We are pleased to launch Afrofuturist Studies with our first title, Black Speculative Fiction & the Afrodiaspora: Afrofuturist Feminisms and Other Perspectives, edited by Dr. ‘BioDun Ogundayo and Dr. Tracee Howell. Forthcoming in 2022, Black Speculative Fiction gathers Afrodiasporic and Black feminist perspectives on Afrodiasporic speculative literatures, deepening our knowledge and understanding of Afrofuturism as not just a literary aesthetic but also as an analytical tool for engaging global expressions of the Black experience. In particular, this volume offers Afrodiasporic perspectives on gender, race, and identity that question Western perspectives on Afrofuturism, positing the development of cross-cultural Afrofuturist feminism(s). It also adds to the burgeoning field of Afrofuturist Studies by engaging with intercultural conversations in the Afrodiaspora regarding concepts of Afrofuturism and their critiques. The book’s chapters situate these discussions around themes of Africanfuturism, Afro-optimism, and Afropolitanism, addressing the link between Black speculative fiction and the theorizing of Afrofuturist feminisms, particularly in the works of Nnedi Okorafor, Nalo Hopkinson, and Octavia E. Butler.

Other Perspectives on Afrofuturism: Interview with the Editors

With this volume coming to fruition, we posed a few questions for its editors, Dr. ‘BioDun Ogundayo and Dr. Tracee Howell.

What does this edited volume explore, in respect to issues and questions around Afrofuturism, feminism, speculative fiction, and other ideas? What interests you in the collection?

‘BioDun Ogundayo: This volume explores themes and theories of Afrofuturism from outside the USA—home of Afrofuturist writings. Essays reflect on a variety of iterations of key Afrofuturism concepts from African, Afro-Caribbean, Afro-Hispanic, and Black feminist perspectives.

Tracee Howell: As ‘BioDun has mentioned, this volume explores how scholars from both within and outside of the United States are engaging with—and expanding upon—contemporary themes and theories of Afrofuturism. As editors, we were especially interested in learning how researchers and teachers might be exploring possible connections among African, Afro-Caribbean, Afro-Hispanic and African-American traditions, mythos and meanings in their work on Black speculative fiction. I’m incredibly excited by the amount of work we received that offers feminist readings and scholarship in response to our call. In fact, what I’ve learned throughout the process of putting this collection together—and what will most impact my own future work and teaching—is truly how bountiful the connections are between contemporary Black feminist perspectives and current works of Afrofuturism, Africanfuturism, and Black speculative fiction in general.

How did you come to Afrofuturism, Black speculative approaches, fiction, arts, in your life and work?

‘BioDun: Teaching African, African American, and Caribbean literature and cinema, interacting with, and mentoring Black youth from across the world. I was struck by the connections between modern African, Afro-Caribbean, and African American literary and spiritual traditions and practices. I then revisited Pan-Africanism as a concept and practice, and it became clear to me that Afrofuturism is a re-imagining, in a more contemporary way, of the epistemolog(ies) of Pan-Africanism that culminate in positive and empowering visions of Global Blackness across all media and art forms. Simply put, and to paraphrase Aimé Césaire, Afrofuturism and Black speculative fiction are a project (globally) to restore Blackness, and to promote Black humanity, especially given the 500-year history of slavery, colonization, and white supremacy. These have consistently denied Black agency; thus, Afrofuturism is ideologically an activist response, or counter-narrative expressed locally but globally relevant and interconnected.

Tracee: In the much same way I came to the study of all literature—I’m a voracious reader. Aren’t we all? In the last, say six or seven years, especially as an American, I’ve been taking solace in science and speculative fiction, re-reading Octavia Butler, and finding my way to N.K. Jemison, and musically/visually, Janelle Monáe. Then, in 2017, several of my colleagues and I arranged for Nnedi Okorafor to come and speak at our campus the following year. In addition to her talk, she very graciously visited my American literature class, and even had dinner with our students, during which she hinted at further adventure for Binti, and discussed TV, film, and graphic novel work in process. She was just terrific and so incredibly generous, and my students were completely dazzled, as were we all. As for me, by the time of her visit I’d already fallen head over heels for Binti, both as a reader and a teacher. I’d inserted the novella into my reading list that semester in honor of her visit, and discovered that its impact was especially significant for first-generation students, who wrote that they were able to see themselves in the character. At dinner with Nnedi Okorafor, to hear those students shyly tell her how personally meaningful they found this story to be, that reading Binti helped them to feel more comfortable on campus—this was one of those all too rare moments of connection that I think we all hope for as college professors. That night I began developing our campus’ first course in Afrofuturism and US literature. Its offering attracted the attention of my friend and colleague ‘BioDun Ogundayo, who oversees our program in Africana Studies, and we began talking about Afrofuturism as an interdisciplinary aesthetic phenomenon, which led to our decision to do an edited collection.

What does Afrofuturism mean to you, as arts, aesthetics, but also praxis, politics, epistemology, in our contemporary moment?

‘BioDun:  Afrofuturism to me is the endless opportunities to reaffirm, reshape, (even contest or problematize aspects of Blackness) using the greatest tool that guarantees Black survival: the mind—the capacity to imagine, and then create and recreate, even rearrange aspects of our collective experience to tell the world, in the eternal words of Maya Angelou: “And Still I Rise”. Afrofuturism to me means that Black people, just like our Jewish kin, are always ennobled by soul-killing hate and suffering. Afrofuturism to me is the Middle Passage as the umbilical cord between our glorious past, our unbearable present, and our optimism against dark energies that seek, like in the past, to deny and destroy Blackness. Afrofuturism is the amulet, the talisman, the compass for the Afropolitan and the Afro-optimist against white supremacy, against social death. Afrofuturism, whether as praxis, theory, or aesthetics is not to replace white supremacy with Black supremacy. It is our power to remember, imagine, and create our future, for us, by ourselves. For me, it is remembering with humility and compassion. It is Black anamnesis in opposition to diabolic amnesia.

Tracee: In part, this question is something I explore in my essay within the collection, and of course, the answer for me continues to evolve. But in general, as a literary scholar and teacher rooted in feminism and anti-racism, I see potential for Afrofuturism to help intensify the (too) gradual transformation of the academy away from the sole privileging of white, male Enlightenment perspectives, practices, and processes. As a white academic myself, at the same time I also worry about the whitewashing of Afrofuturism, and a superficial or performative use by white scholars and the primarily white academy. But the time for significant change in the American University is long overdue; we’ve most definitely centered white experience long enough.