A Barrel Full of Laughs, A Life of Sorrow

Darktown Strutters, written by Wesley Brown gives an idea of the way things were for slaves  including the infamous laughing barrel. I wrote this review shortly after the book came out in 2001. If you haven't read the book, I highly recommend it. What follows is an update of that my review.

According to some Negro folk tales, at one time, slaves were not permitted to, laugh in public. Legend says that if slaves found something to be funny and there were white people around, they were to run to the nearest “laughing barrel” and wipe the smile off their face before they peered out. Many believe the practice was the genesis of the term “barrel of laughs”

Wesley Brown’s award-winning novel, "Darktown Strutters," gives a vivid description of the practice that implied there was a potential of insult to white people who may be in the presence of black folks laughing. The unspoken insinuation that blacks might possibly be 'snickering' at white people. Presumably, the unwritten Jim Crow law was enacted on Southern plantations that did not permit whites to be insulted by Negro laughter.

As a side note, Brown also explains the term Jim Crow derived from a minstrel song entitled “Jump Jim Crow.” The book also tells of the inhumanities suffered by slaves before, during and after the practice died out thanks to the Emancipation Proclamation, even though many of the laws continued well into the 1950’s.

As the story goes, during slavery times, blacks were not allowed to laugh on many plantations. When the urge to laugh became irrepressible, the slaves had a “laughing barrel” into which they would lean way down, place their head in the barrel and laugh; then go back to whatever it was they were doing.

Here one discovers that before and even after the American Civil War, there were such things as barrels placed around the streets of southern cities or the pathways of plantations for black people to stick their heads into should they get the urge to laugh in public. It seems that local white people didn’t want to hear their laughter, lest they gain the sense that it might be aimed at them.

Author and poet Maya Angelou, in her book “Discovering Family Roots in Slavery,” writes about how on many plantations slaves were not allowed to laugh. There was a rule against it. So, when the urge to laugh became uncontrollable when the urge to laugh became irrepressible, they had what they called “the laughter barrel.” At the moment when they couldn’t hold it in any longer, they would, under the pretext of getting something out of the barrel, lean way down inside and let it all out. They would laugh and laugh and laugh, then wipe the smile off their face and go back to what they were doing.

“Many churches had ‘shouting barrels’ into which overjoyed slaves would place their heads in order not to disturb the church services,” Daniel Lane and Roy Cunningham write in their book, “Notable Blacks of the Pee Dee Section of South Carolina.”

There is little hard evidence to prove the stories other than those passed along in the oral tradition of the familiar slave narrative. A book titled, “Mother Wit from the Laughing Barrel," edited by Alan Dundes speaks of “laughing barrels, at least, eight times. Although the book is a compilation of slave lore, legend and folk tales, there is some reason to believe the stories were true. Many believe the tale is not founded in truth, but considering the times, along with the way slaves were treated, it is not hard to imagine such a course of action.

Making slaves laugh in a barrel isn’t as far-fetched as one might think. As ridiculous as the practice seems, there were others rules that were just as silly and many of them were dangerous. In the Deep South, blacks had to either cross the street or get off the sidewalk to allow white pedestrians safe passage. Failure to do so could result in a beating or worse.

Clearing the sidewalk was just one of the many humiliations heaped upon slaves and later during the Jim Crow era. One such heinous and unwritten law included “reckless eyeballin,” which fell harshly upon any black man who had the nerve to look at a white woman. Emmet Till fell victim to such an unwritten law when he supposedly whistled at Carolyn Bryant, a white woman. Till was beaten, shot and dropped in the river, his body weighted with a fan blade tied around his neck with barbed wire.

Sadly, I actually had people in my family who talked of it and were afraid of talking too loudly or even laughing around white men even though they escaped the South and lived in Chicago. Emitt Till was killed while I was in Chicago. This is not ancient history. They had "laugh barrels" in the South for Negroes to stick their heads in because white men assumed blacks were laughing at them. It is difficult to put that kind of treatment behind you even though you know it is poisonous.

Personal experience with segregated movie theaters, swimming pools and restaurants were small insults but helped contribute to internal anger among Negroes. Although seemingly harmless, more virulent practices existed such as never addressing a white man by any other name unless prefixed with "sir." The same applied to white women, but they were to be called "mam." On the other hand, blacks were expected to answer to names like "boy or uncle," while women were called "gal" or "girl."

Writing in the Texas Monthly, in 1985, Gary Cartwright, delivered a story titled, “The Final Gun.” In the story, Cartwright writes, “There was a barrel in Saratoga called the laughing barrel, and blacks who felt themselves in danger of laughing were required to stick their heads in it.” Saratoga is located thirty-eight miles northwest of Beaumont, TX.

Whether or not “laughing barrels” existed or are just part of black folk lore probably makes no difference other than to add insult to the injury slaves faced regularly in the South. However, based on previous Jim Crow rules, more than likely “laughing barrels” existed, as it seemed that no humiliation was too low to be heaped upon black men and women.

Painting from the Winfred Rembert, Caint to Caint Collection, 2010

They Say A Drunk Speaks A Sober Mind—Mel Waiters

I was half in the bag when Tonya came in. As usual, she was dressed to the nines as usual. She was my friend girlfriend when it was necessary. In my business, there were functions that required my presence and showing up alone was considered extremely bad taste. So, Tonya was my friend girlfriend. When she slipped into her chair across from me, I was feeling no pain.

“It looks like you started without me,” she said and laughed lightly.

I looked through blurry eyes and imagined a princess had just come to tell me she needed rescuing. When my eyes finally focused, I said, “You’re a fine motherfucker. Wait, I’m sorry. I’m drunk and I’d never say anything like to you when I ain’t full of whiskey.”

“You’ve said worse things, Tonya said and laughed.

“I have?” I asked. You’re kidding, right?”

“No. You’ve asked me to do all kinds of things, but I’ve never been bothered because I know it’s not you. So, tell me who was it this time? Twila? Shanelle?”

Suddenly my mind was coming back into focus. It’s funny how you can will yourself out of a condition and that is exactly what happened. Of course, now I felt like shit, which only added to my anger with that bitch Shanelle breaking up with me by text message. I wanted to kick her ass, but since I couldn’t I drank myself into a trance.

Even though I was finally through the fog, something still nagged at my mind and it wasn’t a gentle subject. I’d been thinking about how to bring the subject up without being rude or unfeeling, but I finally decided that just coming out and saying it straight would be the best way. After all, we had been friends since childhood.

“What are you thinking," Tonya asked. I know that look on your face and it means that you have something on your mind. If you have something to say, just say it.”

“Straight out, here it is. We’ll probably lose friendship over this but I think you should know,” I said.

“Just say it,” Tonya said.

“Lately, I’ve been smelling your ass,” I said.

“What are you talking about?” she asked.

“I mean I can smell all of your feminine parts. Your ass and pussy, I can smell them,” I said.

I could see the anger in her eyes and her facial muscles clench. The muscle running along her jawbone was tight and her eyes squinted. She started to get up and then sat back down in her chair. She stared at me hard as if she was trying to stab or shoot me.

“How can you hurt me like this,” she asked.

“I’ve been thinking it over for the past two months when I first noticed it, I said. “I thought I imagined it, but it was real. Then I thought that if it were me that I’d like a friend to pull me over and tell me before I became a topic of conversation for the local haters. Maybe this liquor has loosened my tongue enough to say what a real friend would have said right away,” I said.

She there looking at me with a look that I couldn’t read. Resting her chin on her crossed hands, she turned her head back and forth looking from one side of the room to the other. At one point, she swallowed her bourbon and continued to ruminate. While she sat in silence, I motioned for the waiter to bring another bourbon for her. She did the same thing before she finally spoke and simply said to me, “thank you.”

I don’t remember was when we left “Dark Eyes,” but the taxi driver had to pour us into the backseat. He had to ask three times for our addresses. When we parted, she kissed me on my cheek and said, “See you at the next party.”

BROWN IS THE NEW WHITE: BOOK REVIEW

Brown Is The New White: How the Demographic Revolution Has Created a New American Majority is an important book. The book's author, Steve Phillips, gets right to the point by showing how diverse groups in America are now the new majority. He puts the 2040 date  for brown people to account the majority of the population as useless. Instead, Phillips shows how that day is already here.

The author points out that the percentage of people of color in the American has tripled creating the conditions for a new majority.  Tied together with the number of progressive whites, this group has the power to elect presidents. Rightly so, Phillips points out how the current liberal stance tends to see people of color and progressives as problems they don't want to discuss.

Phillips lays it on the line when he says,

"What these leaders have failed to appreciate and understand is the essential interplay between multiracial movement for social justice and the nation's public  policy process.There would have been no Voting Rights Act or Immigration and Nationality Act of 1965 without marches, protests, bloodshed, and sacrifices that took place in the streets of Selma, Alabama earlier that year."

The book is insightful and offers serious numbers to consider that could make controlling elections for the foreseeable future. For those looking for empirical evidence, Phillps offers it in the form of data taken from PEW, Zogby and more. The data shows voting patterns over many states where anywhere from 200,000 to 400,000 votes would have made the difference in who won the race in gubernatorial, state offices and even county races.

By the book's end it is clear how the New Majority is already here, but to make it all happen, voting must be taken seriously. 

Skin Politics: Danger and Controversy

Do You Know These People?

Years ago, a strange saying circulated throughout the black community illustrating the skin politics that lingers from slavery. "If you're white you're all right. If you're brown stick around, but if you're black stay back." It may surprise some, but the doggerel poetry originated in the black community long ago and reflects the unsubtle preoccupation with skin color among African Americans. 

History

Although skin color among Africa slaves was predominately dark brown to nearly black, concern about color came about as a direct result of miscegenation. Although the term is commonly associated with African slavery in the United States, it came about much sooner than the kidnapping of blacks from Africa as the first blacks arrived in 1619 as indentured servants. Black and white indentured servants worked for a specific number of years and were then freed. The lives of black and white indentured servants were similar at this time. They worked side by side; they lived together in the same dwellings and fraternized after their labors. They also married and had children together.[1]

According to the Merriam-Webster dictionary, miscegenation is defined as a mixture of races; especially: marriage, cohabitation or sexual intercourse between a white person and a member of another race. During slavery, miscegenation between white and blacks was strictly prohibited. Although forbidden, instances of sexual intercourse between white and black occurred and usually without black female consent.

In the United States, whites saw themselves as superior and all others as subordinate or inferior. This practice was termed hypodescent. During American slavery, the word meant the automatic assignment of children of a white and union between members of different ethnic groups to subordinate status. Progeny of these usually forced incidents became mulattos. However, as the children of forbidden relations matured there was intermarriage between mulattos producing quadroons (a person of one-quarter African ancestry and a Caucasian parent). Octoroon meant a person with one-eighth African ancestry and one white parent.

Perceptions and Reality

Focus on skin color came early during slavery as mixed children of slave owners received better consideration than slaves with pure African blood. The difference was not lost on unmixed slaves as the children of slave master often received hostile treatment from regular field hands. The politics of skin came early for African slaves. Many slaves were children of well-to-do white fathers and many were recognized and sponsored by their fathers. Once free, Negroes of lighter skin color came to dominate the free black community both in numbers and influence.

Because of the better treatment, former slaves often focused on marriage to a lighter skinned black in order to have a lighter child, which was seen as an asset in the black community as fair-skinned Negroes seemed to obtain better jobs and treatment. Even black sexuality did not escape the effects of skin politics as lighter skinned men and women tended to have their choice of marriageable partners. Whether it was the benefit of better jobs or prized romantic interests, skin color has long been an issue in the black community.

Skin Lighteners

Skin lightening or whitening creams have met with controversy in the black community where many claim that such products lead to confused identities and devaluations of traditional cultures. With portions of the black community “skin lightening” is considered to be brought about by a combination of self-hatred, European ideas of beauty and a desire to be accepted by greater society to create better opportunities. How much of this is true remains open to question, but the reality of skin bleaching is tangible and often produces unexpected results.

The skin lightening industry is a multi-million dollar industry, but the economic leads many to give legitimacy to the business of changing skin color, as most creams are a dangerous concoction of chemicals such as steroids, hydroquinone and tretinoin. The long-term use of these drug cocktails can lead to permanent pigmentation changes, skin cancer, liver damage, mercury poisoning and many others.

Yet, the formulations of these products are shrouded in mystery and awareness of their hazardous effects is low. Nearly 30 per cent of long-term users report adverse effects as most skin lightening creams contain mainly two chemicals, hydroquinone or mercury.[2] Mercury is poisonous and can cause permanent damage the nervous system. Mercury poisoning is still known today as 'Mad Hatter's disease as it used to be used in the making of hats. The chemical affected the nervous systems of hatters, causing them to tremble and appear insane. Toxic levels of mercury can also lead to kidney damage and may lead to psychiatric disorders. In addition, it can lead to severe birth defects. [3]

Other chemicals include topical steroids, which can hypertension, elevated blood sugar and suppression of the body’s natural steroids. The steroid corticosteroid used in some bleaching creams can result in Cushing's disease, a malfunction of the adrenal glands leading to an overproduction of cortisol. Other side effects include increased appetite and weight gain, deposits of fat in chest, face, upper back, and stomach, swelling, slowed healing of wounds, osteoporosis, cataracts, acne, muscle weakness, thinning of the skin and more. [4]

Consumers wrongly assumed that all ingredients were disclosed on labels. “There’s a basic assumption that there’s some truth in labeling,” said Dr. David McDaniel, a dermatologist in Virginia Beach and a director of the Skin of Color Research Institute at Hampton University (a historically black college). “That’s a false assumption for the skin-lightening market.”[5]

Skin lightning is not relegated to the African American community as countries as diverse as Senegal, India and the Philippines skin lightning is promoted as a way to elevate one’s social standing. India has a thriving fairness industry and fairness creams are reportedly the most popular in the unfettered skin care market. In 2003, Dr S. Allen Counter of Harvard Medical School reported that the high levels of mercury found in people, but particularly women, from Mexico, Saudi Arabia and in Tanzania in East Africa related to the use of skin lightening creams.[6] Allen also reported that 96% of over 300 patients in the Southwestern United States that have higher than normal mercury levels were female and all had used skin lightening products; likewise 90% of women tested in clinics in Arizona who were Mexican-American had been using the same products.[7]

Discrimination?

It’s not some fantasy. There is prejudice against dark-skinned people, especially women in the so-called marriage market. Interestingly, prejudice often surfaces among members of the same ethnic groups and races. For the longest, in the African American community light skin was considered more attractive, better accepted and led to superior opportunities. Fairer, lighter skin is highly valued in some countries such as Asia and India.

Men

A small percentage of men also use bleaching creams. Former Chicago Cubs slugger, Sammy Sosa, has a noticeable change of skin color. Sosa, a Dominican-born American citizen, told a reporter from ESPN that he had used a cream nightly to “soften” his skin and that it had bleached it, too.[8]

Given that chemical skin lightening has a range of serious side effects, the best advice would be to stay clear of such products and be happy to be in your skin.[9]

[1] Linda Allen Bryant, Slavery and Miscegenation in America, The Legacy of West Ford, http://www.westfordlegacy.com/History/slavedoc.html 

[2] Nalini Ravichandran, Skin whitening creams can cause long-term damage, doctors warn, Daily News, August 4, 2013, http://www.dailymail.co.uk/indiahome/indianews/article-2384456/Skin-whitening-creams-cause-long-term-damage-doctors-warn.html#ixzz31yQIvPd7 

[3] Dr. S. Allen Counter, Whitening skin can be deadly, Boston Globe, December 16, 2003, http://www.boston.com/news/globe/health_science/articles/2003/12/16/whitening_skin_can_be_deadly/ 

[4] Lynn Berry, The Dangers of Using Skin Lightening Creams, March 27, 2008, http://www.naturalnews.com/022893_skin_dangers_products.html#ixzz379p8lTcA 

[5] Catherine Saint Louis, Creams Offering Lighter Skin May Bring Risks, New York Times, January 15, 2010, 

[6] Lynn Berry, The Dangers of Using Skin Lightening Creams, March 27, 2008, http://www.naturalnews.com/022893_skin_dangers_products.html#ixzz379p8lTcA 

[7] Dr. S. Allen Counter, Whitening skin can be deadly, Boston Globe, December 16, 2003, http://www.boston.com/news/globe/health_science/articles/2003/12/16/whitening_skin_can_be_deadly/ 

[8] Enrique Rojas, Sosa: Cream has bleached skin, Sports ESPN, November 10, 2009 

[9] Simon Pitman, Medical research highlights dangers of skin lightening, Cosmetics Design, February 15, 2008, 

http://www.cosmeticsdesign-europe.com/Formulation-Science/Medical-research-highlights-dangers-of-skin-lightening?utm_source=copyright&utm_medium=OnSite&utm_campaign=copyright

A Blues Lament

by Don Barbera, Ó1999

Let me play the blues for you, that Chicago urban blues, that good old down-home, gutbucket, ass kicking, foot-stomping, guitar riffing, rat-a-tat-tat shuffling blues. I mean the “My woman done left me,” Birmingham backbeat, Memphis boiling, smooth walking bass playing, back in the alley blues. Now, that’s just about one mile down the road from heaven.

It can put your emotions in the air. It can take life’s frustrations, loses and put them into words easy to understand. The blues is an emotional translator. It makes sense of the confusion we feel, but can’t express. It stretches into the depths of our soul and drains the pool.

The blues are alive and live in the darkest closets of our souls, away from the light of day and prying eyes. The blues are a mirage, never appearing as they are. It disguises itself in cloaks of anger, aggressive behavior and reckless exploits. Often, the blues appear under the cover of kindness, loving attention and religious fervor.

No one particular thing sparks the blues. It might be the loss of a job, losing your man or woman, or just the daily pressure of fickle society make the blues come alive. It’s like having a personal storm cloud hanging over your head all day—it may never rain, but you can’t break free from the feeling that something is going to happen sooner or later and, whatever it is, it’s not going to be good.

The blues is no respecter of person, gender or station. The blues is your life. At some point in our lives, we all experience the blues. Psychiatrists and regular folk call it depression, but no matter what name you hang on it—it’s still the blues. 

Poema del CARNAVAL

A de Don Ramon Barbera, 1999

 

Todo el año, espero el carnaval.

Espero su festivital ruidoso,

Esperando asu muchedumbre bulliciosa. 

Espero a todo aquel que encienda las calles.

El carnaval atrae el encantamiento,

La sensualidad y fragmentos de romance.

La correas y los brillos de la plata

encienden un rango de caras

los patois de las voces acordadas

concluyendo la ambulation de la samba

el tangoneo de los timbales en cada esquina,

vistiendo cador cara en cortinas brillantes.

Una celebración de la luz y sonido.

Feminidad un banquete para los ojos marrones.

Discernir almas cerca del hogar,

A lo lejos bastante lejos a la entrada

se hipnotiza con miradas fijas  y exóticas

y el lenguaje que se sacude musicalmente hablando,

secandos los labios,

en las acometidas lisas como el ángel que baja.

Esperando este momento,

cuando mis ojos sobrepasan sus límites

y saben que todavía estoy viviendo

sin embargo la realidad de las marcas

de la fantasia un resplandor encantador,

de la música brasileña y del aire lleno de feminidad.

Amo el carnaval. Un sueño para un soñador viene de verdad.

Un sueño para aurar la súplica.

The Swing

During the day light hours, the swing hung from the enameled ceiling swaying in the torrid zephyrs of another Southeastern Kansas summer. Sometimes after the sun passed overhead, an errant gust made it sway ever so slowly, undulating to an arid rhythm no one heard. All day, every day, the swing sat in silence watching over the neighborhood.

When the sun finally dropped beneath the horizon, the swing became a teenage attraction as thrilling as a ride at the carnival. Surrounded by a wooden rail, the swing hovered over the open porch inviting all bold enough to approach, because at night “she” sat there, the Queen of the Night. Every summer she sat with her court as young men came to win her charms. He saw them all and wished he was among them but he knew he was too young for consideration.

Although she didn’t know it, she was the first female ever to arouse him directly. She probably didn’t even remember the occasion, but he never forgot. A fresh coat of gray enamel had the swing shining and smelling of new paint when it happened. The night was one of those star-spangled Kansas evenings when the moon is close enough to kiss and she alone in the swing.

Admiring her in the darkness from across the street, he imagined her semi-sweet chocolate skin and her dark dancing eyes. In the faint light from the porch window, he could make out the soft curve of her thigh and the gentle uplift of her breasts.

Feeling unusually bold, he crossed the street, walked up, and sat next to her in the swing. His presence didn’t startle her. They had been friends for as long as either could remember. Unknown to her his friendship stretched much deeper. That night he told how exactly how much deeper, but as he knew, the feeling wasn’t mutual. She let him down gently, but firmly. Nevertheless, he felt good about it all because he had the nerve to tell her. Despite her compassionate effort to let him down easy, she inadvertently ignited a flame that the gentle breeze from the swing only enhanced.

When she talked, she moved close and accidentally the bare skin of her leg touched him. If she moved by the touching experience she never showed it, but he felt liquid fire race through his veins, heat his face and settle in his loins with a warm fullness. As she leaned forward to comfort him, her breast brushed against his arm.

In that accidental moment, he turned suddenly and pressed his lips against hers. Her lips were soft and sweet. For a brief instant, she returned the kiss as he felt her tongue touch his in a searching manner and then, it was over. Without saying a word, she got up from the swing and went inside, leaving him alone with his thoughts swaying in the breeze to the soft squeak of the wooden seat.

He knew that she wouldn’t be coming back. So, he left, but when he did, he took something with him. When he looked back the empty swing still stirred in the night breeze, but the light in the window died. That night was the last time she sat in the swing alone.

Life moved on since then but that moment stills fans an eternal ember. The rush of throbbing passion still swings barely out of reach. It is tantalizing, swinging like a pendulum in his mind heightening imagined reality even more. The heat of that summer night still penetrates. The soft touch of young thighs lingers. The dreams unspoken and the deeds undone remain warm fantasies. In some ways, it is the best of all worlds.

There is no disappointment, only pleasant memories. There are no angry encounters, only pleasant thoughts. No reality to spoils it. It is clear a thought that makes the mouth water, the legs tighten and the body tingle.

It is locked in another world and now it is among the purest of loves—a love that can’t be ruined by the close contact of human frailty. That swing is long gone now due to the ravages of time and neglect. Yet, in his heart it is still as steady as that first night breeze many summers ago.

So in Love

A little something for those still young or young at heart.