As Geordie asserts in his essay, “Dishonourable Society of Black Masons,”: Learning Something from Everyday Slave Resistance in Colonial New York, “the ascendancy of the Trump administration and its majoritarian agenda [requires the] need [for] historical role models of resistance more than ever.  Clearly, new strategies are required in approaching a corrupt historical archive” (Milne 1). While his academic essay explores the problem of distorted (or entirely lacking) narratives of slaves in the context of the 1741 New York conspiracy, I’d like to highlight a parallel contemporary issue through the medium digital video.

By utilizing archival/found footage over the rap that Kashan and her dad produced, my aim hope is that the juxtaposition of contemporary images with lyrics recounting long-past events will blend together to create a piece that has modern weight and relevance, thus widening the breadth of its reach.

Throughout history, documentation of events and perspectives has been defined by the ruling white elite. In the case of the pre-civil war era, this class was comprised of the wealthy white slave owners and judges (such as Daniel Horsmanden) that reigned over the courts. Now, it consists of white police officers being held unaccountable for the repeated murder of unarmed black individuals, institutions that allow openly racist and bigoted white conservatives to speak in the name of “free speech,” and, of course, the election of President Trump - essentially the embodiment of the U.S.’s still rampant white supremacy.

Even more, the digital representation of these events and the communities they affect (both past and present) has often been constructed, again, by a white ruling elite. As with mainstream cinema, stories told about black people are often not produced or written by them, but rather by their white counterparts who have the privilege of greater access to mainstream filmmaking resources. In order to remedy this discrepancy in some way, this music video highlights the works of several contemporary black artists representing their own narratives through various mediums, such as rap, cinematography, singing, and choreography. These artistic creations are their own contemporary, “everyday forms of resistance” against a government that is still corrupt (Kelley 77). Additionally, the decision to utilize found archival footage (Option B) was made so as to not perpetuate the cycle of black actors only being cast in passive roles of slavery. While this dramatization can be a powerful reminder of the systems that have existed in the past, we felt it would be more in line with our project’s theme to give screen time instead to more agential and culturally informed representations of blackness by showing the work of influential black artists.

As such, the film explores black mimicry of the white elite (parallel to the Geneva Club’s imitation of Freemasonry) by parodying classic symbols of authority, such as the U.S. flag, attire, expensive cars and money. For another example, clips included feature the the race reversal of instances of police brutality, again highlighting the difference in power dynamics and thus subtly subverting still-present institutional racism. As a commentary on the way in which narratives are and have been distorted by those in power, the music video also featured footage from recent Berkeley protests which were made out to be “violent” by the mainstream media, despite the fact that there were no major injuries reported.The film additionally plays with the motif of fire, further alluding to the burning of buildings by the 1741 conspirators.

Overall, by drawing parallels between past to present, we aim to bring more attention to the conspiracy, highlighting why it is important in an academic and social contemporary context.