The power of an icon

PICTURES become powerful symbolic representations of a social or political message, resulting in the shattering of stereotypes or setting into motion movements that strike at the core of the dismal realities of war, poverty or gender discrimination. Some pictures are iconic, searing the mind with the harshness of a brutal reality.We have the case of the young infant lying dead on the beach symbolising the heart-rending misery of the homeless refugee or the picture of the dead child in the Bhopal gas tragedy that sent waves of anger globally against the negligence of Union Carbide.  I am reminded too of the photo of crying children, including Nine-year-old Kim Phuc, running down a road in Vietnam after an aerial napalm attack on suspected Viet Cong hideouts. It symbolised the horrors of genocide and finally was instrumental in ending the Vietnam War.

A picture indeed, speaks a thousand words. So goes the cliché about the power of a picture to plumb the depths of an emotional, aesthetic response where mere words fail. Serena Williams on the cover of Vanity Fair, sinewy, confident, pregnant and comfortable in her glowing olive skin is iconic and a remarkable reminder of where we have arrived in race and gender relations from where we were as recently as the 1960s. 

This picture is particularly significant in the light of the recent movie called Hidden Figures, based on a true story about three brilliant Black women, forging a bold, determined and formidable path in the elite, White-centric world of NASA. These were the 1960s; America was sending a man into orbit and here on Earth, its women who worked in the prestigious space programe, had to run across several buildings to the only “Coloured” toilet for Black Women! So it was not too long ago that Black people could only use clearly marked toilets, drink from separate water fountains and sit at the back of a bus. The three brave women break many barriers but the insidious fences against the strength of a woman, her Blackness, and her celebration of bringing a child into this world loom large while we pay grudging lip service at the altar of the political correctness debate. 

With her picture, Serena has thrown down the gauntlet and demonstrated that there is nothing “hidden” in her “figure”. She has brought to centre stage the importance of recognising difference and yet transcend it. In this context, the bitterness of the contemporary debate over racially charged issues aiming at racial justice and the general nature and implications of discrimination cannot be ignored. Serena is a powerful athlete, fierce in her defiance of the world that may excoriate her for putting her naked body on the cover for everyone to see.

Unmindful of the critical gaze, she looks away as if to the far horizon to the time when gender, race and colour preconceptions will not determine your opportunities at success. She asserts her legitimate right to use the media as a man does — without guilt or shame or the burden of having to explain the reasons why. Why can a man expose himself to near-nudity and garner gushing praise for his physical beauty and not a woman? 

Serena needs to be complimented for being that real picture that gives voice to millions of women who struggle under the cloak of secrecy every day, demonstrating to them that a woman is a unique, life-giving, powerful, independent individual. She cannot be repressed any longer by the chokehold of a subversive patriarchy and a sexist culture on the tennis court dominated by white males like John McEnroe who disparage Serena's achievements by the odious comparison with male tennis players or speak of her crossbreed foetus as a blemish in a world that now stands for hybridity and plurality, recognising identity not through colour but through  performance. The slogan of “colourblindess” as a positive feature of multiculturalism stands negated in the picture that defies the invisibility demanded of Black women. The problem of toleration is inherently troublesome and raises the question of the extent to which any society can be morally and culturally pluralistic.  Racism is still rampant in the world and “colour blindness” is a mere ideological construct to hide the pervasive colour consciousness.  

Serena is now no longer uncomfortable about her body and flaunts her enormous physical prowess which the stereotypes of the social world deride. She rightfully realises the strength of her body that underpins her monumental performance on the court.  Her politics of recognition sit comfortably with her self-confidence in her colour, her body and her gender. Motherhood in the form of pregnancy precisely becomes a form of vital, creative power like her thundering forehand hitting the white supremacist male in the face. 

The picture underscores that colourblind ideology indeed might not be the best way of moving towards a more egalitarian society.  The argument, apparently, is based more on the rationale that equality and content of merit matters more in a sensible analysis of the problems ailing the  blacks. To evolve an unbiased action plan for the rights of the Black women, the politics of recognition and difference must become the basis of a critical frame.  This would counter any cultural imperialism that fails to recognise the equal dignity of all and highlight the  differentiation that recognises the unique identity and authenticity of cultural groups and individuals. In a post-racial society, problems emanating from racial issues require visible solutions which are conscious of race matters and not oblivious of racial discrimination.  Serena William's timely decision to pose on the cover is indeed a move beyond discrimination to a post-racial liberation from a narrative based on colour, race, gender and sexual orientation.

The writer is a Professor in the Department of English and Cultural Studies, Panjab University