- Why is Clarence (“Daisy”) added to the African-American version of this story?
- Is militancy in the Irish context similar to the African-American context? Do these two films present them similarly?
- The n-word is used at times in Uptight. Is this part of creating an accurate depiction of African-American life or is it a problematic aspect of this movie?
- Why is the main character of this plot line portrayed as both a drunk and a bit of an oaf?
Discussion Questions (3/30)
- Why is “Northern Ireland” a contentious term?
- I know someone else has asked this already, but what is the effect of depicting women in Heaney’s poetry?
- Does the civil rights push of Irish Catholics follow a similar path to the African-American civil rights movement of starting with non-violence (for the most part) and moving toward more militant measures? Or are the non-violent and violent approaches more simultaneous?
Reconciling Hurston and the New Negro
After my presentation on Monday, I was having trouble placing Zora Neale Hurston within the New Negro ideology. I wondered if I misidentified the New Negro idea, as presented by Alain Locke. I questioned why she would write these stories that seemed so stereotypical of an African-American experience in the South. With the freedom offered by the Harlem Renaissance and the opportunity to express oneself for the first time, I wondered why Hurston would returned to these images. I seriously considered whether Hurston was participating in minstrelsy through this portrayal.
However, what Professor Kinyon said in class on Wednesday about this point has really stuck with me. Hurston’s approach in writing Mules and Men doesn’t have anything to do with the racist and stereotypical portrayals of African-Americans by whites. Hurston is showing African-Americans, plain and simple, and what white people choose to think about the individuals she has depicted is irrelevant.
While I agree with this analysis of Hurston’s approach, I wonder if we are returning to the conversation we had earlier in the semester on art being apolitical. The presentation of stereotypical characters in addition to the cakewalk in Hurston’s work attempts to present these aspects of African-American life outside of their political meanings during Hurston’s time. However, while Hurston attempts to preserve these cultural practices, I assert that by the time she writes these works, these practices have already been lost. They can now longer exist as purely representations of African-American culture; viewing them in that light would allow art to be apolitical and ignorant of the political moment. While I have come to terms with why Hurston wants to preserve these cultural remnants, I moved to the question of whether that is possible and, at the moment, I am leaning toward the idea that, as soon as minstrelsy altered the political weight of these cultural practices, these practices were lost and could not be recovered. In line with Professor’s paper, it seems that preservation is not an accurate representation of Huston’s work in Mules and Men or “Color Struck.” Rather, despite the joy that is depicted at times throughout these works, this writing is a eulogy for what has been lost, not a preservation of what is slipping away. Hurston gives a eulogy for the image of the Black southerner and the cakewalk dance, pure black expressions now always connected to minstrelsy and the political gain of whites. All art is political and, by looking at Hurston through this line of thinking, her work aligns more closely to the politically-bent New Negro ideology of Locke than I initially surmised.
Discussion Questions (3/25)
In “John Redding,” happiness is portrayed through weeping (p. 6) and, at the end, Alf claims to be “happy” for his son because he is going to the sea (p. 16). Additionally, Hurston describes the many things that black laughter can mean in Mules and Men (p. 62). Why is emotion portrayed this way and does that change the way we relate this work to keening, another emotive action?
What is the significance of the sea as a hopeful thing in “John Redding” against the depiction of the sea as dangerous (to people and cultures) in Synge and the history of the slave trade?
Discussion Questions for Monday (3/23)
How can we compare Hurston in Mules and Men to Synge in the Aran Islands and Joel Chandler Harris in the Uncle Remus stories? Are they after the same goal? Do they approach their goal the same way? Do they achieve the same thing?
Is Mules and Men a work of minstrelsy, specifically thinking about the dialect?
How does Mules and Men relate to the Harlem Renaissance? Is Hurston working within the New Negro ideology or doing something entirely different?
What do you make of the way Christianity is treated in Mules and Men and Characteristics of Negro Expression (p. 27)?
Using Spectacle to Hold Open the Door: In Dahomey
We’ve talked about spectacle a number of times in this class. We asked whether Gulliver was a spectacle in Lilliput and the country of the Houyhnhnms, which seems likely in both instances in the way he is seen as almost a tourist attraction. For instance, he writes in Lilliput that “as the news of my arrival spread throughout the kingdom, it brought prodigious numbers of rich, idle, and curious people to see me (Swift, 15).” Additionally, we wondered whether Douglass was a spectacle in Ireland, arriving at a more inconclusive answer.
However, in In Dahomey, the question of spectacle is never in doubt. As Daphne Brooks writes about the play, “The press trumpeted the arrival of African-American performers in a musical of their own making and encouraged the public to attend the production, if only to observe the odd miracle of African-American theater (Brooks, 207).” As this quote shows, the all-black cast was a spectacle regardless of the content of the play. On one hand, this intentional spectacle gave African-Americans an important viewership that at the very least opened the door for black actors to become more prominent in theatre. Yet it also put limitations on what these women and men could achieve through this play. The all-black cast made this play a work of “black art,” which was thus undeniably political. All art made by a marginalized person is automatically political and can longer solely entertain. Thus, if the writers of In Dahomey attempted to present obvious critiques of the color line, racial discrimination, and the Jim Crow South, they would lose the precious viewership achieved by this spectacle (at least in the United States). As a result, the play portrays the racist stereotypes of African-Americans in theatre.
Brooks argues that, through Mose and Me Sing, the play mocks individualism in the black community (specifically through emigration) by exposing the greed and xenophobia that undermines such an attitude (Brooks, 246). In a way, this critique, though not explicit in the text, makes perfect sense. The writers of In Dahomey reject individualism themselves. Though they could have pursued a more overt and aggressive critique of the color line, they instead utilize their spectacle to place a foot in the door so that others, like those writers in the Harlem Renaissance, could present a more overt case. Reversing the rhetoric we have seen in the past, though the subversive critiques of society in In Dahomey show that the writers were ready to attack racial injustice, the finished product of the play shows a recognition that the world “was not yet ready.” Yet, when it became ready, In Dahomey ensured that black artists would have an entryway into the conversation.
A Glimmer of Hope in a Troublesome Text
Throughout this week, I have had some difficulty trying to discover key takeaways from Boucicault’s The Octoroon. From my first reading of the work, I was disgusted by Boucicault’s attempts to mimic African-American language in the text and his portrayal of the savage, barely able to speak Native American (played by himself). By the end, I was ashamed of my interest in the plotline despite the blackface presented throughout the play. Yet Daphne Brooks’ reading of the text changed my views and one specific point opened my eyes to the way this text could be viewed in a somewhat more positive moral light. Brooks describes Zoe, the title character, as a representation of disunion, a “manifestation of the crisis that miscegenation law sought to police,” and “impossible” (Brooks 34). In other words, Zoe was a tragic mulatta whose color-mixed existence disrupted order in the universe of the play. In order to restore order, the tragic mulatta must die (either socially or physically), which Boucicault adheres to in this work. Yet he does this with a sharp provocation of the racist society, as Brooks describes through Zoe’s death scene: “With her eyes changing color as well, Zoe is at once ‘cleansed’ of her blackness and blackened by the act of suffering as a horrified array of onlookers watch her rapidly transmuting body (41).” As this quote asserts, Boucicault grants the audience’s wish to restore order but ensures that Zoe’s whiteness is restored as she dies. George describes her features as white as she passes away. Thus, the audience sees a white woman lying dead on the stage, a victim of the slave society. It is a powerful critique of an oppressive system. While I am not sure this point absolves Boucicault of the other troublesome aspects of this reading, Brooks shows that, within this troubling presentation, there exists at least a hint of resistance to the oppressive slave society and racial hierarchy well-known to his audience.
The Awareness of Blackness
In the excerpt from TransAtlantic, I was struck by Douglass’ consistent knowledge of his own blackness. We see a reference to this in the opening paragraphs: “Douglass carried his own leather trunk to the waiting carriage: he was not yet used to being waited upon (40).” Thinking about carrying this weight and his later descriptions of the barbells, Douglass understands that he carries the weight of enslavement and the causes of black slaves on his back. It results in a nervousness. For example, the narrator notes at one point that “if [Douglas] showed a chink, they would shine a light through, stun him, maybe even blind him. He could not allow for a single mistake (52).” Additionally, the narrator asserts, “So much was expected of him. Every turn. Every gesture (50).” These passages show the pressure Douglass feels from the audience to represent his entire race in an authentic way. Earlier this week, we discussed whether Douglass was a “spectacle” or “novelty” in Ireland. These passages would seem to give this notion credibility. But I would also argue that it is part of Douglass’ appeal. He brings attention to the cause and his concerns may not be about whether he is treated as a spectacle or not but whether he is presenting an authentic truth about slavery that will resonate with the Irish people. Viewing him as only a spectacle makes some sense, but also assigns the Irish a superiority that I am not convinced they felt. We must remember that Irish-Americans (and not the Irish) were treated as white; thus, we may be ascribing our own views of white and black on the Irish depicted here. McCann’s Douglass was certainly aware of his own blackness, but the extent that the Irish were is not apparent.
Reflections on Death and Rationality
In his voyage to the country of the Houyhnhnms, Gulliver describes the horses’ experience with death saying, “If they can avoid casualties, they die only of old age, and are buried in the obscurest places that can be found, their friends and relations expressing neither joy nor grief at their departure; nor does the dying person discover the least regret that he is leaving the world, any more than if he were upon returning home from a visit to one of his neighbors (Swift, 162).” The horses’ approach to death is, pardon the irony, inhumane. In one instance, a Houyhnhnm is late to Gulliver’s place of residence because her husband died that morning and she had to bury him. The lack of emotion associated with death is chilling. Yet, to Gulliver, this approach is part of the peak of civilization.
In comparing the country of the Houyhnhnms to Europe, he finds Europe lacking. Yet, at least regarding death, Europe, and specifically the English, are similar to the Houyhnhnms. Just as the horses approach death without emotion, the English approach the death of peoples in their colonies with a similar lack of emotion. An uncountable number of African slaves died in the Atlantic Ocean and on inhumane plantations. Similarly, as ironically reflected in Swift’s A Modest Proposal, the English allowed the Irish to starve to the point that the only solution seemed to be “eating Irish babies.” In this case, the English could have and should have acted with more emotion. In fact, in many situations, indifference perpetuates injustice. Rather than universal rationality serving as the peak of human experience, a positive emotion, that of empathy, better serves humanity.
Comparing Black and Green
Paul Gilroy asserts that, for African-Americans, the memory of slavery, a lived crisis, supersedes labor, a systemic crisis. However, one way in which black people and the Irish are connected to each other is through labor. Thus, Gilroy’s assertion that labor is secondary to the living memory of slavery threatens our investigation of the relationship between these two peoples. Yet, I believe that, rather than dismantling this relationship, the prominence of the living memory of slavery provides an important nuance to our study. While the Irish and people of African descent may have spoken to one another, their oppression was not the same. While it is silly to compare the oppression of different groups of people, we must recognize that, despite their horrible treatment at the hands of the British, the Irish were never slaves. Though Thomas Carlyle calls the Irish “white negroes” and the Irish occasionally call themselves “slaves,” the word “Irish” never takes on such a close definition to slavery as the word “Negro.” Blacks aren’t derogatorily called “Irish” in the manner that the Irish are called “black.” This fact leads to an important distinction elaborated on by David Lloyd: the Irish and the people of African descent are not the same. While the British considered both West Indian Blacks and the Irish “not yet ready” to rule themselves, the Irish, through the nature of their whiteness, still had hope for future self-determination after some “civilizing” effort. Yet the blacks were never going to be ready to run their own lives on the basis of their racial difference. The Irish did not become white; they were always white, but America provided them an opportunity to mobilize their whiteness for the perpetuation of racial dominance. Black people were never afforded an opportunity to utilize the benefits of their racial background in the New World.
I do not craft this nuance to say that the Irish and people of African descent should not be compared. In fact, from the theory we have read, the comparison often comes from the oppressors, which makes it an intriguing subject of inquiry. Yet we must also always make the distinction that the Irish and people of African descent, despite both undergoing oppression and suffering, were never considered the same.