Month: March 2021

After Wednesday’s presentations, I’ve been thinking a lot about fear in Native Son and how it affects the characters’ actions. As Julian described in his presentation, there is fear on both sides of the conflict in the novel, a Black fear and a white fear. This fear prevents either side from seeing the other’s humanity and results in excessive aggression and hysteria in attempting to overcome that fear. Looking at two different examples, when Bigger kills the rat in the beginning of the novel and the search party’s efforts to capture Bigger, we can see how these characters’ fear determines their actions.

In the opening scene, Bigger tries to kill the rat while his family members are all screaming and panicking around him. What is important to note is that the rat in this scenario is probably much more afraid of the humans than they are of the rat. This is rightly so; there are multiple humans who are much larger and have much more power over the fate of the rat than he has over them. We see this clearly in the fact that Bigger is able to kill the rat in just a matter of minutes. Even though the humans have several factors working in their favor, they cannot deal calmly and rationally with their fear and instead exert all of their energy into trying to kill the rat. This parallels the relationship between the search party and Bigger when he’s on the run. Although Bigger is clearly capable of killing individuals, the search party as a whole unit is much more likely to overpower Bigger and ultimately bring him harm. Therefore, Bigger’s fear of the search party is likely greater than their fear of him. The party’s numbers and resources work in their favor to allow them to capture Bigger, and this is what brings about his death by capital punishment. In both cases, the more powerful group’s fear causes them to act with excessive force in order to accomplish their end goals, directly resulting in the deaths of the less powerful individuals.

Listening to Wednesday’s presentations pushed me to think more about the role of memory and history in the texts we’ve read so far. The presenters did a great job of pointing out the silences in the texts and in the writers’ lives—the characters in Native Son who remain voiceless, the identities that must remain hidden, and the emotions that the authors struggle to express. This is such a compelling way of approaching these readings. Interrogating the silences makes it possible to tell a more complete story and expand the world we encounter through Baldwin’s eyes. I noticed Baldwin to be preoccupied with the past and the role of memory in his essays. I would argue that this attention to memory and storytelling is a way of confronting parts of the past that have been painful or silenced.

In “Alas, Poor Richard,” Baldwin asks, “Which of us has overcome his past?” and states, “If we do not know this, …we know nothing about ourselves, nothing about each other; to have accepted this is also to have found a source of strength” (CE 266-267). It seems that for Baldwin, reckoning with the past and finding a way to speak about it is an essential part of his project as an author. Both for Baldwin’s individual memory, confronting his place in his family and in America, and for shared, intergenerational memory of race and identity, being able to find the words for his experiences is crucial. I think that Wright’s and Baldwin’s differing approaches to how they talk about fear, anger, and masculinity, for example, reflect both the silences that remain in their lives and the silences they seek to break.  

As we move into some of Baldwin’s novels, I am interested to see how or if he will continue to engage individual and collective memory in his writing. I’m curious if others have noticed the role of the past in these texts, and whether you think that literature can help break the silences of American history in a meaningful way. 

In the past few weeks, we as a class have been talking at length about the significance of Bigger’s presence and narrative in American literature and society. We talked about him being a product of society, and suggested that everything that makes Bigger “monstrous” is a result of the inescapable oppression which he faces in his daily life. It wasn’t until I read Baldwin’s essay “Many Thousands Gone” that I understood why Wright’s depiction of Bigger did not fully resonate with me and with this particular story. 

In my opinion, I align with Baldwin’s stance that details Wright’s descriptions of Bigger as “dehumanizing.” Bigger embodies the rage, the pain, the confusion, and the despair that Black individuals feel living in America, but in trying to emulate all of these emotions within Bigger, Wright reduces Bigger to a vessel of representation for everyone’s emotions and motivations but his own. “Bigger has no discernible relationship to himself, to his own life, to his own people, nor to any other people — in this respect, perhaps, he is most American — and his force comes, not from his significance as a social (or anti-social) unit, but from his significance as the incarnation of a myth.” Baldwin states this problem clearly — when a writer reduces a Black character into something that is purely made up of other people’s assumptions in these “protest novels,” it leads us all to “believe that in Negro life there exists no tradition” since they lack intrinsic individuality and are only able to feel emotions and think thoughts that have been imposed upon them. 

In framing Bigger’s life around the constructs and myths perpetuated by society, Baldwin writes that the nature of these protest novels “reject life,” since the driving force behind these narratives are caught in cycles of rage and oppression. “Within this web of lust and fury, black and white can only thrust and counter-thrust, long for each other’s slow, exquisite death… Thus has the cage betrayed us all.”

In the novel, “Native Son”, Richard Wright uses distinct vocabulary to narrate the murder of Bessie. In this scene, Bigger repeatedly strikes Bessie in the head with a brick until “… he seemed to be striking a wet wad of cotton, of some damp substance…” (Wright 237). My first time reading this, I assumed that Wright’s word choice was for imagery purposes. However, after the class presentation on Wednesday, I believe there is a separate motive. The use of the word “cotton” is intentionally used along with the use of the phrase “damp substance” to distance Bessie from humanity. Wright could have used human characteristics to describe her murder, but instead he uses commodities. She is seen as an object to be purchased and used for men’s desires. 

Even during the trial, Bessie’s body is used for evidence towards Mary’s murder and to prove the inhumane characteristics of Bigger Thomas. There is no respect for Bessie as a human being.  At one point, Bigger wishes to put vulnerable Bessie in his chest “… just to know that she was his to have and hold whenever he wanted to” (Wright 140). She is seen as an object for Biggers consumption.

In “Many Thousands Gone” Baldwin writes, “… no American Negro exists who does not have his private Bigger Thomas living in his skull” (Baldwin 32). In other words, no black American male exists who does not battle with anger, fear, and hatred in his mind. At the time of her death, Bessie also expresses her internal anger, fear, and hatred toward Bigger and her own life (Wright 229-230). It seems that Bigger and Bessie are more similar than Wright and Baldwin give credit for. Wright and Baldwin act like women are tools that are invulnerable to the emotions that characterize Bigger. They imply that women are subhuman and do not go through the same struggles men do although they are in the same environments.. “Native Son” does not represent a black struggle, but a male struggle. 

Baldwin, as much as he is fighting against the depictions of race and masculinity in Native Son, is equally as concerned with their respective intersections of sexuality and spirituality.

Baldwin grew up as Bigger: “cold or black or hungry,” yet unlike Bigger has not “accepted a theology that denies him life” (Collected Essays 18). Despite the intersecting components of his identity (queer, black, expatriate, activist) facing extreme ridicule and shame, Baldwin advocates existing beyond these measures of diagnosed evil; he is not “sub-human” nor will “battle for his humanity according to those brutal criteria bequethed him at his birth” (Collected Essays 18). This is a radical act of self-love, one that confronts the reductive binarisms of popular culture and Christian morality. I’m very intrigued by this autonomy, as I believe it is evident in every one of his works, both fiction and criticism.

Baldwin is being told by various institutions (including the church) that his body and its varying components are sinful, vile, and ugly. He is expected to morph into expectations of blackness and sexuality, and if he can’t, accept his lack of humanity in an exhibition of self-loathing. He stakes a claim in his writing, for the complexity and subjectivity of the individual, rejecting the tormenting treatment of the black body in society. This becomes an act of personal salvation, as much as it is an act of rebellion. ‘The recognition of this complexity,’ he says, ‘is the signal of maturity; it marks the death of the child and the birth of the man” (Everybody’s Protest Novel).

I also suggest that this notion must be held if we are to assess and understand Baldwin’s work. Not only must we appreciate Baldwin as an amalgam of identities, but his writing as an act of self-assertion in the face of racism, homophobia, and condemnation.

After the wonderful presentation this week, I began to think more deeply about Afro-Pessimism, especially in the context of Baldwin. Afro-Pessimism argues that black people are ontologically dead because of the ongoing effects of racism, slavery, and colonialism. In other words, there is a different and permanent existence for Black Americans. While reading Baldwin, though, I noticed a different attitude that pushes back against this idea. 

In “Notes of a Native Son” Baldwin describes going to a restaurant in New Jersey and being turned away by a waitress, who nervously told him they did not serve negroes. Baldwin, out of anger, threw a watermug at her. It missed and shattered. After the incident, he realized clearly that he could have been murdered by the white restaurant goers. He also realized how easily he was ready to murder. His reflection turned introspective: “My life, my real life, was in danger, and not from anything other people might do but from the hatred I carried in my own heart” (CE 72). Baldwin makes a distinction between his bodily life and his real life. He is worried that his internal humanity is at risk because of the hatred he harbors. This does not seem to fit in with a traditional Afro-Pessimist view. Baldwin believes that an internal choice to free yourself from hatred gives you a sort of liberty in your real life. This idea of self-constitution, at least in one sense, denies a fact of Afro-Pessimism, which situates the black experience in a permanent ontological category.

The recognition that relieving yourself of hatred leads to a more real life also seems to imply that one has more control over their existence. Baldwin writes later that, “In order really to hate white people one has to blot so much out of the mind—and the heart—that this hatred itself becomes an exhausting and destructive pose” (CE 82-83). By describing this hatred as a pose, Baldwin implies that it is something malleable. There is a sense of hope that Black Americans can free themselves of the hatred in their own hearts as a step towards realizing themselves fully. Baldwin makes sure to say that this erasure of hatred is not an excuse for white Americans to continue their mistreatment. Rather, it is a reclamation of dignity and a step towards a world with greater humanity. It is, unlike Afro-Pessimism, more hopeful.

We have spent considerable time over the past few weeks discussing sexual assault in Native Son and rightfully so; the sexual assault in the novel overshadows some of the claims Wright attempts to make about race in America. Yet, while this discussion is important, we have not spent as much time discussing the effects of racialized sexual assault throughout history on the Black family. At the beginning of Native Son, Wright describes the Thomas family as they dress for the day, saying, “The two boys kept their faces averted while their mother and sister put on enough clothes to keep them from feeling ashamed; and the mother and sister did the same while the boys dressed” (Wright, 4). The Black body elicits shame within the family, seemingly tearing the bonds between its members apart. The Black female body, victimized by rape especially in the antebellum South, and the Black male body, oversexualized and marked by castration, become shameful even on a familial level. Bigger’s relationship to his family is marked by shame, from the opening scenes in the Thomas home to their visitation in his cell toward the end of the novel. Interestingly, Baldwin’s description of Native Sonas an opposite extreme to Uncle Tom’s Cabin (through the main characters, Bigger and Uncle Tom) holds for this example; Uncle Tom’s Cabin attempts to reveal the immorality of slavery due to physical breaking of familial bonds in the slave trade whereas Native Son showcases these frayed bonds without the physical separation.

Though the Thomas family dynamics remain in the background of the text, it is hard to imagine that Bigger’s familial upbringing does not impact his decision-making. However, to Wright’s ultimate point, that familial upbringing was likely impacted by an oppressive society that crushed Bigger’s parents as much as it crushes him. Though I ultimately am not quite sure what to make of the family dynamics in Native Son other than seeing the remnants of slavery in the shame of the Black body, I think this will be an important theme to track over the course of the semester. Considering that Baldwin was raised by a stepfather who hated him and trampled on his aspirations, I will be interested to see whether his background is reflected onto the family dynamics of his characters or if he attempts to make a claim about the Black family through his fiction writing.