Tag Archives: Colonialism

La Argentina in the Philippines

In February 1929, the Spanish dancer Antonia Mercé Luque, better known as La Argentina, arrived in the Philippines during her groundbreaking international tour. This pioneering journey marked a significant expansion of Spanish dance, introducing it to traditional stage circuits across the Americas as well as cities in Asia and Oceania. The Philippines, a former Spanish colony, represents a particularly intriguing case for analyzing the impact of her work. During her visit, La Argentina honored Philippine culture by creating a piece inspired by the cariñosa–a traditional Spanish colonial dance–which she subsequently integrated into her international repertoire.

La Argentina’s brief visit to Manila and the creation of her solo piece, La cariñosa, highlight how early 20th-century Spanish dance served as a colonial gesture, presenting Spanish dance as both a colonizing force and one that was itself influenced by colonial contexts. This solo stylized the Filipino national dance for Western audiences, ostensibly paying tribute to the Filipino people. However, it also obscured a deeper colonial power dynamic, framing the performance in the context of a shared Hispanidad—a constructed cultural policy that promoted a fictive unity in the postcolonial Philippines.

Stills from footage of a 1929 performance of the Philippine cariñosa by La Argentina in Manila.

Like her earlier Latin American tour, La Argentina’s Asian tour should be viewed in the context of other contemporary Western dancers who were effectively conducting a type of fieldwork. Many of these dancers sought artistic and documentary inspiration from cultures considered exotic to Western audiences, primarily drawing from influences in India and Southeast Asia, as well as Indigenous American traditions. By the time La Argentina arrived in the Philippines, her artistic vision had already gained legitimacy within the dominant circles of Western culture. Her critical and public success, especially after founding her company, Les Ballets Espagnols–a name that mirrored Diaghilev’s Ballets Russes–in the autumn of 1927, further elevated her status. The acclaim she received from her peers further solidified her position as the foremost international exponent of Spanish dance.

This according to “Antonia Mercé ‘La Argentina’ in the Philippines: Spanish dance and colonial gesture” by Idoia Murga Castro (Dance research journal 54/3 [2022] 45–67; RILM Abstracts of Music Literature, 2022-16064).

Below is a performance of the cariñosa folk dance of the Philippines.

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Filed under Asia, Dance, Europe, Performers, Politics

Hip hop at 50: Part II–Indigenous hip hop as decolonial art

Indigenous hip hop in recent years has created a space for unpacking ideas of authenticity, contemporary Indigenous identity, links between indigeneity and U.S. Blackness, and urban Indigenous experiences. But what is Indigenous hip hop and what does it represent? Indigenous Hip Hop is a culture first adopted and then produced by Native people to challenge settler colonialism, white supremacy, and heteropatriarchy, among other issues. One of the primary objectives of Indigenous hip hop has been to assert the sovereign rights of Indigenous people and to assert their humanity as modern subjects. Indigenous hip hop takes on many flavors throughout the Indigenous world. Some artists may sound like what listeners hear on commercial radio, while other may include elements of Native sounds including powwow music. Indigenous hip hop provides an anthem, a voice, a literary and decolonial movement—it is not merely Native people mimicking hip hop culture. For some Indigenous hip hop musicians in Detroit, Michigan, the connections between settler colonial logics in Detroit and Palestine allow for hip hop in these spaces to serve as a decolonial art form.

Contemporary Detroit, nicknamed the “Motor City”, has gone through many changes since the 20th century. In the 1950s, its streets were lined with vehicles produced by nearby Chrysler, Ford, and General Motors factories and driven by nearly 2 million people who called the city home. After the 1967 Detroit riots, parts of the city resembled ghost towns and the city’s population dwindled to around 670,000 as many residents fled to surrounding suburbs. Detroit has experienced a rebirth over the past two decades drawing local investment and new residents to the downtown area. What remains remarkably consistent, however, is the invisibility of the Motor City’s Indigenous population. Indigenous erasure, in this context, combined with rhetoric and policies that continue to marginalize African Americans in Detroit, create a place rooted in multiple colonialisms.

Detroit rapper Sacramento Knoxx

In 2014, an Anishinaabeg (Walpole Island) and Chicanx rapper from Detroit named Sacramento Knoxx collaborated with Palestinian rapper Sharif Zakot on a music video entitled From stolen land to stolen land. Sharif is a youth organizer and coordinator in the San Francisco Bay Area’s Arab Youth Organizing (AYO!) program. Similar to Indigenous youth, many Palestinian youth also have turned to hip hop culture to express their anguish and marginalization. The images in Sacramento Knoxx and Sharif’s video travel from New York City to Detroit to Palestine. Sharif scribbles “Free Palestine” with a black marker on a metal object while the video cuts to a scene of Knoxx standing on the Brooklyn Bridge and to the words “Free Rasmea Odeh”, a long-time Palestinian activist who was arrested and indicted on federal charges in October 2013. As the words appear on the screen, a blurred view of the Statue of Liberty appears in the background, a symbol of a loss of freedom for many of North America’s Indigenous people. The song’s lyrics connect white supremacy with the occupation and displacement of Indigenous land while the two rappers lyrically interweave the ongoing processes of settler colonialism in both settings. Although they acknowledge that the colonization of the Americas and Palestine happened at different times and in different contexts, the similarities of occupation join the two disparate lands.

Celebrate Indigenous Peoples’ Day by reading Kyle T. Mays’ article “Decolonial hip hop: Indigenous hip hop and the disruption of settler colonialism” in Cultural studies (33.3, 2019).

Below is the video for Sacramento Knoxx and Sharif Zakot’s From stolen land to stolen land. Check out more from Sacramento Knoxx at https://sknoxx.bandcamp.com/music

Related Bibliolore articles:

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Filed under Asia, North America, Politics, Popular music

Hula, colonialism, and countercolonialism

Hula performers began touring throughout the continental United States and Europe in the late 19th century. These hula circuits introduced hula and Hawaiians to U.S. audiences, establishing an imagined intimacy, a powerful fantasy that enabled Americans to possess their colony physically and symbolically.

At vaudeville theaters, international expositions, commercial nightclubs, and military bases, Hawaiian women acted as ambassadors of aloha, enabling Americans to imagine Hawai’i as feminine and benign, and the relation between colonizer and colonized as mutually desired. Meanwhile, in the early years of American imperialism in the Pacific, touring hula performers incorporated veiled critiques of U.S. expansionism into their productions.

By the 1930s Hawaiian culture, particularly its music and hula, had enormous promotional value. In the 1940s thousands of U.S. soldiers and military personnel in Hawai’i were entertained by hula performances, many of which were filmed by military photographers. Yet Hawaiians also used hula as a means of cultural survival and countercolonial political praxis.

This according to Aloha America: Hula circuits through the U.S. empire by Adria L. Imada (Durham: Duke University Press, 2012; RILM Abstracts of Music Literature 2012-30915).

Above, dancing the hula for servicemen, 1944; below, Hal Aloma with Lani McIntyre and his Aloha Islanders, 1949.

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Filed under Australia and Pacific islands, Curiosities, Dance