By Victoria Editor

Black artists should be photographed by black photographers for covers of black-owned magazines featuring content written by black journalists. For centuries, black narratives have been told through the lens of white perception, which has allowed these outsiders to not only control how our stories are disseminated and how our identities are translated but to become authority figures on the culture we create and trends we helm. White people tout themselves as the pioneers of the aforementioned creative pursuits, causing disparity in opportunities afforded to well-equipped black newcomers who can provide authentic commentary on black subjects.

Dana Scruggs made history when she shot an editorial for Rolling Stone as the first black person and black woman to shoot for the magazine in its 51 years of publication. After taking a chance on herself by migrating to Amsterdam, the Chicago born and Brooklyn nurtured creative was taken under the wing of Swizz Beats and represented by his The Dean Collection arts initiative. This comes at an exciting time when we just finished praising Beyoncé for appointing the first black photographer, Tyler Mitchell, to capture her for a special edition of Vogue’s September issue. But the confetti must hit the floor and the champagne will dry up at some point.

In the wake of Dana Scrugg’s monumental accomplishment, we were hit with a textbook example of unabashed frat-boyism and racial/gender insensitivity that we never saw coming but were nevertheless unsurprised. Andy Cohn, president and publisher of The Fader magazine, posted a side-by-side comparison of Jonathan Mannion’s, a Diddy-endorsed photographer of rap and r&b’s heavy-hitters, 2014 TF cover of Travis Scott alongside that of Dana Scruggs’ cover for Rolling Stone with the caption “LEAD (2014) >>> FOLLOW (2018)” on Instagram over the weekend, seemingly implying that Rolling Stone copied his magazine’s past creative direction. To add insult to injury in his ego trip, Cohn originally failed to credit Scruggs as photographer of the RS editorial slated to hit racks soon. Mannion piggybacked this childlike buffoonery with a virtual high-five by reposting the comparison injected with his own two cents.

This blatant erasure of black creativity follows a history of white theft in the arts. From Elvis Presley being deemed the “king of rock ‘n roll” although it is widely known that he stole music and adapted his dancing chops to movements only African-Americans were caught executing in his lifetime to the myriad of hairstyles worn by black women that white women have co-opted, these violations of heritage and innovation are commonplace. Toni Morrison alluded to this historical exclusion of the black presence and its ability to self-narrate when she stated (1992), “There seems to be a more or less tacit agreement among literary scholars, because American literature has been clearly the preserve of white male views, genius, and power, that those views, genius, and power are without relationship to and removed from the overwhelming presence of black people in the United States” (p.8). Black people have challenged this unfortunate norm by continuing to rise up and seat themselves at the tables we constructed but were never invited to feast at.

After much “canceling” by industry colleagues and a barrage of digital backlash from users in support of Dana Scruggs, the posts from the offenders have either been deleted or revised and public apologies issued. While the black community cannot concern ourselves with the sincerity of the apologies for the misconduct, we can use the situation as further evidence of the need for solutions to this systemic problem.

Black artists and tastemakers like Beyoncé, Swizz Beats, Jay-Z, Sean “Diddy” Combs and company who’ve crossed the threshold into universal acceptance have a unique responsibility to pass the torch to their successors and to attempt to make the road less harrowing for newcomers to navigate—but the efforts of few cannot support the weight of many. As a people, we are lacking a sensibility rooted in collectivism on a major scale. Now this musing isn’t meant to conclude that the overarching problem is actually us, but simply a call to remind us that we, too, play a part in the frequency of these infractions.

We hold the power as the true gatekeepers to our heavily imitated culture and have the means to prevent future perversions. The responsibility of our supposed allies lies in their willingness to refrain from solely engaging with the black female body in the form of voyeurism in favor of allowing our voices to be amplified by simply staying silent when necessary, speaking out against violence in its many manifestations, and allowing us space to retell our own stories.

Bibliography

https://www.rollingstone.com/music/music-features/travis-scott-rap-superstar-cover-story-767906/

Morrison, Toni (1992). Playing in the Dark: Whiteness and the Literary Imagination.

All imagery edited in mono filter. Photographers/publications remain in possession of all associated copyrights to works.