the idea of the

layers of information our bodies hold, accessing those layers and relating to those layers, the

layers of ourselves, and the layers of other people and finding entry points to those layers.

This quest to relate to and access the embodied layered knowledge that we hold is one that

Francis recognises as producing new ways of imagining the creolised body which has been

predominately thought of as exotic or ecstatic (Francis, 2015, p.4). It becomes a tool in which

to (re)present ourselves. Within, i ride, we see the process of relating embodied knowledge

through Johnson-Small’s relationship with the audience. The audience is invited to dance,

observe more intimately, and come closer into the curated space of Johnson-Small’s

embodied enquiry in which knowledge production is occurring. Thus, whilst Johnson-Small’s

practice of rooting flows from the inside out, it is also outward-facing and open for the

audience to participate in. As she invites them into the space of her creation, where her

personhood is centred, both Johnson-Small and the audience can imagine Johnson-Small in

alternative ways through intimacy and proximity, as she dances both for us and amongst us,

connecting with us physically (as described above). This way of rooting goes back to

Glissant’s notion of Relation (Glissant, 1997); the other existing within the becoming of

ourselves. Chapter nine will consider Johnson-Small’s relation with the audience in the space

of performative becoming she creates.

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Johnson-Small’s practice of rooting within i ride can be seen within this embodied enquiry to

explore what it means to be and centre herself within the discourses that are happening

around her body and exist within the British and world contexts. Through the embodiment of

this aesthetic Johnson-Small’s choreography becomes a rhizomatic presentation of herself, of

the parts seen and unseen, the invisible sufferings of grief, of multiplicity, and complexity of

self. It is decolonisation that provides the space to shift power hierarchies of the gazes and

systems that she is subject to. In the deconstructed, dense and minimalistic movement

aesthetic that Johnson-Small offers, a rhizomatic tracing occurs, one that is both decentred

and detached (Deleuze and Guattari, 1987, p.21) from one phrase to the next, an embodied

enquiry into an identity that is becoming and exists apart from whiteness.

This chapter has considered the ways Johnson-Small’s practice of rooting within i ride is

decolonial and clears a space through which she can re(present) herself holistically. It

demonstrates how Johnson-Small’s rooting functions as self-enquiry that reveals embodied

knowledge in which alternative ways of imagining herself can occur. Through this

knowledge production, Johnson-Small creates a space of performative becoming. The

interpretations in this chapter highlight how rooting, as conceptualised in chapter four, can be

read within Johnson-Small’s choreography and has not intended to reduce Johnson-Small or

her practice. The final chapter of analysis (8) will look at the choreography of Jamaican born

Akeim Toussaint Buck.

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Chapter 8: Reading Rooting in Akeim Toussaint Buck’s

Windows of Displacement

The final analysis chapter of this thesis will read rooting within the choreography of Akeim

Toussaint Buck. This chapter will consider how Buck’s formation of a Nation Language

movement aesthetic within his solo Windows of Displacement, works as a practice of rooting

through which Buck enters into an embodied transcendence where he pulls together the

multiplicity of his identity. Born in Lucea, Jamaica, Buck graduated from Northern School of

Contemporary Dance in 2014. Since graduating, Buck has worked collaboratively and danced

with several dance companies. Buck is an eclectic choreographer whose artistic practice is

still forming. His work addresses political and social issues nationally and internationally

whilst exploring the use of theatre and voice within his creations. The reading of Buck’s

rooting in this chapter does not purpose to reduce Buck or his practice but demonstrate how

rooting works within his choreography as a tool through which he navigates his multiplicity

and creates a space of performative becoming (more in chapter nine). This chapter will mirror

the structure of the previous three analysis chapters. It will first outline Windows of

Displacement. It will then go onto contextualise Windows of Displacement within Buck’s

personal narrative and history, before finally considering Buck’s Nation Language movement

aesthetic as a practice of rooting.

Windows of Displacement, Buck’s debut solo piece of work deals with the intersectional

complexities of a diasporic identity (Uzor, 2018b). As narrator, Buck takes us on a journey

which is in part autobiographical. Starting in Jamaica, his birthplace, the audience travels and

faces the realities of slavery, politics in Jamaica and the process of becoming a British

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citizen. Buck questions and highlights ironies and conflicts in the relationship between

Britain and the colonial islands, as well as celebrating the cultural expressions that have been

produced from them. The piece forces the audience to confront their social responsibilities

and is a call to actively seek unity with the people we are in community with. Although

Windows of Displacement is a continuous fifty-five-minute piece, it could be split into two

distinct sections. The first sees Buck’s journey from his Jamaican roots to receiving British

citizenship at the age of twenty-two through his experience of the immigration system in

Britain. The piece then takes a wider look at the plight of refugees and the oppression of

people. In what could be considered the second section of the piece, we see Buck questioning

how parts of the world (more specifically Congo) uphold the luxuries of the West. The piece

concludes with a call to the audience to speak up and step out against systems of oppression.

I saw the piece as part of Refugee Week at the West Yorkshire Playhouse in 2017, and for the

analysis of this research, Buck provided a full-length recording of the piece. The

autobiographical nature of the piece means that it is particularly useful when considering how

Buck’s choreography works as a practice of rooting his British Caribbean Diasporic identity.

The piece is a series of narratives, monologues, poetry, spoken word, and song which are all

directed to the audience as Buck breaks the fourth wall. The speech within the piece is

interluded and intertwined with movement as Buck uses dance as the medium in which the

speech is held. In a review I wrote of the piece, I characterised it as a soft confrontation,

I use the term soft confrontation not to represent meekness, but to portray

Buck’s approach in which he presents stark realities with eloquent humour

and vulnerability. By telling his own story, referencing his mother,

childhood games and memories, Buck openly presents himself to the

audience [...] Buck presents an accessibility that does not diminish the

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seriousness of the history and its implications, and at the same time, is

patient, open, and vulnerable, it is a confrontation laced with love, and one

that invites you into the story through love

(Uzor, 2018b)

The piece begins with Buck singing Rastaman Chant44 acapella, in a deep, strong voice, that

has a slight Jamaican twang to it. This is to be the voice of the narrator throughout the piece.

The song acts as a sort of incantation, as Buck’s voice resounds throughout the auditorium.

Buck stands centre stage with a soft yellow light on him, creating a glow. His torso is bare,

and half of his shoulder-length small dreadlocks are tied back away from his face. He wears

cotton trousers printed with a Black on white Angelina design typically associated with the

Dashiki, with a skirt of the same material around his waist which is cut into four panels.

As Buck sings the first stanza, he remains still. He pauses, and then begins the next stanza,

“hear the words of the Iya man say, Babylon your throne gone down, gone down, Babylon

your throne gone down”. Buck slowly eases into movement that goes into the floor through

deep pliés and extended arms as he travels diagonally downstage. There is an anticipation in

his movement as it coincides with his singing. The rest of the chant continues in this way as

Buck sings ending centre stage with the lyrics, “one bright morning when this life is over, I

will fly away home”. As he ends, Buck begins to direct questions in his narrative voice to the

audience, “what is past? What is present? when problems of the past, present in the future

how can we say we are working together to create a better future? Buck continues to ask a

44 Arranged by Bob Marley in 1973 from the Nyabinghi chant Babylon Your Throne Gone Down.

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series of questions to the audience, each sentence punctuated or interrupted by movement, as

he moves across the stage. As Buck questions who we are, he introduces himself, “Who am

I? Universal Being, Human, Man, Africa, Jamaica, British, Eh Up Leeds!”

This introduction leads Buck to talk about the country of his birth. Within this section, Buck

tells the audience about the resilience of the Jamaican people, who still smile no matter the

situation. He speaks of the many tourists that come to that land and the mark of the slave

trade on the island and its people. Buck talks of the complex power struggle between the

Jamaican citizens and the British. How the British colonised the minds of the enslaved

Africans giving them songs and customs, how the once enslaved fought for a kingdom in

which they would never be an equal citizen or be able to access freely.

At this point a video is projected onto the back of the stage showing abstract images forming

into women dancing and people fighting, the lights are turned down as the voice of the

narrator is heard over a Nyabinghi riddim through the sound system. Buck continues to move

through this section, as the narrative voice speaks in poetry of the enslaved Africans, the

ferocious Koromanti/Maroon Slaves and Jamaica’s infamous eighteenth-century Maroon

warrior Queen Nanny. Buck dances with an intense purpose, his movement, at times,

grounded and low, moving from the basic Capoeira Ginga step to a round kick, and a

butterfly kick, into lyrical waving of the torso and hips and arms and Dinki Mini steps.

As the video and Nyabinghi come to an end, Buck continues in the narrative voice, in low

light. Buck introduces the politics of Jamaica, tracing the link of corruption from Jamaica’s

colonial history to the issues present in the political system today. Much like the first

segment, this monologue is directed at the audience and is punctuated with movement.

Ending this monologue, Buck brings the audience’s attention to how the system of debt

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directly affects the children of the island. He brings this monologue to an end with a final

thought on Jamaica, “a country where it’s hard for children to excel, because every inhale,

exhale is a miracle, because many are living in hell”.

Leaving the audience with that heavy thought in the air, Buck, imitating the sounds of a

machine processing, moves breaking his body and moving energy around it. Buck finishes

and describes the fortune that he had in being able to leave Jamaica when he did, whilst also

recognising the struggle that so many experience in his birth land. Again, Buck moves

throughout this explanation, at times acting out phrases of his monologue. Towards the end of

this section, Buck mimes scooping up a baby, breaking character Buck offers the child to an

audience member, who receives it carefully from Buck. Buck changes his address to the

audience and continues in his personal voice.

This next segment acts as a transition segment between the first two sections, as Buck

addresses us in his personal voice which has a distinct soft northern English twang. Buck

teaches the audience a call and response song that he sang as a child in Jamaica when he

played a stone passing game called Emmanuel Road. Buck teaches the audience the response,

“gyal and bwoy”, and begins to dance as the audience respond to his call. Buck slows and

speeds up the rhythm of the game as he dances. He ends the dance and song, explaining to the

audience how it will continue to come back throughout the piece. Buck continues to speak

about the song, and what it means to him, we hear his voice morph once again, into the

narrative voice, which holds more authority.

Buck begins to move across the stage once again, transitioning us back into the narrative of

the piece, where Buck narrates his immigration journey. He tells the audience how he spent

four years waiting before receiving his indefinite leave to remain at fourteen; after this, he

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waited a further eight years to receive British citizenship. Throughout this section, Buck

moves minimally, except for a continuous clicking of his fingers, which begins as he tells his

story kneeling stage right. This clicking continues, at times he pauses as he conducts another

move. For example, when he explains he had to pay for his Life in the UK test, he opens his

palms up towards the audience, before continuing the clicking. As Buck explains the

strenuous nature of applying for visas and taking tests the clicking has a stronger physical

effect on his body. His arms move across his body in the space between each click, landing

on the click with great tension. Contorting his body Buck explains how he had to jump

through hoops and get various pieces of paper stamped.

As Buck’s speech comes to an end, the screen at the back of the stage shows abstract outlines

of people lining up and travelling. Buck steps back into darkness, a child’s voice is played

into the auditorium, the child struggles to read the piece of spoken word, which speaks of a

child’s escape from a war-torn country to the UK to seek refuge. The child outlines fear,

memories of death, and the struggle to settle into a new country. As the child’s voice is

played, Buck moves across the stage in the low light, his movement embodying the emotion

that is absent in the voice of the child. As the child’s voice ends, Buck is kneeling centre

stage, he sings his call, “go down Emmanuel Road” slowly and contemplatively. Hesitantly

the audience sings the response. Buck continues, increasing the rhythm of the song quickly as

he goes back to the original Dinki Mini step that he previously danced to the song, Buck

travels around the stage ending downstage right.

Back in the narrator’s voice, Buck delivers a monologue which considers the systems that

perpetuate nationalism, war, colonialism, capitalism, and the response people have to these

systems. Once again, this monologue is punctuated with movement that embodies the words

being said. As this third and penultimate monologue ends, Buck breaks the character of the

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narrator and addresses the audience in his personal voice, asking for a smartphone, he

requests for an audience member to take a selfie with him. He then extends this invitation to

the audience, asking them to take a selfie with someone they do not know. As the audience

does this Buck beatboxes a countdown timer. In his personal voice, Buck explains how he

loves smartphones, that they are “like a key that opens the world”, but as he considers the

effect of the manufacturing process of smartphones he cannot help but wonder what effect

our consumption of them is having on countries like the Congo.

A young voice singing the Tanzanian song Malaika acapella in Swahili is played, over the

singing voice, a young girl speaks a poem about the mining that takes place in the Congo to

make smartphones work. With rhythmic stepping Buck moves across the stage, performing a

phrase that has the essence of the Gumboot dances (Isicathulo) of South Africa. The singing

and poem end, Buck begins to sing Go Down Emmanuel Road slowly, the audience responds.

As Buck sings, he slowly drags himself across the stage, before standing up and increasing

the tempo of the song once again. In his narrative voice, Buck addresses the audience in his

final monologue of the piece. Buck speaks about the ideologies of capitalist systems which he

believes to be failing humanity, dancing his words out on stage. The monologue ends with

Buck charging the audience with small acts of protests and activism through radical acts of

kindness and awareness of ourselves. Using inspiration from Burning Spear’s Jordan River45,

Buck proclaims, “no weak heart can enter this-a river is a statement of the collective, no weak

45 Written by Winston Rodney and Phillip Fullwood in 1975.

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heart can enter this-a river is a statement of strength, no weak heart can enter this-a river is a

statement of joy!”

Buck starts his final phrase of movement, with a series of small jumps coinciding with the

drum and bass of Burning Spears Jordan River, eyes closed, Buck moves from stage left and

falls into the centre, off-balance. Buck continues to move to the rhythm of the song, his torso

leading, the rest of his body seamlessly moving to keep him on balance, he spins, and there is

an accent shoulder rolling forward, and a lifting of the opposite leg flexed at the knee. A few

more turns and Buck catches himself, undulating, he allows the wave it brings to move his

weight down, grounding him lower into the floor stepping out with his right leg to catch it.

The phrase continues with Buck adopting a range of dance aesthetics from Africanist and

Western traditions forming a unique movement vocabulary. Eyes closed the phrase ends, with

both the lights and the music fading out. Buck stands centre stage eyes closed, still moving

off-balance, singing in between intakes of breath the lyrics, “roll, roll, roll Jordan River a go

roll” as he clicks his fingers keeping him in time. After a few lines, Buck’s gaze refocuses on

the audience, he stops singing but continues clicking, as he says in his narrative voice, “we

the ninety-nine per cent against the one per cent, we the ninety-nine per cent are a Jordan

River, We the ninety-nine per cent will not stop rolling, we the ninety-nine per cent are key.”

Blackout.

Having outlined Windows of Displacement, this chapter will now contextualise the piece

within Buck’s personal narrative and history.

When considering the prevalent themes of Windows of Displacement, the research identifies

that there is a strong underpinning of Caribcentric spirituality, stemming from Rastafarian

and Kumina practices, seen in the chants and movement aesthetics that Buck performs. The

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piece also has a strong didactic nature, in the way that stories of slavery, resistance, political

turmoil and injustice is spoken about within the United Kingdom, Jamaica, and the Congo.

This is achieved through a strong audience rapport that Buck attains through his narrative

voice, audience participation and direct address. We also see storytelling throughout the piece

that has a critical tone, as Buck questions systems across the world. When thinking about

practices of rooting, however, this research is interested in the way that Buck uses a range of

Africanist, Eastern, and Western dance aesthetics to create his own Nation Language that he

performs in Windows of Displacement to access an embodied transcendence through which

he (re)creates his identity.

When considering Buck’s movement vocabulary, it is important to map Buck’s migration

from Jamaica to Leeds. The movement language Buck uses within Windows of Displacement

can be considered an embodied reckoning of this journey and the experiences he has had

living and consuming culture within the Caribbean, Britain, and the British Caribbean

Diaspora. Buck’s encounter with various movement aesthetics forms movement vocabulary

that exists on the continuum of creolisation that is continually transforming as it adapts to

new environments (Brathwaite, 1995).

Buck told me that he caught the dancing spirit from his mother, ‘[…] she was part of a dance

troupe… and she was the one they would put in the circle or the cypher and say “Audrey

[Buck’s mother] just dance”. She wouldn’t learn the steps, but she would go in, and the spirit

would take her, and she would just move… so I have that in me’ (Buck, 2017). Buck recalled

being four years old and being ushered on stage to dance at community events. He

remembers dancing at a neighbour’s party at six years old, everybody looking at him, and

someone saying “ah Audrey boi deh, look pon ow im a gwan” (Buck, 2017).

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As a boy, Buck would be ‘lost in his own world’ and remembers playing for hours in the

backyard, which they call ‘lantop’, after school (Buck, 2017). Buck would pick up a stick and

sword fight in battles of his imagination. When reflecting with me, Buck recognised this time

playing on lantop as being a part of the beginning of his interest in movement, that he had

always been dancing even when he was not aware of it. An observant child, Buck loved

Michael Jackson and remembers learning how to moonwalk and the dances of Jackson by

watching his feet on TV and catching all the detail. As a child, Buck was not only absorbing

Caribbean dance aesthetics and culture but through Black cultural traffic, he was able to

absorb African Diasporic popular movement forms as they travelled through globalisation

and technology.

At the age of ten, Buck travelled alone from Jamaica to Britain to visit his mother. He arrived

13th December 2001, his mother’s birthday, ‘that was the first time on a plane by myself, so it

was quite nerve-racking, but there was this girl sat next to me who was a bit older, she was

thirteen, so I just chatted with her… I was coming over here for a holiday, but then I decided

to stay, I wanted to stay with my mum. That’s another thing, I loved my mum, and I still do’

(Buck, 2017). Buck remembers England being cold, a type of cold he had not experienced

before. When he arrived, he stayed in Barking with his mother and a friend of his mother’s,

who he called Auntie Donna. There was a community around Auntie Donna and his mother,

and as a result, Buck recalls feeling ‘held’ in Barking, a safe place for him to transition into

his new life in England (Buck, 2017).

Buck told me that in England dance was not something he pursued, but something that found

him (Mendez expresses a similar sentiment). He never sought vocational training, but always

found that it was a part of his life. As a teenager, Buck’s friends were dancers, mainly wavers

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and breakers. Buck remembers hanging out in Leeds and practising tutting in front of the

mirrors in the city,

[…] I think it's dancing on the street, that’s where dance started for me, it

started with a really ragtag bunch of misfits, who would hang out on the

streets in front of McDonald's, and it was such a relief, that was my relief,

that was my medicine, [At] that time it was really crucial to be dancing at

fifteen, sixteen, because I just felt so lost, because what am I going to do

about uni? About college? It became really difficult…

(Buck, 2018)

Buck attended Notre Dame College in Leeds, where he was studying Philosophy, Sociology,

Theatre Studies, I.T. and General Studies. Buck told me that one day he found a flyer that

was offering AS level dance classes on a part-time basis (two evenings a week) at Park Lane

College (Buck, 2017). Buck decided that he would attend the classes at Park Lane College

and described them as the two best evenings of his life at the time (Buck, 2017), ‘it just

always felt good, in my body and mind, I was always just there… I needed to dance. I needed

to do it’ (Buck, 2017). When Buck’s final results arrived for his A-Levels, his Dance grades

were higher than the other subjects that he was studying, despite studying Dance part-time.

His Dance teacher at the time Briony Marston sat Buck down and encouraged him to

perform. Buck recalled the conversation to me, ‘[she] sat me down and asked me, “so Akeim,

what do you want to do... are you going to dance? Because look at this, look at your grades…

you are a good performer. Maybe you should perform, have you heard of the Northern

School of Contemporary Dance?”’ (Buck, 2017). With this encouragement, in 2009 Buck

decided to audition for Trinity Laban Conservatoire of Music and Dance, London

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Contemporary Dance School (LCDS) and The Northern School of Contemporary Dance

(NSCD). During his audition at Laban, Buck was stopped and asked if he had any Ballet

training, at that point he did not and consequently was not accepted into the school. Buck,

also failed to be accepted for LCDS, and so NSCD was Buck’s final hope at attending dance

school.

However, at this point in his journey, Buck was hospitalised for two weeks with an inflamed

kidney. During his time in the hospital, Buck with the ‘dance still in [him]’ (Buck, 2017),

continued to conduct research on choreographers and movement that he was interested in.

Wayne McGregor was of particular interest, and Buck began to connect McGregor’s work

with the Krumping that he was training in at the time. We can recognise this as the first time

that Buck began to form a movement language with the aesthetics in which he was training

that made sense to him and the way he wanted to move. ‘When I came out of hospital, I made

the best solo I had made in my life… I came out, and I was so determined, and I remember

Gurmit [Hukam] saying we are going to offer you a place on the foundation [course]’ (Buck,

2017). Half-way through the foundation course, Buck had the opportunity to audition for the

full degree course at Northern, ‘I remember back then… I came out of the office, but I

couldn’t stop smiling… I remember listening to that Nicki Minaj song, “I wish I could have

this moment for life” and just being in tears, because back then, no one in my family had

been to university… and for me to do what I love and be in university, it was really powerful,

so powerful, and I didn’t realise it until that moment’ (Buck, 2017).

In 2014, Buck graduated from Northern School of Contemporary Dance but had no desire to

audition for any apprenticeship schemes. The only company Buck would have auditioned for

as an apprentice would have been Tavaziva Dance Company, but at the time, Buck explained

making money was a bigger priority (Buck, 2017). In the five years that Buck has been

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working professionally, he has worked for a plethora of companies and collaboratively46 on

projects, forging a movement aesthetic and philosophy that is integral to all that he believes

in.

Buck’s movement aesthetic throughout most of Windows of Displacement is formed of

Western Contemporary Dance aesthetics, with a release technique focus which allows Buck

to move in, out, and across the floor with ease. This Western aesthetic is joined with a range

of African Diasporic dance aesthetics including stylisation from Breaking and Capoeira. We

see Africanist grounding of the body and Southern African stepping. There is also a strong

Caribcentric use of the spine present in most of the movement phrases. We see this through

the lyrical waving of the spine, undulation, in his use of the Isicathulo, and in the Dinki Mini

steps that are worked through Western aesthetics as described earlier. During our embodied

exchange in the studio, Buck and I discussed our physical response to the question of home.

Buck mentioned the importance of the spine within his movement, ‘I started thinking about

my spine, and I started thinking about memories that are in my spine, I don’t know where that

came from, probably the whole home thing, and it was stirring around like a soup, and that

[memories] brought out more articulation in the spine’ (Buck, 2018).

The idea of the spine or particular parts of the body holding memories or knowledge in

specific types of movement is one that is prevalent within scholarly thought around African

and African Diasporic and contemporary Western movement. These ideas are signifying of

46 Initially when Buck left Northern, he went to work for Wriggle Dance Theatre, a children’s company, where he worked on a show Once in a Blue Moon (2015/16). Since then he has danced with Jamaal Burkmar Dance, BalletLORENT, Heather Walton Dance, Mayers Ensemble and more.

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the corporeality of movement (Foster, 1995b). Patten (2017) in particular theorises the

presence of memories in the body in his notion of the corporeal dancing body, building on the

work of Buckland (2001) (cultural memory), Sklar (1994) (embodied knowledge) and Stines

(2005) (ancestral data). Welsh Asante (2001) identifies this within Africanist aesthetics as

Epic Memory and Dimensionality47.

In our embodied exchange session Buck had his own thoughts on the role that movement

plays in allowing us to have access to our own, ancestral and cultural memories, ‘[…] I find

that the body is like a circuit, that through the movement, it allows stuff to pass through’

(Buck, 2018). Buck’s identification of the spine as being a place where memories are held

align with the theorisations of the above scholars. In Windows of Displacement, the centrality

of Buck's spine within his Nation Language can be read as Buck accessing these memories

just as he did within our embodied exchange. When thinking about the use of the spine in

relation to Fabre’s observations of the Limbo dance, we can recognise the access to the

central column of the body as a stage of possibility through which recollection and

reassembly can occur (Fabre, 1999, p.43). During Windows of Displacement, Buck embodies

the memories of his enslaved ancestors and his own migration journey, he makes connections

to the Congo and refugee children. These memories are all embodied through the central

grounding of the spine.

As Buck moves through his own memories and the memories of others during Windows of

Displacement, his movement and use of the spine act as a site of transformation, from

47 See Appendix B

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preconceived notions of his identity, into the complexity of his own identity. When speaking

about his identity Buck told me, ‘[…] and then I came to this country, and even ideas of

masculinity started to be imposed on me […] I learnt that I was a black male from being here

[…]’ (Buck, 2017). The use of various movement aesthetics (as described above) and forms

within his own movement vocabulary work together to form Buck’s personal Nation

Language. This language is a signal of Buck’s multiplicitous transnational identity that goes

beyond societal constructs of blackness, masculinity, or national borders. This research

suggests that Buck’s Nation Language (which is drawing on a plethora of ancestral and

cultural references) is part of a ‘total expression’ (Brathwaite, 1984, p.311) that is reflective

of a continuum of the cultural affinities within his identity.

It is during the final five minutes of Windows of Displacement that we see how Buck’s

Nation Language movement aesthetic acts as a practice of rooting of embodied transcendence

through which Buck affirms his identity and spreads his philosophies. After an intense

moving monologue in which Buck directly addresses the audience to consider their personal

responsibilities in the oppression of people, Buck talks about his personal philosophies on

love, self-awareness, and action. Buck encourages the audience to see the similarities

amongst each other and come together in unity. Buck’s speech is punctuated through a range

of movement that brings him into the floor and back out again. Buck stops throughout in

strong stances, such as fists clenched, one arm in front or one behind, or arms open as if to

welcome us into these ideologies.

Ending the previous movement monologue with the words “No weak heart can enter this-a

river, is a statement of the collective, no weak heart can enter this-a river, is a statement of

strength, no weak heart can enter this-a river is a statement of joy!”. As the word “joy” leaves

Buck’s mouth an exhalation of liberation flows forth, Burning Spear’s Jordan River engulfs

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the auditorium and Buck enters what this research identifies as an embodied transcendence

occurring within movement. We see an amalgamation of Caribbean lyricism, yoga, martial

arts, contemporary Western aesthetics, animal flow, and Africanist aesthetics pour out

seamlessly from Buck’s body. He dances for himself, rarely looking at the audience,

journeying within.

An example of his Nation Language occurs just after the introductory phrase of the final

section of movement. Travelling upstage on a diagonal pathway, Buck falls off demi point

and jumps into a crouching position. His arm scoop around his body, his palms down, turn to

face up. Buck’s upturned palms swing past the right of his body. He comes to a stand whilst

he travels backwards downstage. This backwards movement becomes a preparation step for

Buck to go into a barrel jump back upstage. Buck lands facing stage right; his hand hits the

ground propelling Buck into another jump which he does with his back facing the audience.

Buck lands, his arms flying up by his side, he extends his arms above his head which is

positioned upwards. Rolling his wrists, Buck keeps a rhythmic Reggae pulse present in his

body, whilst his hips roll in correlation with his wrists. Bringing his arms out to the side,

Buck gathers his arms from each side, his body keeping pulse and the lyrical rhythms of the

Caribbean waving through his arms and body. He brings this waving up his body and

continues this gathering motion for a while before sharply bringing his arms down into his

body which tilts back in response and repeats.

The Nation Language movement aesthetic Buck is using, especially in the final movement

section of Windows of Displacement as described above, is indicative of the unceasing

continuum of creolisation a characteristic of British Caribbean Diasporic identities (chapter

two). In Buck’s case, as a practice of rooting, this process of creolisation, seen through his

creation of a movement language creates a space for embodied transcendence. The reading of

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rooting that this research has conducted sees this transcendence occur in the final movement

section as described above. What is interesting here, is not only Buck’s choice to adopt

Burning Spear’s resilient lyrics as a soundtrack to this movement section, but also the

invocation of water imagery in the rolling Jordan river heard through the chorus of “roll roll

roll Jordan river a go roll” in the song. Buck emphasises this imagery through declarations at

the beginning of this final movement section saying, ‘no weak heart shall enter this-a river’.

The water imagery and Nation Language movement aesthetic take us to Brathwaite’s

tidalectics. Brathwaite’s conceptualisation is particularly pertinent here as it reflects the

dynamic process of continuity that is occurring across continents, the Black Atlantic and

beyond. Through Buck’s Nation Language movement aesthetic, he makes transnational

connections that arrive amalgamated at the shores of Buck’s body through which he pours

this aesthetic out on stage. Like Johnson-Small, Buck is making these connections in the

submerged realm through a rooting that is submarine (Glissant, 1997). Whilst Johnson-

Small’s realm is created through the stage, aural and digital landscapes. Buck’s submerging

happens in the body as he moves during this final section. As mentioned earlier, as Buck

dances in this section, he dances for himself, his eyes closed, a stark contrast from the

interactive rapport that Buck has had with the audience up until this point. During our

embodied exchange Buck reflected dancing to me, ‘[…] there is a transcendence to it as well,

but yet you are here, at this moment there is a sense of the whole universe or whatever just

taking place inside you, it’s really interesting (laughs)’ (Buck, 2018). Within this embodied

transcendental realm, Buck’s movement evidences the ‘cross-cultural relationships’ that are

‘floating free’ refusing to be fixed within time or space but continue to evolve and ‘extend in

all directions of our world’ through its rhizomatic network (Glissant, 1997). Not only is Buck

connecting transnationally with his Nation Language movement aesthetic, but through

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Patten’s understanding of the corporeal dancing body Buck is also accessing ancestral data

and cultural memory, Buck reflected this to me during our embodied exchange,

the question of home sparks that thing of going back to that… place, but

when you have moved from that place it lives in you through memories and

even beyond that, beyond your memory [ancestral], and things you can’t

even articulate because you don’t remember them, but they are still in you,

that’s what it felt like, that’s why going to the spine just always feels like an

upheaval of those things

(Buck, 2018)

Buck’s absorption of embodied knowledge through the spine is both past and present. He

moves through his Nation Language movement aesthetic transcending into a realm where he

experiences the ‘whole universe’ (Buck, 2018). Reconnecting with the audience at the end of

this movement section, Buck conveys his empowered message, “we the ninety-nine per cent

against the one per cent” “we the ninety-nine per cent are one”. Remerging from this

embodied transcendence, Buck has moved beyond the systems of race, borders, nations,

cultural and ancestral memories of pain, to an imagined future, in which Buck sees humanity

revolting against oppressive regimes and systems. Buck’s practice of rooting is one that

allows him to be seen as a multi-faceted being, he can be multidimensional, as he says

himself a Universal Being, Human, Man, African, Jamaican, British, who moves and

connects beyond borders transnationally and through time to give his message to the

audience.

This chapter has considered the practices of rooting present in the choreography of Akeim

Toussaint Buck. It has detailed his solo Windows of Displacement and contextualised it

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within Buck’s personal narrative and history. In doing this, the chapter has identified Buck’s

Nation Language movement aesthetic as a practice of rooting that enables him to move into

an embodied transcendence through which he subsumes his multiplicities and conveys his

personal ideologies to the audience. The interpretations presented in this chapter demonstrate

how the conceptualisation of rooting that this thesis offers can be read through Buck’s

choreography and does not intend to limit his practice or narrative to these ideas.

The end of this chapter marks the end of the analysis of the case study artists that this thesis is

concerned with. These chapters (five to eight) have outlined the different ways that practices

of rooting are working across the case study artists of this research. The reading of rooting

within these chapters focuses on the most prominent readings that the analysis identified.

Each practice of rooting is nuanced and reflects the personal and artistic concerns and aims of

the case study artists. The chapters have illustrated the fluid, multiplicitous, and rhizomatic

nature of the research’s notion of rooting, which forms complex networks in the submerged

realms of the body and movement.

The following chapter (nine) will consider the practices of rooting of each case study artist

through the theoretical characteristics of British Caribbean Diasporic identities, as discussed

in chapter two. In doing this the chapter will compare the different practices of rooting of

each case study artist. In addition to this, the chapter will also consider the spaces of

performative becoming that each artist is creating and will consider how these spaces are

affirming and establishing their British Caribbean Diasporic identities.

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Chapter 9: Conclusion

Studio Henriette, Ecoles des Sables 2016

I look out from studio Henriette across the Senegalese landscape; it is April, and the

vegetation has thrived into an almost jungle. It is my third visit to Ecoles des Sables, but it

feels different this time. As Alesandra (Seutin) gives the instructions for our creative class, I

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lose focus. I am thinking about the dance forms I have been embodying in class for the past

week or so, Afro-pop, Sabar, Contemporary, Acogny Technique, Voguing, House. Between

classes, the learning has continued as fifty participants from around the world commune

through their own movement vocabularies. The calling of this creative class- and the whole

course at that- is to learn the rules and then deconstruct them, to conduct an embodied

enquiry into the offerings of various dance techniques and explore where they take you.

I dance, and with each rotation of the shoulder and undulation of my spine consider what it

means to be me; British, Caribbean, Diasporic, on Senegalese soil and dancing. I do not

dance alone, through Epic Memory, I dance with my ancestors, those I have known, and

those I am yet to know. My enquiry takes me inwards, as I release everything I have been

taught into the distance, I open up to rooting, moving through the past, present, and consider

the future through these techniques that have somehow become a part of me. This experience

feels like a returning of myself that I never knew had left or needed to be found. It is in this

place, at this time, and through these movements that I am entering my becoming.

‘I write to show myself showing people who show myself my own showing’ (Minh-ha, 1989,

p.22)

--

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This thesis has explored identity formation within the choreographic work of British

Caribbean Diasporic artists. It has placed movement and embodied knowledge at the centre

of an interdisciplinary framework of analysis that included perspectives from Dance Studies,

Caribbean Studies, Cultural Studies and Postcolonial studies. In this, the thesis

conceptualised practices of rooting and spaces of performative becoming as notions through

which we can comprehend how identity is explored through the choreography of British

Caribbean Diasporic artists. Through a close reading of the case study artists’ work in the

previous four chapters, the thesis has demonstrated the various and nuanced ways that each

artist is (re)creating, affirming, and negotiating their identities through movement and

choreography. By way of conclusion, this chapter will first conduct a wider reading of

rooting using the theoretical characteristics of British Caribbean Diasporic identities (as

identified in chapter two) as a comparative base to consider more specifically how the case

study artists are navigating their identities through rooting. Finally, the chapter will consider

the spaces of performative becoming each case study artist is forming through their practices

of rooting.

9.1 Practices of Rooting

If we consider the practices of rooting of the case study artists, we can identify some clear

similarities occurring within the choreography this research is concerned with. For example,

Patten and Mendez both make clear transnational connections that are embedded in ancestral

knowledge. This knowledge produces a spiritual force that forms the choreography into a

space of performative becoming as will be discussed later in the chapter. Patten and Mendez

also utilise movement aesthetics and forms in their entirety. This is evident in the way that

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dances from specific genres and cultures are clearly identifiable within their choreography.

We see these aesthetics placed next to aesthetics from other genres and cultures to form

hybrid movement vocabularies. This is different from what we see aesthetically within

Johnson-Small and Buck’s rooting, which is strongly formed out of their experiences of

growing up in Britain and the socio-economic and political challenges that this has presented.

Both of their work shifts away from aesthetic boundaries and we see aesthetic styles and

forms deconstructed. We see an aesthetic language that reflects the synthesis of training

experiences of the respective artist. The difference between these artists could be attributed to

the generations of artists/ British Caribbean Diasporic identities (chapters two and three) that

each artist belongs to. Both Buck and Johnson-Small have trained as Western Contemporary

Dance practice has become more developed. Dance training saw a significant shift with the

New Dance movement, as well as an increased production of new cultural aesthetics and

movement languages that are reflective of Black British experiences during the time in which

they have been creating and performing (chapter three). Whereas Mendez and Patten were

creating and performing when these ideas were at their inception.

Chapter two contextualises the theoretical characteristics of Caribcentric, resistance and

double consciousness within the history of British Caribbean Diasporic identities and their

formation. To understand the differences and similarities between the case study artist, such

as the one made above, this section will utilise these characteristics as a comparative base

through which to read the rooting within the choreography as sites of identity formation and

negotiation.

9.1.1 Double Consciousness

When locating British Caribbean Diasporic identities in chapter two, the research explored

how those with diasporic identities experience what Du Bois terms as double consciousness

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(Du Bois, 1903, p.5). It is through double consciousness that many diasporic people and

indeed British Caribbean Diasporic people can, as CLR James identifies, have a unique

insight and a more profound revelation into the societies they live in (James,1984, p.55).

Double consciousness articulates the everyday tension embodied within the British Caribbean

Diasporic experience. It is the simultaneous internal awareness of oneself as an individual

and of how one is perceived as other. As Gilroy recognises, double consciousness is a topic

that reoccurs throughout the ‘intellectual history of the Black Atlantic’ (Gilroy, 1993, p.58).

This is no exception when conducting a wider reading of the practices of rooting of the case

study artists considered in this research. It is possible to read awareness of the ‘twoness’ (Du

Bois, 1903, p.5) described by Du Bois throughout the rooting of the case studies’

choreographic work. This evidences that the rooting within these artists’ work is engaging

with their British Caribbean Diasporic identities and experiences.

Double consciousness predominantly manifests within the case study artists’ work through

personal narrative and storytelling. This is seen in the work of Mendez, Patten, and Buck.

Both Buck and Mendez, use their personal experiences to portray their feelings of ‘twoness’

(Du Bois, 1903, p.5). In My Name is Not, Mendez emotionally describes the tension she feels

between how she relates to herself and the many labels that have been assigned to her as a

woman of mixed heritage navigating through both predominately white and black spaces as a

young adult. In our conversation, Buck also spoke of experiencing an awareness that he is

black, something that occurred when he moved from Jamaica to Britain (Buck, 2017). Buck

also described becoming aware of societal expectations of him as a male (Buck, 2017). In

Windows of Displacement, we see this awareness through the narration that Buck gives

around the process of him obtaining British Citizenship. Buck emphasises the emotional

strain of being deemed an outsider as he and his mother went through the visa process. As he

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describes this Buck’s body contorts with every sentence, his fingers clicking as punctuation.

In Ina de Wildanis, Patten demonstrates his awareness of double consciousness through the

experience of coming to England during the 1950s/60s. During the Letter to Mama in Ina de

Wildanis Patten’s character speaks of unanticipated rejection. He is not able to get a job,

housing, or even enter religious settings because he is Black.

Johnson-Small presents her awareness of double consciousness through the conceptualisation

of herself as Last Yearz Interesting Negro (as identified in chapter six). In addition to this,

there are many points during i ride as discussed earlier, at which Johnson-Small controls the

gaze of the audience; this predominately happens in the piece using lighting. However, there

are specific moments as Johnson-Small moves around the stage and the auditorium, that she

is more intimate with the audience. For example, as the audience we experience Johnson-

Small in close proximity as she changes her costume amongst us and invites us onto the stage

to dance or to watch her dance. At times she dances close, in the next breath, Johnson-Small

refuses our gaze, distributes blindfolds amongst the audience, and continues to dance. As

Johnson-Small controls our gaze, she dismantles herself as other and subverts dominant

power structures which position her as object, both in society and in the space of the theatre,

producing her own space (Lefebvre, 1991, p.170).

When considering how the case study artists are engaging with double consciousness through

practices of rooting within their choreography, we see that double consciousness functions to

provide commentary on the positioning of those with British Caribbean Diasporic identities.

In this way, double consciousness within the work of the case study artists has a political

consciousness. We see this in Johnson-Small’s conceptualisation of herself and her

subverting and controlling the gaze of the audience. This political consciousness is also

present within Mendez, Buck, and Patten’s choreography. At the end of My Name is Not,

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Mendez exclaims ‘I am not a colour, I am a culture!’. The frustration that Mendez portrays at

this point confronts systems that perpetuate arbitrary race classifications which have forced

an unwanted identity that is steeped in colonial history onto Mendez. Likewise, Buck talks of

his life being on pause and jumping through hoops; he questions the fairness of the British

visa system considering the country’s past with the Caribbean. Similar sentiments are also

implied within the Letter to Mama section of Ina de Wildanis, as Patten’s character describes

experiencing the Colour Bar.

When constituted within practices of rooting double consciousness functions to centre the

experiences of British Caribbean Diasporic identities. This is true across the case study

artists. When thinking about the traditional pursuits of roots, Gilroy identifies that this kind of

rooting often denies the full historical ‘character of the black experience’ (Gilroy, 1993,

p.112). The expanded dynamic notion of rooting that this thesis conceptualises allows for the

experiences of those with British Caribbean Diasporic identities to be visible and recognised.

Most of the case study artists engage with double consciousness in similar ways through

storytelling and the use of narrative, except for Johnson-Small who uses conceptual and

choreographic/staging tools. The presence of double consciousness within these artists’ work

evidences that it is something that is very much present for those with British Caribbean

Diasporic identities.

9.1.2 Caribcentric

First explored in chapter two, the Caribcentric is an approach that centres creolised Caribbean

experiences. In the context of British Caribbean Diasporic experiences, Caribcentric

ideologies re-encounter presence Européenne and its ideologies and cultures on British soil.

The Caribcentric is an approach that re-aligns the Caribbean experience from the islands to

Britain. Within creative expression, this is often seen in the prioritising of Caribbean

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languages and/or dialect, philosophies, and other cultural aesthetics within work. In the wider

reading of the practices of rooting of the case study artists, Caribcentric positionality is seen

in three ways: through movement, sonic dominance, and spirituality. This section will detail

these aspects of Caribcentricity within the case study artists’ work.

In chapter five, the analysis focuses on the cultural and spiritual continuities present within

Patten’s Ina de Wildanis. The way in which Patten choreographs can be identified as

Caribcentric through its centring of Caribbean experiences and the presence Africaine,

Européenne, and Américaine that constitute Caribbean identities. Patten’s use of traditional

African dances and Caribbean dance forms is a clear example of a Caribcentric approach to

choreography. Patten embodies these forms and makes connections between them, presenting

them as a continuity of one another as explored earlier in chapter five. In addition to

movement, Patten also uses songs, storytelling and languages that reflect Caribbean identities

and their lineages.

Caribcentricity is also present in the movement aesthetic that both Buck and Mendez use in

their practices of rooting. Both artists create creolised movement that reflects their

experiences and training. Mendez stretches the contemporary aesthetic within her

performance of extracts to incorporate the ‘heartbeat’ (Mendez, 2018) of Calypso, Soca and

other Africanist dance aesthetics as discussed in chapter six. The central ‘heartbeat’ in

Mendez’s embodiment does not bind her to the poetics of the contemporary aesthetic but

frees her into spirals seen in My Name is not, to a place which she calls home. Caribcentricity

in Mendez’s performance is seen in her reconfiguring the contemporary aesthetic she is using

through the embodiment of the Africanist notion of the ‘heartbeat’ where she can ‘do

anything’ and reach full expression of herself (Mendez, 2018). Mendez’s approach to

movement here is inherently Caribcentric and is reminiscent of how enslaved Africans turned

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dances such as Quadrilles given to them by their oppressors into dances of liberation (chapter

three). Mendez re-appropriates the Western aesthetic in a way that resonates with her, which

in the programme of extracts that she performed is seen through the subversive spirit of

Calypso.

Using the example of the dance practices of the enslaved Africans to illuminate the

Caribcentricity at work within Mendez’s performance, I want to highlight how Mendez’s

creolisation looks different from Buck’s Nation Language. When thinking about the enslaved

African’s adoption of European court dances, whilst many of the forms looked different to

the original dances coming over from Europe, they were still distinguishably deriving from

court dances, even if they had evolved into something new. Buck’s Nation Language goes

beyond a re-appropriation and what Thomas identifies as the tropes of the diaspora pulling

from the past to make something new (Thomas, 2004, p.231). Buck processes his experiences

and movement training through a synthesised and embodied creolisation. As explored in

detail in chapter eight, Buck’s Nation Language is drawn from Western, Caribbean, Eastern,

and African movement vocabularies to create a seamlessly amalgamated movement

language. Buck’s syncretic use of this movement is in its nature Caribcentric.

When considering the Caribcentric through movement, it is possible to read the references in

Johnson-Small’s movement to undulation, disruption of flow, flow, and hip rotations as

indicative of Johnson-Small refocusing her movement through a Caribcentric lens. These

movements are, however, abstracted and not prominent or frequent enough to be able to

objectively identify them as inciting a Caribcentric approach within Johnson-Small’s

movement vocabulary. It is not what we see within i ride that suggests a Caribcentric

approach but in Johnson-Small’s use of sound. The stage during i ride as described in chapter

seven, has towering speakers upstage left with base speakers littered across the back of the

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stage. Invoking images of sound system culture which, as discussed in chapter two, finds its

origins in the Caribbean. The effect that these speakers have is the sonic dominance that

Henriques identifies as occurring when sound ‘displaces the normal dominance of the visual

medium’ (Henriques, 2003, p.452). We experience this in i ride, which begins and ends with

the stage in darkness with only the soundscape playing into the auditorium. Throughout the

piece, there are points (detailed in chapter seven) where Johnson-Small’s physical and digital

presence disappears, and the audience is left only with the soundscape and the aural presence

of Johnson-Small’s voice. When considering Henriques conceptualisation of sonic

dominance and sonic bodies, we can see similarities between what Henriques identifies as

happening in Dancehall/Reggae contexts within Johnson-Small’s creation on stage. Johnson-

Small’s intricate soundscape with its heavy drum and bass, jungle, and dub influences forces

the audience to shift their perspectives and what they know through immersing them in sound

played loudly, allowing the vibrations of the bass to be felt in our feet. There is an immersion

that the soundscape and speakers provide, that brings not only Johnson-Small but the

audience to themselves and into their bodies (Henriques, 2003, p.452). It is from this place

within our bodies that Johnson-Small brings us to that we relate to Johnson-Small and block

out all other distractions, surrendering to the centring of Johnson-Small and her experiences.

It is in this way that we see the Caribcentric work within i ride.

Sonic dominance is also present within Windows of Displacement. We particularly see this

during the final section of movement danced by Buck, as described in chapter eight. This

movement is indicative of Buck’s Nation Language movement aesthetic as a practice of

rooting. Buck uses the song Jordan River which is filled with lyrics of a resistant spirituality

and a promised homeland. The song has a distinct Reggae riddim and is underpinned by a

slow continuous Nyabinghi drumbeat. Although there is not a sound system present on stage,

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in a similar way to Johnson-Small, there is an experience conjured as the audience is

saturated by the Reggae riddims. In Windows of Displacement, however, both the visual and

aural elements work together to submerge the audience into a new space that the audience has

not experienced previously in the piece. The Roots Reggae song resounding in the theatre

works together with Buck’s embodied Nation Language to create a moment of connection

through sound, body, and our visual comprehension. These connections that Buck makes are

the very premise of sonic dominance, which acts as a ‘life force’ (Henriques, 2003, p.453)

founded on combination and synthesis as opposed to separation (Henriques, 2003, p.453)

enabling Buck to dance his Nation Language and centre his own movement knowledge.

The opening of Mendez’s programme of extracts is also exemplary of sonic dominance. The

dominance of sound in Mendez’s performance leads to an experience of pleasure and joy

being felt both by the audience and Mendez. This is identified by Henriques as what is

irresistible about sound system sessions (Henriques, 2003, p.453). As narrated in chapter six,

it did take a predominantly white audience a while to succumb to the invitation from Mendez

to dance, but once they did euphoria was released into the theatre. Through Mendez’s use of

sonic dominance, it is possible to comprehend Caribcentric approaches as an approach that

defies Western Contemporary Dance and theatrical conventions of spectatorship, producing

freedom for both performer and audience.

The theory of sonic dominance conceived by Henriques refers to the sound played through

the Reggae Sound System. Although neither Mendez nor Buck use sound systems, it is

possible to determine how the use of Reggae and Calypso music affected the choreography

and the audience through my own embodied experience. This is not the case, however, with

Patten’s Ina de Wildanis, which uses live drumming throughout. Whilst it cannot be

concluded that sonic dominance is not at work within this piece as a contributing factor of its

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Caribcentric approach, as I have not seen the piece live and do not have access to any

secondary resources suggesting otherwise, I have not considered sonic dominance in relation

to the sound within the piece.

Throughout the work of these case study artists, we see sonic dominance working through

different aspects of each piece of choreography. Despite these different utilisations, we can

see that the presence of Caribcentric sonic dominance within the case study artists’ practices

of rooting produces a dynamic shift within the space of the choreography, the dance, and the

audience. Sonic dominance here not only allows for a centring of self but a connection that

brings both audience and performer back to the body and to the self (Henriques, 2003, p.453).

The final way in which Caribcentricity is present within the practices of rooting of the case

study artists’ choreographic work is in spiritual and ancestral connections. Chapter five

details how Patten embodies both spiritual and cultural connections through his choices of

movement and choreography. We see it in the songs he sings and the costumes he wears,

many of which find their origins within social and spiritual contexts offstage. Patten’s

opening call and performance of the Likishi dance is exemplary of this. The Likishi from

Zambia is an initiation dance which calls the ancestral spirits to open and bless the

performance. Likewise, the opening of Mendez’s programme of extracts invokes the spirit of

Calypso and its historical subversive use. Both Mendez and Patten demonstrate an explicit

connection within their practices of rooting to ancestral data, cultural memory, and Africanist

and Caribbean spiritualities. The presence of spiritualities within the practices of rooting in H

Patten and Mendez’s choreographic work points to a framework of knowledge and

understanding that is outside of Eurocentric reasoning.

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Within the practices of rooting of Johnson-Small and Buck, it is also possible to identify

ancestral and spiritual connections. These connections, however, are not as apparent as they

are within the choreography of H Patten and Mendez. It was through conversation and time

spent in the studio with these artists that the presences of ancestral and spiritual connections

within their own movement practices became visible to me. It is, therefore, possible to re-

read the practices of rooting within their choreographic work through the lens of my

experiences with them. When Buck described to me how his identity had shifted once he had

arrived in the UK during our conversations, he emphasised that his spirituality was also

central to his identity (Buck 2017). This became even more apparent to me during our

embodied exchange. It was during this exchange that Buck relayed to me various spiritual

experiences that he has had and the ways that these experiences feed into his movement

practice. After one of our conversations, Buck emailed me, expressing a desire to create a

ritual that would dispel embodied ancestral trauma. As we moved in the studio, I resonated

with Buck’s need to resolve problems through the body first. Re-reading the Nation

Language that Buck creates onstage through this lens, it is possible to decipher a spiritual

connection as he (re)creates his identity through his practice of rooting. The Rastaman Chant

that opens the show becomes an incantation, the presence of the Nyabinghi, Capoeira, Dinki

Mini, and Kumina steps become guided embodied practices through which he re-aligns his

identity as he connects to ancestral data (Stines 2005).

Likewise, my interactions with Johnson-Small around her movement practice revealed

sacredness in her approach. It was during a class led by Johnson-Small that I participated in

that this became more apparent. After warming up, Johnson-Small asked the participants to

engage in what she calls exorcism practice. Johnson-Small invited a participant of the class to

disclose something that they wanted to be exorcised. The rest of the class members then

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danced around that individual to exorcise (through their movement) whatever it was that was

disclosed. This practice that Johnson-Small shared with us has a connection to Caribcentric

approaches to the function of movement, which in Africanist societies holds spiritual and

cultural significances (chapter three). When I saw i ride in Belgium, Johnson-Small

confessed to the audience that the piece was partly a dance of grief for her father who had

passed five years earlier. Through this confession, we can also consider Johnson-Small’s

practice of rooting within choreography of i ride as an embodied function that through its

engagement opens a channel for processing and healing.

When considering Caribcentricity within the practices of rooting of the case study artists’

choreographic work the differences are subtle. In my reading of their choreography, both

Mendez and Patten present a statement of identity through their use of Caribcentricity. In this

way, the Caribcentric functions within their practices of rooting as an identifiable rhizomatic

stem that traces the Caribbean on the embodied map of their becoming. For these artists,

therefore, Caribcentricity signifies an empowered identity that is made visible (in spaces

where they may be invisible) through the performance of their practices of rooting. This is

seen, for example, in Mendez’s declaration that she is a child of Calypso and mangoes at the

end of My Name is Not.

Buck takes a similar approach to Caribcentricity as Mendez and Patten, in that he utilises

signifying Caribbean cultural practices such as his movement aesthetic (Dinki Mini,

Kumina), language choice (Patois), and connection to spirituality (Nayabingi and

Rastafarianism). However, the way in which Buck utilises these practices aligns more closely

with how Johnson-Small’s practice of rooting is Caribcentric. Both Buck and Johnson-Small

relate to specific aspects and philosophies from the Caribbean as part of a movement practice

that they engage with both on and off stage. Through this, it is possible to see Caribcentricity

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manifesting within their practices of rooting as part of a continuing movement practice in

which they position their identities.

9.1.3 Resistance

Chapter two identifies that through everyday rituals and the engagement with cultural

aesthetics, those with British Caribbean Diasporic identities create counter sites of resistance

through which they subvert power relations. This resistance is multifaceted, occurring

through activism, cultural counter sites and through simply existing outside the hegemony.

Considering the nuanced relationship that those with British Caribbean Diasporic identities

have with resistance, the discussion of practices of rooting must be careful to reflect this.

Within Ina de Wildanis, we see resistance against the dominant culture through Patten’s

choice of language. The audience’s first encounter with Patten’s piece is with the patois title:

Ina de Wildanis. Here the title of the piece acts as a frontier which marks the space of the

theatre. The name of the piece becomes a signpost that designates colonial languages

unwelcome and creolised Nation Language as the norm. Throughout the piece, Patten

changes between Jamaican Patois and other African languages, only using the English

language to convey oppressive and racist speech. Patten, whose speaks with a Jamaican

accent - despite being born and brought up in the West Midlands- not only demonstrates

continuities between presence Africaine, Européenne, and Américaine (Hall, 2015) through

his language choice but creates a safe space for the type of healing and recovery that Nhaht

(2001) speaks of (chapter two). The use of language is an indication of whom Patten is

addressing and who his work is for; only those with access to these languages and the

cultures Patten engages with can have full access to the piece.

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We also see Buck using theatrical tools to resist the dominant culture within Windows of

Displacement. This is seen explicitly through his interactions with the audience. The opening

statement sung by Buck, ‘hear the words of the Rastaman say, Babylon your throne, gone

down, gone down, Babylon, your throne gone down’ is a confrontational statement. Babylon

in this context finds its meaning in the Rastafarian religion but is also generally applied to

those systems and institutions that inflict regimes of oppression on those it rules over (Estate,

1994, p.208). This incantation invokes a spirit of resistance, it clears the stage and makes the

distinct intention of Buck, which is to address these systems and in his own way resist and

pull them down. This resistance and political consciousness continues throughout the piece as

Buck questions and provokes where the West gets resources to make smartphones, how we

treat humans whom we deem as outsiders, the political systems in the Caribbean and the UK

which oppress the needy, and the colonial legacies that still exist and are experienced every

day. Buck’s questioning of these things is a public interrogation of the power structures to

which we all adhere. It is this questioning and explanation of situations across the globe that

give the piece its didactic nature. Buck positions himself as a critic of these systems and as

one of the people. It is through this public questioning, and the audience interaction, that

Buck implicates the audience throughout the piece, putting them in a position to bear the

responsibility for the endurance of these systems. Buck charges the audience to live above

these systems, to educate themselves, to help one another, and to stand up for those in need

whether at a political level or within our everyday interactions. The final words of the piece

that Buck gives to the audience are, “We the ninety-nine per cent against the one per cent, we

the ninety-nine per cent are a Jordan River, We the ninety-nine per cent will not stop rolling,

we the ninety-nine per cent are key”. Journeying through this piece as an audience member,

we experience a clear call to activism by Buck through small and large acts of resistance. In

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this, Windows of Displacement is a space of counter-cultural subversion that calls on the

community to resist political power structures through movement, vulnerability, audience

participation, and songs. This is reflective of the nature of resistance historically within

Caribbean and African cultures.

As detailed in chapter six, the use of spirals, Calypso, and Soca within Mendez programme of

extracts is where we can identify resistance. The resistive and rebellious spirit of Calypso that

Mendez embodies to open and close the performance induces cultural memory and creates a

counter site of resistance through which Mendez elevates her voice and affirms her identity

on her terms. There is also subtle activism within Mendez’s resistance onstage. Through her

movement and speech, there is a provocation to the audience to question the subjectivities

they hold. As referred to in chapter six, the space that Mendez creates becomes one through

which she returns to herself and goes ‘home’ (Mendez, 2018) and therefore becomes a place

of healing and respite for Mendez.

When considering the space that Johnson-Small creates, it is possible to read the creation of a

futuristic realm as a space of respite from the erasure that she experiences in society. As

Johnson-Small centres her own narrative, she is heard and seen in ways that are not

necessarily afforded to her ordinarily. As she performs Johnson-Small subverts oppressive

systems and environments where she is constantly managing her body and voice (as

discussed in chapter seven). Within this realm Johnson-Small resists our expectations as

audience members, refuting the anticipation of dancing to entertain and instead avoids

capture. Johnson-Small’s dancing here can be read as an assigned resistance as she dances in

a space of her own making, prioritising density over going anywhere (Johnson-Small, 2017).

Through movement phrases, Johnson-Small implores the audience to engage on her own

terms. We see Johnson-Small lost in the movement both in pleasure and frustration, only

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acknowledging the audience when inviting them on stage, or making direct connections

through touch or eye contact. Johnson-Small’s dance becomes a private dance of self, a

rooting dance to which the audience is invited.

Across the artists, we see that resistance manifests primarily to create spaces through which

the experiences, narratives and voices of the case study artists are prioritised. We see

resistance manifesting in ways that are reflective of the artists’ personal concerns. It is also

clear that resistance functions beyond the critique and subversion of power dynamics within

society, to form spaces of healing and recovery which can only occur when one experiences

themselves holistically. Within the work of Buck and Johnson-Small, this activism is

directed to the audience. This is evident in statements such as “white people do something” in

i ride or in Buck’s charge to the audience to resist capitalist systems. There is also activism

within the work of Mendez and Patten, although their resistance is not as direct as we see

from Johnson-Small and Buck. In the centring of their heritages and personal narratives,

Mendez and Patten cause the audience to experience them transnationally and in their

multiplicity. Their resistance, therefore, is a demonstration against monolithic thought about

British Caribbean Diasporic people.

The theoretical characteristics of British Caribbean Diasporic identities that this research

identifies are evidently present within the choreographic work of the case study artists.

Through this wider reading, we see that through practices of rooting the artists are engaging

with ideas and aspects of double consciousness, the Caribcentric, and resistance to

renegotiate their identity and experiences, repositioning and (re)creating themselves within

societal systems of power.

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9.2 Spaces of Performative Becoming

Chapter four conceptualises spaces of performative becoming as the spaces that are produced

out of practices of rooting that are choreographic. These are spaces that are formed within the

process of performance; they are intervening spaces that allow those engaging with them to

reposition their identity through rooting. Within these spaces of performative becoming

reimagining of the body (Francis, 2015) and identity occur as embodied knowledge (Sklar,

1994) and the corporeal dancing body (Patten, 2018) draw on knowledge from past, present

and future. These are spaces of visibility, where British Caribbean Diasporic artists can be

seen holistically and with nuance. This section of the chapter will outline the spaces of

performative becoming that each case study artist’s practice of rooting creates. In doing this,

the chapter uses the previous readings and discussion of the case study artists’ choreography

to characterise the spaces of becoming these artists are creating. Through the characterisation

of these spaces of performative becoming, it is possible to gain an overall comprehension of

how these artists create, affirm, and establish their identity through choreography.

Within i ride, we see that Johnson-Small has created a space of performative becoming that is

disruptive. This disruption is the type of disturbance that Puwar identifies as occurring when

bodies that are othered possess spaces from which they usually are excluded, or there is not a

precedent for them existing in such spaces (Puwar, 2004, p.32). The disruption that arises

within Johnson-Small’s space of performative becoming is an assigned resistance that occurs

as a result of her existence within the space of the theatre that is not formulated to receive

brown bodies (Puwar, 2004, p.32). Through her practice of rooting, Johnson-Small

decolonises these notions, formulating her own futuristic realm. Here Johnson-Small’s

consciousness of doubleness sees her position herself outside of the subjectivities the

audience may bring. Centring herself and her own experiences, Johnson-Small displaces

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whiteness and controls the gaze of the audience. In this way, Johnson-Small’s performance of

rooting creates a safe space through which she can exist in the multiplicity of her identity.

Johnson-Small’s space of performative becoming is not self-indulgent, as the presence of

sonic dominance and audience participation allows those watching to connect with Johnson-

Small through the body. In this way, Johnson-Small’s becoming is extended through the

other. As both Hall and Glissant identify, without the other there is no self-recognition (Hall,

1995, p.8; Glissant, 1997). As Johnson-Small creates a space free of navigating whiteness,

she shifts power dynamics through invitations to the audience to dance with her in a

decolonised space. The disruption that Johnson-Small’s space of performative becoming

forms, allows Johnson-Small to reclaim her identity and experiences and make them visible.

This space operates on various levels, drawing on the Caribcentric ancestral functions of

movement to process, heal, reclaim, centre herself and connect with the audience. It is a

space that you must be and will be invited to experience, but one that you cannot dominate, a

space of Johnson-Small’s becoming.

Buck’s space of performative becoming within Windows of Displacement is an embodied

negotiation of his multifaceted identity. This is reflected in his Nation Language, which

draws from movement aesthetics from around the world which he negotiates through his

body using a Caribcentric approach. As Buck dances, he simultaneously expresses liberation,

protest, subversion, and celebration of his cultural heritage as he moves through a movement

language that flows out of his identity. Through Buck’s embodied negotiation of identity- in a

similar way to Johnson-Small- Buck goes beyond his own identity and positions himself

within the contexts of world systems. His space of performative becoming is an intervening

space which sees the double consciousness of his identity lead to political awareness.

Through movement, storytelling, and audience participation Buck communicates this to his

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audience. In this way, Buck’s practice of rooting and space of performative becoming also

forms a space of activism against oppressive systems. Buck invites the audience to engage

with this activism in the theatre, their everyday life, and to experience their own becoming

using sonic dominance, audience participation, and direct address. In this, Buck’s becoming

through the performance of Windows of Displacement is not solely his own but also for the

audience.

The space of performative becoming that Patten forms in Ina de Wildanis is one of embodied

reconciliation. As Patten moves in his corporeal dancing body, he embodies cultural

knowledge, cultural memories and ancestral data that manifest through his Africanist

movement vocabulary. His Caribcentric approach sees Patten utilise movement aesthetics,

language, and cultural tools to constitute a space of his performative becoming which he

designates as the Wildanis. The Wildanis exists amongst the many cultures, heritages, and

lineages that form Patten’s identity. It is outside the borders of nation and culture, functioning

in a liminal space of the beyond (Bhabha, 1994, p.36). As Patten moves through the

Wildanis, he produces continuity amongst the different presences -Africaine Européenne-

(Hall, 2015) of his identity and in doing so, through the corporeal dancing body, moves

through past, present and future (Hall, 1990; Bhabha, 1994). The awareness of his doubleness

sees Patten engage in a practice of rooting which decentres the hegemonic culture as an act of

resistance. Through the performance of his becoming Patten traces his multiplicitous identity

onto an embodied map and in doing so reclaims a space for his identity. The Wildanis,

therefore, functions as a space of becoming in which there is the possibility to exist in

multiplicity, not as separate parts of different cultures, but as an embodied whole.

Mendez’s space of performative becoming is also one of reconciliation. It is the space of

‘momentary materialisation’ (Martin, 1998, p.109), where her double consciousness is

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reconciled to her true self (Du Bois, 1903 ) and is made visible through performance. Our

conversations and embodied exchange revealed how powerful and significant movement is in

allowing Mendez to be visible. Through Mendez’s practice of rooting, the presence of sonic

dominance, audience participation, and the collective experience of euphoria the audience

connects with Mendez in a personal way. The reconciliation of Mendez’s space of

performative becoming holds tension that sees both ‘joy and pain’ and the ‘sacred and the

profane’ (Mendez, 2018) performed as part of her identity that is also reflective of the

resistive spirit in Calypso. The practice of rooting that Mendez engages in truly presents an

embodied map of her personal history as she moves into her space of performative becoming.

Mendez uses the resistive spirit of Calypso, sonic dominance and the Caribcentric spiral

connection to the ‘heartbeat’ (Mendez, 2018) to move subversively through her choreography

(re)asserting herself through speech and dance. This is what Mendez calls ‘entering the

dance’ (Mendez, 2018), as she enters the dance into a space of her performative becoming,

Mendez exists beyond racial classification and othering, where she affirms herself as who she

knows herself to be.

The spaces of performative becoming that the case study artists create are reflective of the

practices of rooting from which they are formed. When considering these spaces, it is evident

that each space is particular to the identities, experiences, and concerns of each case study

artist. This is a pertinent reminder of the nuances of British Caribbean Diasporic identities,

which are multiplicitous and multidimensional48 as demonstrated throughout the thesis.

48 This fact is often denied to those of African and African Diasporic heritage living in the West who are often pulled together in social groupings such as BAME.

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Considering this, any discussion of these identities must be mindful not to make harmful

generalisations about these identities, the practices of rooting they engage with, or the spaces

of performative becoming they create.

When considering the case study artists of this research, it is, however, possible to identify

themes present within the work across the artists. Generally, we see that the case study

artists’ spaces of performative becoming function to provide a space of visibility in which

they can exist in the multiplicity of their identity. Although this is not the only function of the

artists' spaces of performative becoming (as demonstrated above), this commonality

evidences that the chosen British Caribbean Diasporic case study artists are using movement

as a tool through which their identities are realised. Despite this commonality, the spaces of

performative becoming throughout the case study artists choreography are varied spaces of

artistry. Through the consideration of rooting presented in chapters five to eight, this thesis

has demonstrated that through practices of rooting, spaces of performative becoming

(re)create and affirm case study artists’ identities.

Both Mendez and Patten have created spaces through which they reconcile their identities.

When considering the contexts of these artists these spaces reflect their histories and personal

narratives. Patten, for example, has expressed feeling a connection to presence Africaine

since his youth. He was also involved in movements of transnational black political

consciousness during the seventies and eighties, where African and African Diasporic

identities across the Black Atlantic were fighting for their validity, freedom, and rights. This

is also true of Mendez, who as a child of mixed heritage, had her identity reduced through

marginalisation and cruel labelling. She told me it was only through movement that she could

be safe and seen (Mendez, 2017a). As discussed in chapter two, the time that these artists

began to create and produce choreography was a time of negotiation for those with British

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Caribbean Diasporic identities which were newly forming within a hostile environment filled

with both institutional and societal racism. The spaces of performative becoming of these

artists reflect this history and the desire to assert/present a statement of identity.

Johnson-Small and Buck have more varied spaces of performative becoming. However, it is

possible to identify a commonality in their approach to political consciousness. Both artists

create spaces in which they challenge the audience with action. In i ride we hear voices

charging white people in the audience to “do something” and chants of “you better love us or

leave us alone”. Whilst in Windows of Displacement, Buck challenges the audience to join

him in his activism through everyday subversive acts (chapter eight).

This research has explored how identity formation is occurring within the work of British

Caribbean Diasporic artists. In doing this, the research has made contributions to

conceptually, methodologically, and empirically to critical Dance Studies, Caribbean Studies

and Cultural studies. To end this thesis, this chapter will now consider the contributions this

research has made and speculate on future areas of research.

Conceptually this thesis develops the notions of practices of rooting and spaces of

performative becoming. Built on the conceptual foundation of avoiding capture, practices of

rooting are cultural practices that occur when a community (or individual) engages with or

creates cultural aesthetics. This thesis presents the notion of rooting as contrary to established

concepts of roots. Using the work of Caribbean and cultural theorists, the thesis

conceptualises rooting as fluid and dynamic, submerging and resurfacing, volatile yet lyrical

through Brathwaite’s tidalectics. Rooting is rhizomatic, multiplicitous and adaptive with

multiple entrances and exits (Deleuze and Guattari, 1987). The routing that encompassed in

rooting leaves traces that can be mapped across continuums (Brathwaite and Mackey, 1999)

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of time and place. This thesis positions the body as the submerged realm where rooting,

mapping, and tracing takes place. In this, the research aligns with dance scholars who

consider the body as a site of ‘meaning making’ which can be read (e.g Foster, 1986; Daly,

1987; Manning, 1993; Gottschild, 1996; Blanco Borelli, 2016; Croft, 2017). When

considering practices of rooting that are choreographic, this thesis conceptualises spaces of

performative becoming as liminal spaces through which British Caribbean Diasporic artists

engage and access cultural knowledge and embodied memory through discursive

performativity. Through applying the notions of rooting and spaces of performative becoming

to the case study artists, the thesis has demonstrated how identity formation and negotiation

can be read through the choreographic work of British Caribbean Diasporic artists. To

contextualise the key concepts of this thesis and the reading of the case study artists’ rooting,

the research located British Caribbean Diasporic identities. Through an open-ended

definition, the research characterised these identities as multiplicitous identities that are

transnational and existing on an unceasing continuum of creolisation as they engage with

presence Africaine, Européenne, Américaine, the wider Black Atlantic, and beyond. In

addition to this, the thesis demonstrated the significance of dance within the formation of

these identities through a historical overview of dance in Caribbean Contact zones and the

Black Dance sector in Britain. Practices of rooting and spaces of performative becoming

expand how we can consider British Caribbean Diasporic identities through movement; in

this way, the thesis contributes to discourses around this identity in cultural studies and

Caribbean studies. In addition, these notions expand current discourses within dance studies

around British Caribbean Diasporic artists and their choreography.

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The methods that this thesis developed and utilised offer an expansion in the way that

cultural, dance and Caribbean scholars can contemplate and explore British Caribbean

Diasporic identities. The use of embodied exchange sessions as a method for collecting data

prioritised embodied knowledge of both artist and researcher. Within an interdisciplinary

framework of analysis that had a Caribcentric and Postcolonial approach, this embodied

knowledge has provided insight that could not be reached from conventional interviews (e.g.

Mendez sharing the heartbeat tremor). This approach expands on and goes further than the

work of Barnes (2018), by focussing on independent dance artists and considering their

movement more comprehensively.

Finally, this research makes an empirical contribution to critical dance studies through its

offering of analysis and observations of British Caribbean Diasporic artists’ work that, to

date, has not been considered.

Future research that expands and builds on the work within this thesis could explore how

other British Caribbean Diasporic artists engage with practices of rooting that are

choreographic further. That kind of project could consider rooting across generations of

artists and locations within the United Kingdom. Alternatively, future research could focus on

the practices of rooting present within social dance forms within the British Caribbean

Diasporic community, focussing on, for example, movement from Lovers Rock and digital

dance fads from the past ten years. Another project might compare how rooting occurs across

the Atlantic from the Caribbean to Britain.

This research is significant as it demonstrates that beyond performance and the aesthetics of

the case study artists’ choreographic work, there is a cultural system (practices of rooting)

that is functioning to affirm and establish their British Caribbean Diasporic identities. Despite

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the instability that these identities face within the British environment, through creative

expression, the case study artists of this research become visible and exist within the

multiplicity of their identities through their choreography. This research establishes that there

is value in analysing the choreographic work of British Caribbean Diasporic artists, and

therefore, it will help British Caribbean Diasporic artists understand the hidden value of their

work and the transformative potential that it holds as they and others engage in their spaces of

performative becoming. This work does not only serve as artistic expression but as a channel

through which we can understand ourselves as diasporic people. The value of this to the

British Caribbean Diasporic community and society should not be ignored. This thesis

reflects the wealth of knowledge to be explored in this area.

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Appendix A: Introduction to the Case Study Artists

This appendix collates the introductory paragraphs of each case study artist from chapter

three.

H Patten

H Patten is a case study artist within this research. Amongst many things, Patten is a fine

artist, dancer, and musician (specifically a drummer). Patten grew up in Birmingham with his

parents and siblings during the sixties. He would become a cultural activist from a young age,

engaging in grassroots movements that promoted Africa and African liberation. Patten

became a founding member of Danse De L’Afrique in 1980 after meeting Bob Ramdhanie. It

is with Danse De L’Afrique that Patten would journey to Ghana on the first of many trips to

the continent. Initially journeying to Africa to train in traditional dance forms, Patten’s talent

would take him back time and time again, as student, teacher, choreographer, and artistic

director. Patten would go on to establish his own company in the UK and continue to make

significant contributions to the field of African and African Diasporic dance through practice

and scholarship. A more detailed exploration of his biography will be explored in chapter

five.

Greta Mendez

Greta Mendez, the second case study of this research, arrived in London from Trinidad in

1971 to train at the London Contemporary Dance School located at the Place. Mendez would

find herself as a central figure within the development of the first Black British led

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contemporary dance company, MAAS Movers. Of Canadian and Trinidadian heritage,

Mendez grew up dancing, learning classical Western forms and other traditional forms of

dance from Scotland, Ireland, Africa, and India. Her eclectic range of dance training is one

that is exemplary of presence Américaine, Africaine, and Européenne that is present on the

Caribbean islands. Throughout her career, Mendez has been a vocal activist for both

independent and what is known in the sector as ‘Black Dance’. Believing in the ideology of

MAAS Movers, Mendez would pick up the pieces of the company when it was on the verge

of collapse, acting as both the artistic director and rehearsal director. After the company

folded, Mendez would travel the world sharing her philosophies around dance, making work

that is predominately concerned with social issues and using a movement vocabulary that

brings together all her dance training. After a period of sickness Mendez became a movement

director, her work focussed in theatre. Mendez continues to make work and perform out of

her experiences.

Jamila Johnson-Small

Growing up in North London, Jamila Johnson-Small (the third case study of this research)

graduated from the London Contemporary Dance School in 2009. Johnson-Small would

initiate and be involved in a number of long-term collaborations as well as making solo

performances under the name Last Yearz Interesting Negro. The work Johnson-Small creates

exists on the spectrum between Contemporary Dance and Live Art. As a consequence of this

Johnson-Small’s work reaches diverse audiences and is performed in a multitude of spaces,

including, art galleries, museums and traditional theatre spaces. In 2017, Johnson-Small was

commissioned to create her first full-length solo i ride in soft colour and focus/ no longer

anywhere, which has experienced great success, touring the United Kingdom and Europe. In

2019 Johnson-Small received the Arts Foundation Futures Award 2019 for Visual Art, for the

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innovative visuals used in i ride in soft colour and focus/ no longer anywhere. Johnson-Small

continues to collaborate with a plethora of artists such as Phoebe Collings-James and Rowdy-

SS, creating solos, duets, and ensemble pieces for all dancing bodies.

Akeim Toussaint Buck

The final case study of this research is Akeim Toussaint Buck. Born in Jamaica, Buck came

to the UK as a young boy. Leeds would be his home and where he would eventually train to

be a professional dancer. Buck has a background in Hip-Hop styles of dance and was known

as a freestyler. Through college, Buck became interested in dance and trained in Ballet,

Contemporary, Jazz and elements of Physical Theatre. He would eventually be accepted to

the Northern School of Contemporary Dance and complete their undergraduate programme in

dance in 2014. Since graduating Buck has performed with several dance companies. As a

young independent artist Buck has experienced success, in 2016, his first full-length solo

piece Windows of Displacement was commissioned by Yorkshire Dance. Buck has an

eclectic movement vocabulary which combines his many talents including poetry, Capoeira,

beatboxing and singing. He is particularly interested in the healing aspects that dance has and

its ability to connect people.

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Appendix B: Glossary of Africanist Movement Aesthetics

This appendix provides a glossary of Africanist movement aesthetic terms used throughout

the analysis of the case study artists

Curvilinear

The notion of Curvilinear is the use of both circular and linear formations within dance forms

(Glass, 2007, p.18). Marshall and Jean Stearns (1979) in their outline of the six characteristics

of African dances describe African dances as ‘centrifugal’, they explode ‘outward from the

hip’ as the origin point rather than the knee, being executed to a ‘propulsive rhythm giving it

a swinging quality’ (Stearns and Stearns, 1979, p.15). We see the use of Curvilinear, in the

Quadrilles, Contredanse and Belle/ Belair dance forms across the Caribbean, as well as

within African dances such as Senegalese Sabar, where complex combinations of high kicks

and circular rotations of the hips are accompanied by arms that swing around the torso in both

curved and linear forms.

Cultural Fusions/Inclusions

Cultural fusions/Inclusions can be found throughout Africanist forms. Brenda Dixon

Gottschild’s discussion of this principle describes that ‘without losing its root integrity in and

adherence to an Africanist perspective, African based cultures in the Motherland and the

African Diaspora have embraced the conflict of opposites that they have encountered in

hostile, oppressive environments’ (Gottschild, 2002, p.10). This can be seen in the way that

the enslaved Africans embraced Quadrille and Contredanse forms and made them their own

(as discussed in chapter three). In more recent dance history, we see this in the way that the

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Ballet aesthetic has integrated within the African diaspora dance forms, embracing the

conflict (See Gottschild, 2002, p.5) between Africanist and Western dance forms. In 2019, we

see this embrace of conflict in dance forms such as Ballet Acogny, where tendus, undulating

spines and waving arms come together as the dancer moves through first, second, and third

positions. This is also evident through the form Hiplet, a form founded in Chicago by Homer

Hans Bryant, which sees dancers on pointe kick ball changing across the stage whilst they

snake their hips to the ground with their arms above their head. The infusion and inclusion of

different cultural elements is a prominent aesthetic throughout Africanist movement and

ensures the continual renewing and creation of new forms of dance and artistic expressions

across Africa and its diaspora.

Dimensionality

Dimensionality is an intangible sense that occurs when one is dancing or participating in

African and African Diasporic dance forms through community. These continuities and

dimensions are what Kariamu Welsh Asante recognises as the non-documentable essence that

presences itself through the dancers and the music. When performed on stage, Dimensionality

does not always occur especially if tricks and entertainment are the priority. Welsh Asante

says this of Dimensionality,

It speaks in a physical three-dimensional sense in Western terminology,

but it is not measured in dimension, but rather a perceived dimension.

These extra senses, in addition to the universal aesthetics of all cultures,

provide the African [and African diasporic] aesthetic with its complexity

[…] there is a great difficulty in documenting the extrasensory dimensions

of an art form which is creative by definition, consequently a changing art

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form. The nonmeasured, but ultra-perceivable senses are difficult to define

by virtue of their frequency, complexity, and place in society

(Welsh Asante, 1998, p.148)

Dimensionality engages the aural, visual, and spiritual sense of a human being to create a

sensory experience that cannot only be captured through embodiment.

Epic Memory

Epic memory is also a sense that cannot easily be captured with words on a paper.

Experienced as embodied ancestral knowledge by those who are dancing, the African and

African Diasporic dancer recalls all who have gone before them, all who have danced that

dance before, and why they dance as they move. Epic Memory simultaneously conjures up

ancestral memory whilst creating ancestral connections (Welsh Asante, 1998, p.213), Welsh

Asante attributes its importance to its ‘relatedness to spirituality ethos and empathy’ (Welsh

Asante, 1998, p.213). The embodied experience of Epic memory can be seen within Patten’s

conceptualisation of the corporeal dancing body (2018) which invokes ancestral data (Stines,

2005), and cultural memory (Buckland, 2001) as it moves.

Polycentric

Working in direct correlation with Polyrhythm, Polycentrism is the Africanist philosophical

regard of the body as consisting of separate autonomous units that can move independently of

each other. This allows a juxtaposing dynamic to occur within a single body, maybe the feet

are moving fast whilst the upper torso and arms are positioned and do not move like the

Gbegbe dance of the Ivory Coast. In addition to this, these movements can also originate

from different focal points simultaneously (Gottschild, 1996, p.8). Far from being a natural

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occurrence, the use of a multi-centred, multi-rhythmic movement creates a depth of

complexity that is specific to Africanist movement.

Polyrhythm

The most widely known of the aesthetics in association with African dance is the sense of

motion that is present within the body and how it responds to rhythm. Welsh Asante

describes Polyrhythm as being a ‘world within another world, the deeper you travel, the more

you feel, hear; it is multi-dimensional’ (Welsh Asante, 2001, p.146). It is the layers of

rhythms on top of rhythms that exist both separately and in relation to each other that gives

this aesthetic its distinctive nature. However, as scholar Francesca Castaldi identifies,

Polyrhythms are more than a ‘musical and chorographical strategy’ (Castaldi, 2006, p.8).

These rhythms represent a type of,

[…] theoretical model that articulates relationships of parts to a whole

within a hierarchal structure… a polyrhythmic structure presents us with

differentiated layers (nonhomologous relationships) within which different

roles of improvisation apply (degrees of freedom) as well as circular (non-

linear) modes of connection that refer to each other without claiming an

absolute point of origin

(Castaldi, 2006, p.8)

Polyrhythms, in this sense, do more than immerse your sense with a multi-rhythmic

movement and sound; they point to a connected relationship between those movements and

sounds between the dancer and the drummer. Polyrhythms are present rhythmically in

musical accompaniment and through movement aesthetics in the body.

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The Aesthetic of the Cool

First articulated by Robert Farris Thompson in Flash of the Spirit: African and Afro-

American Art and Philosophy (1984), the Aesthetic of The Cool, is, as Gottschild recognises

it, the aesthetic which ‘holds all others in its thrall. It lives in the other premises, and they

reside in it’ (Gottschild, 2002, p.7). According to Thompson, there are five elements of The

Cool these are: Visibility, Luminosity, Rebirth, Reincarnation, and Composure of Face.

Visibility is about being seen, Thompson says a cool person does not hide (Thompson, 1984,

p.44) quoting the Yoruba proverb ‘if the secret is beat upon the drum, that secret will be

revealed in the dance’ (Thompson, 1984, p.44). However, this element of coolness is not just

about being visible in performance, but also being open, transparent, and acting with integrity

in your actions when you are dancing and when you are not. Luminosity refers to movement

that is not only visible but, clear and ‘shining bright’ (Thompson, 1984, p.44). In this sense,

those who dance with the Aesthetic of the Cool are able to reduce the ‘powers of darkness

and social heat by means of shining his athletic grace’ (Thompson, 1984, p.44). Smoothness

is also about the presentation of the dance; it is refined, perfected and performed with ease,

executing the dance with smoothness allows the dancer to shine and be visible (Thompson,

1984, p.44). Rebirth and Reincarnation is the pleasure taken by those who embody and those

who observe a dancer, channelling their ancestors through dance, or using dance as a tool to

be reborn. Thompson explains this aspect of The Cool by describing what is occurring during

this element, ‘African dance and art […] are vitalised by the embodiment of superior mind

from the past; conversely, the ancient elders are united again with strong means of realisation

of their principles, in the bodies of the dancers of sculpted image’ (Thompson, 1984, p.45).

Composure of the Face: Mask of the Cool is the fifth and final element of The Cool that

Thompson identifies. This element can be seen in a ‘hot’ body dancing with a ‘cool’

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unsmiling face that keeps its composure. Even when a dancer performs the most complex of

tricks, or demonstrates excellent athleticism, the mask of the cool exudes ease, calm, and

confidence (Thompson, 1984, p.45).

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