(This post focuses on one of the many issues raised in Baldwin’s classic book The Fire Next Time. I tried my best to say something worthwhile, but I’m afraid that I may have indulged in the practice of “saying nothing in a profound manner”.)
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Some reassuring voice in my head tells me that I’m not prejudiced, that I come from a place of tolerance and peaceful coexistence with everyone. I was schooled in the liberal arts and wrote an A- essay on the concept of Double Consciousness. Some of my best friends in life have been African American. I can safely say that I get a pass on the seemingly perpetual marginalization of an oppressed people, right?
Wrong…
I have read W. E. B. Du Bois, Zora Neale Hurston, Ralph Ellison, and Ta-Nehisi Coates, as well as James Baldwin. I’m pretty much an expert on the plight of the black man and woman in a predominantly Anglocentric America. One of my favorite albums of all time is Illmatic. I adore hip-hop and grew up listening, mimicking, and for a short time acting like I was a part of the culture, albeit my favorite group growing up was the Beastie Boys. And recently, not coincidentally, my favorite movie was Get Out directed by Jordan Peele. Also, the best TV show I have seen in the past year or so has to be Atlanta, a comedic look at the diverse culture and economy of rap, directed, written, and starring the extremely talented Donald Glover. All of these honest to god artistic affiliations somehow make me less prejudiced, right?
Again, wrong…
Now, even though my tone is facetious, and all of these artistic connections with black culture in my life are 100% true, I don’t seriously profess to truly know what it’s like to be an African American. I’m not an expert on the plight of African Americans. I don’t get a pass just because I grew up with black friends (half-black mostly) who partially introduced me to their culture. I believe the cylinders of my unconscious still fire at half-speed and keep me a large distance away mentally, in a socio-cultural context and in daily life. I have a deep respect for African Americans, but lack a very obvious and robust empathic understanding of their cultural suppression. And very recently my eyes were pried opened to this fact; it made me very attentive to this issue. And more so, James Baldwin reinvigorated this issue with this book.
It seems that all of the aforementioned “proof” of my anti-racial personality are all just examples of a subtle Negrophilia, manifested as “tolerance from a distance”, ungrounded in actual understanding, but nevertheless still a celebration of the black culture I look at from afar. I haven’t been “down the line” as James Baldwin calls it (42). I have a deep appreciation for Jazz and the Blues, but I don’t really feel the “sensuality” of the music, I don’t understand how to “renew myself on the fountains of my own life” (43). And how would I exactly? Coming from a privileged, white, middle class family, it’s hard to feel the sensuality, “ironic tenacity”, and uncertainty of the daily events depicted in the black music of Baldwin’s heyday. And dare I say, I can’t exactly identify with it personally. So I sit back on the fringes, collect artifacts of black culture and appreciate them from a distance, while the true context intrinsic to the art is lost on me, and will always be truly unknown to me: the solidarity and cultural significance that inspired the art to begin with will continue to be elusive.
Now, this isn’t a self-hating, white-bashing diatribe meant to completely belittle my own position or efforts, it’s only meant to function as a tell-tale critique of my own imperfect ability to analyze an ethnicity that I will ultimately never truly understand. In short, my claim is that a self-professed ignorance towards this picture as a less dangerous position than its opposite. That is, to tout absolutes and an understanding of black culture just because you have been “a fan” of it, or feel like you understand it better than the majority because of your honest efforts, is extremely dangerous. And therein lies a paradox: when does an effort to understand and establish a unity or harmony through mutual understanding actually become harmful instead of positive? I’m not exactly sure.
It certainly does seem counterproductive to get complacent with mere Negrophiliac appreciation instead of an open-eyed analysis of what can be done to ease racial inequality and skewed perceptions. But an appreciation for African Americans in music, film, art, writing, etc. seems to be better than not having appreciation for those aspects of culture. Right? Maybe I made a false equivalency somewhere. But can’t there be both? I think that appreciating black culture, making an honest effort to bridge differences, but not touting absolute understanding is a productive recipe for increasing interracial unity.
Baldwin says, in the letter to his Nephew, that keeping identities separate is extremely important, as a way of preserving cultural heritage and the solidarity of a race (my interpretation of what he said, perhaps I’m wrong). So, moving closer to unity and harmony could be best approached by never acting or assuming your efforts to understand will be good enough; leave well enough alone and have understanding in the differences, but make an honest effort to celebrate the culture without making assumptions that you really “know” what you are talking about–unless you are apart of the group in question. He also reminds his nephew to never try to become like a white person (8). To flip this advice to the white person, I think it’s only insulting to assume that because you are white, and an aficionado of black culture, that you are somehow closer to African Americans as a result. The major point is to understand the differences, makes sure the black man and woman are no longer the “fixed star” and “immovable pillar” of our Anglocentric constructions, and to provide equal opportunity and thought for the differences and uniqueness of each ethnic group (9)
Now, take all of this with a grain of salt. I read this book and wrote a review a couple days later without taking as much time as I could have to digest and truly work through my argument.
My rating: 4.5 out of 5. A concise look into many issues of race with Baldwin’s signature grace and ease of communication. It was a page turner for me, that also managed to tackle concepts of history, race, religion, economics, art, and just about everything else that we encounter through life.
Bibliotropism 