Tuesday, April 5, 2016

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

Thursday, March 17, 2016


They Say A Drunk Speaks A Sober MindMel 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.”

Friday, February 26, 2016

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.