classic, graphic, alice

My first response to this was NO! The short story “Carnival Jangle” by Alice Dunbar-Nelson is probably my favorite by the dynamic, Post ‘Bellum-PreHarlem writer. It tells the story of a young Flo, who is lured away by the mysterious and beguiling Mephisto during carnival to masquerade-as a boy. I was concerned that the parameters of graphic novels would diminish the significance of her message; would cause her work to be taken even less seriously. (Was afraid of that when Charles Johnson’s Middle Passage was to be transformed into a graphic novel for D.C. Comics, too…whatever happened with that?) Indeed, I am not a graphic novel fan. But once I collected myself and recalled the story, I decided that instead,  I applaud Lance Tooks for the cultural decendence of such an eloquent, yet neglected black, fiction icon. The backdrop for the story, Mardi Gras, does indeed provide the visual setting that might lend itself to such a transformation. So I will wait, with bated breath, its publication in December, 2012.

elizabeth johnson harris

from the Special Collections Library at Duke University,

Elizabeth Johnson Harris  Life Story, 1867-1923:

“Rev. Moody was a fine gospel preacher and large crowds of white and colored were out each night to hear the splendid sermons and the beautiful singing by his choir of only two members, Rev. Moody was perfectly free and friendly as a man of God, with both white and colored. He extended a free invitation to one and all, to these services. The audience was sometimes mixed, the crowds were great and the Holy Spirit seemed to be in such control over the house that the color of skin was almost forgotten for the time being.”

…almost.

utopia: fictions of homogeneity?

News from Nowhere by William Morris

When Sir Thomas More coined the word “utopia” for his 1516 book of the same name to represent a perfect idea of Plato’s Republic, where there are few laws, no wars and people live in perfect harmony and peace, what kind of place was this really? It is, supposedly, a place where evil no longer dwells, a place where misery and poverty are a thing of the past. Some 19th century Victorians caught hold of this idea and ascribed it to Karl Marx’s blueprint of a working socialist nation. Indeed, William Morris, a socialist, writer and Pre-Raphaelite, created his own utopia in the novel New from Nowhere (1890); except there is a noticeable lack of diversity. To paraphrase the thoughts of Buggin’ Out from Spike Lee’s Do The Right Thing:

“How come ain’t no black people in Morris’s utopia?”

Morris suggests the one time existence of such people in the novel which laments the 19^th century as one of the last eras run amuck with capitalism and rich people infected with the disease of “Idleness” as a result of forcing others to work for them. And, while he often hints at the binaries of “slaves” and “slave owners”, other than speaking of them in the socialist terms of “workers” and the “ruling class,” he never addresses who these workers are, what they look or sound like, or what their plight is. He never discusses them on any personal level. And, even when the old man Hammond begins to discuss imperialism and the antics of Henry Morton Stanley, he is interrupted by the narrator, much to his chagrin, and to mine.

It’s like when the 1992 movie Boomerang, starring Eddie Murphy, came out. Sure we loved seeing beautiful black folks on the big screen; Eddie, Halle Berry, Lela Rochon, Grace Jones, Geoffrey Holder, etc. But, there was also a noticeable lack of white people—in New York! Come on, now. Even black folks knew that wasn’t right.

So, was the utopia that Victorians wrote about a world where everybody was British—and white? Is it as H.G. Wells suggests in A Modern Utopia (1905) that “The depopulation of the Congo Free State by the Belgians, the horrible massacres of Chinese by European soldiery during the Pekin expedition” …simply…”a painful but necessary part of the civilising process of the world”? I certainly hope not. If so, not only would Morris be disappointed in the fact that London is yet a thriving capitalist society, but he’d likely be disoriented by the level of its diversity as well.

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st. louis circuit court historical records project

“The St. Louis Circuit Court retains millions of records that document the judicial, social, cultural, and economic history of the city, county, state, and nation.”

Freedom Suits Case Files, 1814-1860

“These case files consist of 301 legal petitions for freedom by people of color originally filed in St. Louis courts between 1814 and 1860. They make up the largest corpus of freedom suits currently available to researchers in the United States.”

pauline hopkins society

“The great artist belongs to God, and is imperishable. Like Moses, he stands upon the mount and receives the eternal laws of art. He forgets his inner life, joy and sorrow disappear; he ascends on the wings of the beloved art, and brushing the gates of Paradise translates into his earthly work some of the entrancing melody of the heavenly choirs.”

Pauline Hopkins, “Phenomenal Vocalists,” Colored American Magazine, November 1901.

being the poet laureate of the negro race

More often than not I’ve been privy to conversations among writers and would be writers about whether we consider, or perhaps, to what extent we consider audience when we write. We are—writers that is—sometimes arrogant enough to believe that our audiences are literary replicas of ourselves and that we truly are writing to please only them; that we are not influenced by publishers or the market and what people are buying, and whether or not our monetary rewards reflect their approval—or disapproval. I think about this whenever I am tempted to self-publish a saucy, urban drama, (not that there’s anything wrong with that), which I’m certain will be a hit, and which will no doubt solve all of my financial, (student loan) woes. For a while now, I’ve felt that this would be an easy avenue to being published, seeing as how publishers seem to believe that this is the only fiction by African American writers worth publishing; that African Americans don’t read more “serious” literature, or that white readers don’t read African American literature.

But, once again, I have learned a lesson from 19^th century black authors who struggled through their art. In the book, Lyrics of Sunshine and Shadow,  Eleanor Alexander  recounts what she calls the “tragic courtship and marriage” between the Poet Laureate of the Negro Race, Paul Laurence Dunbar, and my thesis subject, Alice Ruth Moore. In recalling his early years as a writer, Dunbar had a hard time reconciling his success as a celebrated high school writer with the disappointments he faced once in the real world. Even the newspaper that published his first poems wouldn’t hire him as a staff journalist—because he was black. But, ironically, once he began writing dialect poetry, and using the style of writing employed by the popular “Hoosier dialect poet” James Whitcomb Riley, his luck changed. Though Dunbar, (as well as Charles W. Chestnutt), remained conflicted about writing stories and poetry which depicted African Americans as “childish buffoons…loyal to their ‘masters,’ the old plantation, and the southern way of life”…and black men who might also be “rapists, slashers, thieves, and murderers,” he also realized that his audience, largely white middle class readers, demanded this of their negro characters. One poem, “A Banjo Song,” where a slave family forgets their troubles just by listening to the music of a banjo, brought him half of what he was making in a week as an elevator boy, from the Chicago News Record.

So what do you think he did?

Humph. He kept writing those dialect poems.

Even in his first two collections of poetry, Oak and Ivy and Majors and Minors, where he includes half poetry in dialect, and half poetry in standard English, the dialect poetry was still the most popular. Even the “foremost literary critic of American letters,” William Dean Howells, said so. His friend, author James Weldon Johnson commented that, although Dunbar tried to “cut away much that was coarse and ‘niggerish,’” his work was still an example of the “traditional mold”…and that “no matter how sincere he might be, was dominated by his audience”.

Now, when I consider my deep, sincere desire to be a published author, I will always think of the Poet Laureate of the Negro Race— and my steady gig with the US government.

researching alice dunbar-nelson (1875-1935)

I find it interesting (and, admittedly a little annoying), that most biographies about Alice Ruth Moore Dunbar-Nelson are often prefaced with an acknowledgment or statement of her “mixed” racial heritage. (Her so-called “lesbian feelings,” and her brief marriage to poet, Paul Laurence Dunbar are almost, always included.) That some chose to question her “blackness” may or may not have to do with her unique portrayal of “a” black experience. It was a black experience that was different from what was being represented in her time; that of passive, illiterate, Southern plantation darkies who were loyal to their white masters. Her early stories were a portrayal of the racially diverse and cosmopolitan landscape that was New Orleans in the 19^th century, of French speaking black folks, and women who questioned the sanctity of marriage. For me, this does not diminish her blackness—or her femininity—in any way. Even Gloria T. Hull enthusiastically reminds us that, “Despite” her “New Orleans heritage of mixed blood and light skin, it is necessary to remember that” Dunbar-Nelson’s “position in America was always that of a colored/Negro/black person” (Color, Sex, & Poetry 52). Dunbar-Nelson had no reservations about this, and demonstrated it in her associations, her activities in numerous uplift organizations—and in her writing. I celebrate and lift her up for her courage, her independence and boldness, and I am excited for the opportunity to enter into her world.

becoming professor

Sometimes as children, as students, we imagine that our teachers have always, from the beginning of time, been teachers. But, I am learning that teachers, like everyone else, evolve. As a second year graduate student, with the help of a course on Pedagogy, I am evolving. I am attempting to create an identity that will hopefully assist others in learning.

To create a teacher identity for ourselves, I think we should begin by remembering the teacher who most impressed (or impresses) us as a student, and emulate them to some extent. Then, we should formulate an identity that is a practical and honest representation of who we are combined with a straightforward presentation of the material. I think students look for honesty and unpretentiousness in teachers; someone who does not portray themselves as though they are more sophisticated or more elite than those she proposes to teach. I think we must humble ourselves, and perhaps, render ourselves worthy of the opportunity to impart what we know, or what we ourselves have learned. I think we must also respect those we intend to teach; respect that they, too, are a human being capable of being taught— capable of learning. Moreover, I think we should respect that they may come to us with their own body of knowledge, their own experiences, that we should value.

For me, I think it is important to represent myself as someone who did not always have the knowledge that I do. Even on a collegiate level, I think students are sometimes awed by the amount of information a teacher conveys, and it’s sometimes easy to forget that the instructor had to start somewhere; that they’ve acquired knowledge and practiced their craft sometimes for many years. Even more, I think it’s important for students to be able to see their teacher as someone who studied, worked hard, for the knowledge they have—and, that if they, the student, work hard, they too, can achieve the same things for themselves.

when horatio was a queen

Perhaps it may be true that our celebrities are more interesting when they have some quirk, some sordid past or some skeleton in their closet that reeks of scandal. I confess. The part of the introduction by Carl Bode that alluded to Horatio Alger, Jr’s. possible secret life as a homosexual, a pedophile even, made me all the more enthusiastic about reading Ragged Dick; imaginably Algers’ most popular novel published in 1868, his target audience being young boys. Oh, the numerous little pieces of bright green post-its marking the places where “gay” seems to leap from the pages, and where I counted the word queer no less than three times.

So, I must say how deflated I was when a colleague pointed out the confession of one Herbert Mayes, former editor of Good Housekeeping magazine. Mayes concocted an early biography of Alger called, Alger: A Biography Without a Hero (1928), and it turns out that he embellishedhis story to include the bit about Alger being dismissed from a Unitarian congregation for his “abominable and revolting crime of unnatural familiarity with boys.” How do we know about Mayes’ brazen prevarication? Ironically, he admits to as much in an introduction to another biography by  Gary Scharnhorst called, Horatio Alger Jr.: An Annotated Bibliography of Comment and Criticism.

Alas, there was no scandals; no deathbed confessions and such. Some say Mayes’ biography boosted Alger’s literature back into the spotlight; that perhaps I would not even be reading him were it not for the stories about his “abominable and revolting crime of unnatural familiarity with boys.”  Would I have as many little pieces of paper sticking out from the edges of my copy had I not began by reading the introduction? It is true, dear reader, that I found Ragged Dick more fun to read when Horatio was a queen.

reconsidering booker t. washington

Washington, 1894. (AP Photo/Library of Congress)

When considering the authors of American Realism, the names most often recognized and most often anthologized are  Henry James, William Dean Howells, Kate Chopin and perhaps, Edith Wharton. Never have I associated Up From Slavery by Booker T. Washington with any genre other than that of slave narrative; although his is an autobiography that does indeed focus on the mudane circumstances of  a life with its beginnings in slavery, and at no time does he idealize his existence.  

I am always conflicted though when reading his story, for there are times when he seems almost literally grateful for having been a slave. I have to remember that I sit in a rather sometimes awkward position of comfort by comparison, and would not dare to juxtapose my life to his. As Ishmael Reed reminds us in the introduction to the Signet Classic edition: “Rather than being viewed as an “Uncle Tom,” a “Coward” and an :Accommodationist” …Washington should be judged as someone who, despite his shortcomings, rose from humble circumstances to the building of one of the world’s centers of learning, literally with his bare hands, and training thousands of African-Americans in matters of both the hands and the head.”

I do, however, always walk away harboring a deep reverence for Mr. Washington, and a renewed determination to achieve my goals at most any cost.