There have been people of color in Britain for the better part of two millennia. North Africans were part of the Roman imperial army resident there as far back as the third century, and there’s been a continuous and sustained "Black" presence in the British Isles for the past 400 years, the by-product of sundry imperial adventures and of Britain’s involvement in the transatlantic slave trade.

But it’s really in the fifty-odd years since World War II, once British colonial subjects began migrating to the UK in great numbers, that the category "black" has seriously troubled or complicated the category "British." And it was even more recently that the two terms were strategically and self-consciously joined together, that the unique phenomenon we know as "Black Britain" was named into being, largely by writers and artists, in order to forge a unique political and cultural identity. It turned out that this imagined nation didn’t survive intact all that long: "Black" was a label that could only precariously unite people of African, Afro-Caribbean, "Asian" (itself a problematic term) and mixed-race descent in the UK. But the issues—and the consciousness—it raised have nevertheless had a lasting effect on what it means to be culturally, ethnically, nationally British at the end of the 20th century. Our focus in this class, then, will be not merely on UK writers and artists who are unproblematically "Black," but on some of the work responsible for bringing an evolving and contested sense of Black Britishness into existence—that is, some of the work by means of which "Black Britain" got born and raised.

Work. Colloquia are loosely modelled on the "seminar," which has a built-in propensity for dullness—so your principal responsibility will be to do everything in your power to keep us from falling headlong or sliding languidly into a tedious rut. I may often need to lecture at you or engage in a bit of show-&-tell. But colloquy means talk, so you’ll be credited largely on your overall engagement in our talk; that is, on the degree of intelligence, inquisitiveness and enthusiasm you show, both in responding to one another and to the materials under scrutiny, and in helping to control the direction and flow of the conversation. I hope that’s not too daunting a task; at any rate, in order to forestall objections to my characteristically heavy reading list, it’s the single biggest thing I’m asking of you by way of substantive work. To grease the wheels of this procedure, though, each week I’ll be asking a fraction of the class to carry out two more linked tasks:

1. Individually, each of those people will distribute in advance some serious but informal responses to the week’s reading (around 750 words’ worth—the rough equivalent of three to four notebook pages). (These folks will do not only the required reading but that which is only "recommended" for the rest of the class.) As you work what may initially be inchoate ideas into electronic bits and marks on screen, you’ll generate some ready-made material (work-in-progress, anyway) for you and us to bat around and refer to in class.
2. Collectively, those same people (in optional consultation with me) will be responsible for provoking, shaping, and coordinating our discussion of the texts assigned for each week’s meeting. (Details in a separate handout.)

Internet listserv. Given that the infrequency of our meetings will produce a certain lack of continuity, I’d like for us to maintain contact throughout the week via a listserv (an e-mail address that automatically distributes anything sent to it to all members of the class). I’m aware that a combination of technological glitches, user unfamiliarity and Luddite resistance often conspires to keep this from becoming the tool for knowledge-sharing and community-building that we might like it to be; but designated facilitators should nevertheless e-mail their riff on the week’s readings to this address:

at least one full day in advance of our class meeting. In addition, I and/or the weekly coordinators may have afterthoughts, important announcements or avisos to offer you, so check your e-mail regularly. And finally, everyone should consider themselves encouraged to use this forum informally to continue (or start) conversations during any of the 166 hours per week that class doesn’t meet.

Texts. There are two texts that you should pick up at the HSU Bookstore or anywhere else you can find them:

• Samuel Selvon’s novel The Lonely Londoners and
• Hanif Kureishi’s screenplay for the film My Beautiful Laundrette

Grades. OK, let’s come clean: as far as I can tell, nobody really seems to know what sort of standards or expectations to enforce in these colloquia. Mainly what I expect is a seriousness of purpose and some sort of lively, critical engagement on your part. (And I expect you to show up, of course: missing more than one of eight classes will seriously jeopardize your fate.) While you need to be a serious slacker in order to fail a class like this, you do need to complete all the requirements listed on this syllabus to receive a passing grade. And I don’t expect to give any incompletes.

• The cumulative quality and quantity of your responses—in class and on-line—to the things you read and study will together count for roughly twice as much as:
• The deftness and competence with which you collectively conceive and carry out the coordination of your part of one class meeting.

I’ll read and respond to all of your work in at least a minimal fashion and serve as your consultant, if you like, when you plan a discussion agenda. And I’ll be happy to meet with you at any time to talk about your progress and prospects.