The first book on Maroons in the United States is coming out today. Slavery’s Exiles: The Story of the American Maroons is the work of Sylviane A. Diouf, an award-winning historian who is also the Schomburg Center’s own Curator of Digital Collections and Director of the Schomburg-Mellon Humanities Summer Institute.Based on years of research Slavery’s Exiles presents a detailed portrait of the maroons; from isolated individuals to families and large communities. Who the maroons were, what led them to choose this way of life over alternatives, what forms of marronage they created, what their daily lives were like, how they organized themselves to survive, and how their particular story fits into the larger narrative of slave resistance are some of the many questions that the book seeks to answer.
Slavery’s Exiles: The Story of the American Maroons
Sylviane A. Diouf
January 2014, Cloth
Read the introduction here.
In the context of the privileged boys prep school in Dead Poets Society, such rhapsodizing is a romantic and affordable indulgence: cultivating bohemian fantasies for the kids who will inevitably grow up to become Masters of the Universe.
"Same Love," or same old shit?
—KAREN TONGSON takes on Macklemore’s “Same Love” in this critical,
much-read (and hotly debated) piece.
Celebrating women of color, one girl at a time
—ANDREANA CLAY responds to The Onion, after the magazine
posted a tweet calling nine year old Quvenzhané Wallis the c-word.
—ILENE KALISH, Executive Editor for Social Sciences at NYU Press, shares her single most valuable tip for authors: rewrite.
See the full list here!
We may never touch queerness, but we can feel it as the warm illumination of a horizon imbued with potentiality…an ideality that can be distilled from the past and used to imagine a future. The future is queerness’ domain. Queerness is a structuring and educated mode of desiring that allows us to see the future beyond the quagmire of the present. The here and now is a prison house. We must strive, in the face of the here and now’s totalizing rendering of reality, to think and feel a then and there. Some will say that all we have are the pleasures of the moment, but we must never settle for that minimal transport; we must dream and enact new and better pleasures, other ways of being in the world, and ultimately new worlds … Queerness is essentially about the rejection of a here and now and an insistence on potentiality or concrete possibility for another world.
… Jewish children never, it emerged, begged to be taken to church. Rather, they begged for decorated trees and Santa Claus. Jews replied with Hanukkah.
It’s University Press Week—a perfect opportunity for us to spotlight a few of the incredible folks behind NYU Press!
Meet the newest members of our community with this round-up of Q&As (clockwise from top):
Stay tuned to our blog for more Q&As with folks from across departments—coming soon!
It’s University Press Week! So why not check out some of the great university presses on Tumblr?
- Baylor University Press
- Cambridge [University Press] Exhibitions
- Duke University Press
- Georgetown University Press
- McGill-Queen’s University Press
- MIT Press
- Northwestern University Press
- NYU Press
- Oxford Academic (Oxford University Press) [That’s us!]
- University of Chicago Press
- University of Texas Press
- University Press of Kentucky eBook Exchange
- Yale University Press
Did we miss anyone? Let us know and we’ll add to the list.
Our university press friends on Tumblr! Great list, OUP. <33
Hot summer nights in upstate New York in the late 1970s were made more bearable by trips to the drive-in movie. Family movie night, Mom’s Charlie perfume wafting through the car, Dad opening another can of Genesee cream ale, grubby hands reaching into brown paper bags filled with homemade popcorn. Windows down, bouncing over rutted fields in the red paneled station wagon, backing into the spot next to a speaker, flipping down the back door, spreading out blankets and pillows and settling in for a movie. Smokey and the Bandit sequels galore—Sally Field, Burt Reynolds, Dom Deluise.
Once, when we arrived to a later showing, there was not the typical family friendly flick– instead, a killer bee movie! My brother and I begged to stay and predictably regretted it once the first 15 minutes established what was to come. Peeking through our hands, bees invaded, swarmed, stung, and killed. They were unstoppable, traveling across oceans and continents to ‘get us.’
Back home, other summer nights were perfect for made-for-television, movies-of-the-week about killer bees, daring me to watch them while babysitting my brother. At night, alone in the house, I clamped the storm windows down tightly sealing our house. The next morning, my mom complained about the stuffiness—clearly, she did not understand the craftiness of bees when they thirst for the kill. Obviously screens are no barrier against these killers, and I’m not sure if she knew I had also closed the fireplace flue.
The titles of these movies from another era indicate the attitude then associated with the insects: The Deadly Bees (1967), Killer Bees (1974), The Savage Bees (1976), The Swarm (1978), The Bees (1978), Terror Out of the Sky: The Revenge of the Savage Bees (1979). Bees, traveling from South America via Mexico and originally from Africa – were lethal, and news stories confirmed they killed dogs and children. I imagined them crawling all over me, stinging. Writhing as the swarm covered my entire body, in my mouth, my ears, my nose.
So it makes sense that when a “beehive” was identified in between suburban yards that summer, the unsupervised neighborhood boys spent a few days throwing rocks at the colony, girls witnessing from the periphery. As is usually the case, gangs of bored children were unsatisfied and things escalated to long sticks poked into the enormous grey hive high above the ground. We were furiously dedicated to creating spear-like sticks, which we called ‘javelins,’ made pointy and sharp by friction, rubbing them on blacktop. The girls took the role of javelin sharpeners. Fingertips were worn down as we frantically attempted to make the sharpest tip. One very aggressive lancing brought the hive crashing to the ground. Angry bees came flying from the smashed up hive, drilling into the group of screaming children. Frenzied, I quickly made it to the family room first and manned the sliding glass door to let in my screaming friends.
Thinking that we were all safe, I decided to lead a team to inspect the hive. “Maybe we should use the hose to douse the bees with water,” I suggested. I reviewed the plan with my crew and pulled the door open. My shrieking brother fell into the shag carpet clutching his eyes. When I pulled his hands from his face, he looked as if he was pulling back his eyelids. The swelling was immediate and I feared that the venom would kill him instantly. The killer bees had gotten him. He gasped for air. I screamed for my mom and we piled into the station wagon to race my brother to the hospital. Once treated and released, he was diagnosed as allergic to bees and gravely warned of future threats from bees. From that moment on, he became one of the elementary schoolchildren who immediately were ushered out of the classroom once a bee entered. He had to carry medication in case of a sting.As an adult, I know now that those ‘bees’ were actually paper wasps. Bees are often mis-identified and all flying, stinging animals are generically called ‘bee.’ But what is striking to me about my beliefs about bees is how much my animal ‘instinct,’ fostered by bad movies and crappy TV shows, has been about reacting from a place of fear. My instinct, fueled by other agendas set by pop culture and parents, was to kill, harm, or injure the bees. Even though I had never been stung as a child, I swatted, shrieked, and sprinted with the best of them. Little did I know that one third of my food was pollinated through bees’ labor, life was made sweeter through their hives, and beautiful flowers flourished under their diligent work.