Blackface is More Dutch than Clogs, Seriously
I half expected spell check to notify my lazy hand that “blackface” was not a word when I typed this title, but then remembered that when I posted to Facebook about the black lace number I wore to my job’s gala last month, auto correct had me wearing #blackface for a second. Never that. But yeah, it’s a trending topic. One that has re-emerged this year with celebrities’ blackface Halloween costumes in the U.S., “Disco Africa” parties featuring blackface at Milan’s Fall Fashion Week, naked black-bodied Oprah dresses for sale by one of Miley’s stylists, and, of course, the blackface tradition of the Dutch holiday, Sinterklaas.
In case you haven’t been to blustery Amsterdam during Sinterklaas season, “Sinterklaas" is the name of the guy and the secular celebration — think, “Christmas” without the religion or commercialism — that falls on December 5th this year. There are homemade gifts and love abounds. Well, kinda.
The trouble begins when Sinterklaas arrives from Spain by ship every November with his “helper,” Zwarte Piet (Black Pete, yup), to deliver gifts to all the children of the Netherlands (yes, the Dutch Santa). Black Pete is basically Sinterklaas' black-faced slave on whom Santa’s elves have been based (cuz who’s ever heard of Santa having paid help?). He not only assists in gift distribution, but through the 1990s children were threatened with punishment by the “Black Petes” (there’s a “gang” of them) if they did not behave. There are numerous “Petes,” but only one Sinterklaas at any gathering. Black Pete is a huge marketing tool; more Dutch than clogs. During the season, Pete is out and about, acting like and being a slave, in supermarket circulars, department stores, on wrapping paper and decorations, at Sinterklaas parties, and in the street (think parade of white Dutch adults and children in blackface, gold hoop earrings and afros).
When, during my first Sinterklaas in Holland (I endured three of these holidays in total while in graduate school there), I was accosted by scores of blackened faces in the streets, I began hyperventilating and had to escape to a café to avoid the parade and reverie of adults and children seeming to openly mock and deride me. While I had been warmly welcomed to the country by a group of multicultural artists and cool kids in the Hague, it all of a sudden felt like I had gone back in time. All blacks had become these objects to be laughed at, ridiculed and demonized by an entire country. And there was nothing I could do about it.
The coming of the Sinterklaas season each year renewed my pain. There was an eerie blind spot to the propagation of this stereotype that was a disappointment, given the Dutch reputation for openness and critical thinking. The history of this holiday and its continuation is demonstrative of a country that refuses to acknowledge and atone for a legacy of slavery and exploitation.
In the long history of Europe (Europe is old yo, churches from the 1400s abound), this tradition is relatively young — just over 100 years old, having emerged at the turn of the century around the end of slavery and almost simultaneously with the minstrel tradition in the United States.
At least in the U.S., we made Santa’s helper an elf. That the Dutch have been so resistant to changing or re-imagining him is telling. The riches from the Dutch golden era of exploration, colonization (they were the original settlers of Brazil and South Africa — apartheid is a Dutch word), and profits from the traffic of people from Africa to the Americas (the Dutch were manufacturers of slave ships), is the wealth on which the country sits and why a holiday like Sinterklaas, no matter how apolitical it has become, is a vile reminder of this exploitation. At least I thought so.
To be truthful, I experienced very little overt racism during the three years that I lived there. There were no nooses, no "nigger go home" notes (like the one I found scrawled in the elevator of my Soho studio six months prior to leaving for the Netherlands). As an African American I was seemingly exempt from the contempt and discrimination experienced by the Dutch of North African and Caribbean descent.
During my first year in Holland, in an attempt to be open, I began to think that maybe I was the uptight one. The only other people up in arms over the holiday were white American expatriate workers interviewed on the news during the holiday, horrified at the black-faced minstrels that marched through the streets. Moments like those made me proud of Americans. The civil rights movement and a history of fighting injustice had somehow sensitized my white compatriots to the very wrongness of this holiday.
The only other person that openly wanted no part of the holiday was a gay, white Dutch male friend that said we needed to “burn Sinterklaas.” Holland is not quite burning now, but a fire has been lit.
Since 2011 — perhaps inspired by the now defunct Arab Spring, social media activism, and the “outing” of this holiday on the internets — there has been a groundswell against the depiction Black Pete. There is more activism than ever with attempts to raise awareness about the racism implicit in Pete's depiction and efforts to re-imagine Black Pete as aracial (kids are slathering on multi-colored paint looking like M&Ms). There was also a silent protest held this year during which protestors taped their mouths and turned their backs on the parade.
Last year a friend and former lecturer at the University of Amsterdam, Bibi Fadlalla, directed a documentary, Zwarte Piet En Ik (Black Pete and Me) that aired on Dutch public television. It detailed the history of the holiday, explored its roots and chilling effects on the brown people of the country. Dutch pop star, Anouk, publicly came out against depictions of Black Pete only to receive death threats and to be called a whore because she was previously married to a Dutch rapper of Surinamese descent. It is this type of violent and racist backlash that has convinced many on the left, who had been reluctant to push for any change, to join the struggle (I remember when even humanities professors called the holiday “gezellich" — cozy, warm, etc. — when I tried to engage in dialog).
I’ve wondered since I’ve been back if perhaps I should have done more, could have done more to express my disdain for this holiday and to free the homey, Pete. But as I was a stranger in a strange land, I felt limited in challenging a tradition that was so dear to so many. I am happy to see the change coming, however, albeit slowly. The mayor of Amsterdam has declared that all Black Petes in the city’s parade remove the gold earrings from their costumes to tone down what has finally been recognized as explicit racism. Curiously, the black paint remains.
