It’s the realization that there are no absolutes, except when there are. Unmitigated Blackness is essays passing for fiction. Clarence Cooper, Charlie Parker, Richard Pryor, Maya Deren, Sun Ra, Mizoguchi, Frida Kahlo, black-and-white Godard, Céline, Gong Li, David Hammons, Björk, and the Wu-Tang Clan in any of their hooded permutations. Unmitigated Blackness is simply not giving a fuck. It’s “whereas” and “things of that nature.” It’s our beautiful hands and our fucked-up feet. It’s the crossover dribble and wearing house shoes outside. It’s Tiparillos, chitterlings, and a night in jail. It’s Donald Goines, Chester Himes, Abbey Lincoln, Marcus Garvey, Alfre Woodard, and the serious black actor. On the surface Unmitigated Blackness is a seeming unwillingness to succeed. I’m not sure what Unmitigated Blackness is, but whatever it is, it doesn’t sell. “There should be a Stage IV of black identity-Unmitigated Blackness.
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