A Dream Is Deferred

Author(s):  
Jill D. Snider

This chapter addresses the political and economic factors that thwarted Headen’s first attempts to follow his ambitions. It discusses his work as a Pullman porter in 1900-1901, and later as a student from 1901-1903 at Albion Academy, an advanced boarding school in Franklinton, NC, founded by the Presbyterian Church. Describing the faculty and student life at Albion, and Headen’s personal record there, it probes how Albion helped Headen navigate the rising violence and segregation of the Jim Crow era and keep his ambitions alive. The chapter also discusses Headen’s marriage in 1903 and his decision to become part of African American migration out of the South that same year.

Author(s):  
James Smethurst ◽  
Jay Watson

For the most part, when the topic of Faulkner and African American literature is discussed, the intellectual conversation is primarily concerned with the undeniable influence of Faulkner’s fiction on black novelists. However, this chapter focuses on the major impact of the African American migration novel in the early Jim Crow era on Faulkner’s work, particularly Light in August and Absolom, Absolom! While the peripatetic, rootless, and often mixed-race characters of such novels by black authors as Pauline Hopkins’s Contending Forces, Paul Laurence Dunbar’s The Sport of the Gods, James Weldon Johnson’s The Autobiography of an Ex-Colored Man, Jean Toomer’s Cane, and Nella Larsen’s Quicksand informs the creation of the protagonists/speakers of much modernist U.S. fiction and poetry; it is in Faulkner’s work, with possible exception of Gertrude Stein’s “Melanctha,” that one sees the clearest adaptation of the characters and cultural geography of the early black migration narrative.


2020 ◽  
pp. 68-102
Author(s):  
Lindsay V. Reckson

This chapter examines the ecstatic performances haunting Stephen Crane’s 1895 narrative of the Civil War, The Red Badge of Courage. While much has been made of the way the novel strategically “forgets” the political history of the war, this chapter analyzes the novel’s complex overlay of religious enthusiasm and minstrel performance, exploring how Red Badge deploys these forms in order to grapple with the embodied semiotics of the Jim Crow era. Recovering traces of the midcentury minstrel figure “Dandy Jim of Caroline” in Jim Conklin’s exuberant death scene, the chapter argues that the narrative afterlife of such traces reveals the novel’s tendency to simultaneously erase and embed the excesses of war and postwar racial violence. Marking the historical resonance between minstrelsy and religious enthusiasm in their objectification of the moving body, Red Badge’s performances treat bodies as kinetic archives, whose stylized gestures offer stunning testimony to history’s traumatic returns. In this sense, the novel treats the ambivalence of performance as precisely the arena in which literature might grapple with history’s unaccountable remainders.


Author(s):  
Kathryn H. Fuller-Seeley

African-American dancer, singer, comedian Eddie Anderson pursued an entertainment career in California, his opportunities limited by Jim Crow-era racism in Hollywood but also shaped opportunities in night clubs and cabarets that catered to both black and white patrons. Winning an audition for a one-time role on Benny’s radio show, Anderson’s inimitable gravelly voice spurred Benny to create a full time part, the character of Rochester Van Jones, Jack’s butler and valet, in late 1937. Although initially hampered by stereotyped minstrel-show dialogue and character habits, Rochester soon became renowned by both white and black listeners for his ability to criticize the “Boss” in impertinent manner. Virtually co-starred in three films with Benny that were highly successful at the box office, commenters in the black press in 1940 hoped that Rochester offered “a new day” in improved race relations.


2019 ◽  
Vol 124 (5) ◽  
pp. 1732-1748
Author(s):  
Drew Swanson

Abstract In the 1970s, American historical sites began to more thoroughly and critically interpret slavery’s history, with a few institutions employing living history as an interpretive form. At sites like Virginia’s Mount Vernon and Colonial Williamsburg, the hope is that these historical “impressions” will engage audiences with a more authentic or credible representation of racial bondage. An earlier wave of living historical representations of slavery suggest the challenges and hazards of embodied history, however. In the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, a significant number of southern sites employed African American interpreters who claimed to have been born into slavery, often on the very sites where they were currently working. Historical attractions used the “authenticity” and “credibility” of these interpreters to advance the narrative of a happy Old South. Historians have noted these performances as part of the sectional reconciliation of the Jim Crow era, but have rarely interpreted them as public history. Although the contemporary living history of slavery has different—and far better—goals than impressions of a century past, this long history of embodied bondage suggests the implicit dangers of interpreting slavery and race through living people.


Author(s):  
Claire Raymond

Southern poetry embraces dichotomous elements: it contains poems lauding the Confederacy, and also poems deeply critical and mournful of the racist violence, oppression, and racist terrorism that characterize the region’s history. Yet a common thread runs through Southern poetry—attention to the land, the rural South as a character in its own right, and with that attention to the land a quality of haunting and being haunted by the history of the South: the violence of colonization, enslavement, the Civil War, Reconstruction, Jim Crow. Twentieth-century poet Etheridge Knight, born in Mississippi, lyrically describes the earth of Mississippi merging with the graves of his ancestors, calling him home to a place where, as a black man, he is not safe. Nineteenth-century poet Sidney Lanier, born in Georgia and, like Knight, a man who had experienced imprisonment, shapes in his poetry a mythical country where trees and rivers and indigenous crops become forces superseding the human; but Lanier, a soldier for the Confederacy, does not mention enslavement in his poetry. In Southern poetry, this blind spot—the white Southern poet who does not see or reflect upon the racist violence of enslavement, Jim Crow, lynching—is often submerged into a poetry melancholic and obsessed with unnamable violence and loss, even as African American poets of the South often name this loss in terms of personal memory. Myth—of the aristocratic, agrarian South—in white Southern poetry, and memory—of personal risk and suffering—in African American Southern poetry, can be understood together as a common pull to write the land, albeit from different perspectives.


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