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My New Book!

Monday, July 4, 2016

July 4, 2016: Modeling Critical Patriotism: Frederick Douglass’ July 4th Speech



[I’ve written a good deal in the last few months about the topic of critical patriotism, a central focus of my recently completed fourth book. So for this year’s 4th of July series I wanted to highlight a handful of distinct examples of perspectives and visions of such critical patriotism. Please share your own nominees for critical patriots, past and present, for a crowd-sourced weekend post full of fireworks!]
On the stunning speech that challenges us as much today as it did 165 years ago.
I’ve written many times, in this space and elsewhere, about the inspiring history of Quock Walker and his Revolutionary-era peers. Walker, his fellow Massachusetts slaves, and the abolitionist activists with whom they worked used the language and ideas of the Declaration of Independence in support of their anti-slavery petitions, and in so doing contributed significantly to the abolition of slavery in Massachusetts. I’m hard-pressed to think of a more inspiring application of our national ideals, or of a more compelling example of my argument (made in the second hyperlinked piece above) that black history is American history. Yet at the same time, it would be disingenuous in the extreme for me to claim that Walker’s case was a representative one, either in his era or at any time in the two and a half centuries of American slavery; nor I would I want to use Walker’s successful petition as evidence that the Declaration’s “All men are created equal” sentiment did not in a slaveholding nation include a central strain of hypocrisy.
If I ever need reminding of that foundational American hypocrisy, I can turn to one of our most fiery texts: Frederick Douglass’s 1852 speech “What to the Slave is the Fourth of July?” Douglass’s speech is long and multi-layered, and I don’t want to reduce its historical and social visions to any one moment; but I would argue that it builds with particular power to this passage, one of the most trenchant in American oration and writing: “Fellow-citizens, pardon me, allow me to ask, why am I called upon to speak here today? What have I, or those I represent, to do with your national independence? Are the great principles of political freedom and of natural justice, embodied in that Declaration of Independence, extended to us? And am I, therefore, called upon to bring our humble offering to the national altar, and to confess the benefits and express devout gratitude for the blessings resulting from your independence to us?” The subsequent second half of the speech sustains that perspective and passion, impugning every element of a nation still entirely defined by slavery and its effects. Despite having begun his speech by noting his “quailing sensation,” his feeling of appearing before the august gathering “shrinkingly,” Douglass thus builds instead to one of the most full-throated, confident critiques of American hypocrisy and failure ever articulated.
As an avowed and thoroughgoing optimist, it’s far easier for me to grapple with Quock Walker’s use of the Declaration and the 4th of July than with Douglass’s—which, of course, makes it that much more important for me to include Douglass in my purview, and which is why I wanted to begin this week’s series with Douglass’s speech. There’s a reason, after all, why the most famous American slave is undoubtedly Harriet Tubman—we like our histories overtly inspiring, and if we’re going to remember slavery at all, why not do so through the lens of someone who resisted it so successfully? Yet while Tubman, like Walker, is certainly worth remembering, the overarching truth of slavery in America is captured far better by Douglass’s speech and its forceful attention to our national hypocrises and flaws. And despite the ridiculous current attacks on “too negative” histories or “apologizing for America,” there’s no way we can understand our nation or move forward collectively without a fuller engagement wth precisely the critically patriotic lens provided by Douglass and his stunning speech.
Next critical patriot tomorrow,
Ben
PS. What do you think? Critical patriots you’d nominate?

Saturday, July 2, 2016

July 2-3, 2016: June 2016 Recap



[A Recap of the month that was in AmericanStudying.]
May 30: Better Remembering Memorial Day: A Memorial Day series kicks off with my annual post on how to better remember and celebrate this American holiday.
May 31: Decoration Day Histories: Douglass: The series shifts to remembering Decoration Day with a post on one of the great American speeches and why we must remember it today.
June 1: Decoration Day Histories: Roger Pryor: The invitation and speech that mark two shifts in American attitudes, as the series rolls on.
June 2: Decoration Day Histories: Rodman the Keeper: The text that helps us remember a community for whom Decoration Day’s meanings didn’t shift.
June 3: Decoration Day Histories: So What?: The series concludes with three ways to argue for remembering Decoration Day alongside Memorial Day.
June 4-5: The 1876 Election and 2016: A special post on what a controversial and destructive election can help us understand, and perhaps prevent, about our upcoming one.
June 6: AmericanStudies Beach Reads: Lahiri’s In Other Words: My annual Beach Reads series starts with a memoir I’m mostly—but not entirely—excited to read.
June 7: AmericanStudies Beach Reads: Coates’ Black Panther: The series continues with the comic book that’s bringing me back to the genre after decades away.
June 8: AmericanStudies Beach Reads: Erdrich’s LaRose: The difficulties of breaking teaching and reading habits and a book that could help me do so, as the series rolls on.
June 9: AmericanStudies Beach Reads: Vuong’s Night Sky with Exit Wounds: A poetry collection you should pack right next to that page-turning thriller in your beach bag.
June 10: AmericanStudies Beach Reads: Cultural Memoirs: The series continues with three contemporary memoirs of race and heritage.
June 11-12: Crowd-sourced Beach Reads: As always, the crowd-sourced Beach Reads post brought out many wonderful suggestions—add yours in comments!
June 13: ApologyStudying: Lessons from Canada: A series on historical apologies starts with one key difference between the U.S. and our northern neighbor.
June 14: ApologyStudying: Japanese Internment: The series continues with two things the internment apology got right and one place where it came up short.
June 15: ApologyStudying: Apologies to Native Americans: Two official apologies to Native Americans and the distance we have yet to go, as the series rolls on.
June 16: ApologyStudying: The Chinese Exclusion Act: What it means to apologize for something we don’t remember well, and how one might affect the other.
June 17: ApologyStudying: The Reparations Debate: The series concludes with the elephant in the ApologyStudying room and how the week’s other topics might affect it.
June 18-19: ApologyStudying: Apologizing for America?: A special weekend post that combines a few further thoughts of mine with some responses from fellow ApologyStudiers.
June 20: SummerStudying: The Fresh Prince and “Summertime”: A series on summer texts and contexts starts with two ways to AmericanStudy the Fresh Prince.
June 21: SummerStudying: Nostalgia and “The Boys of Summer”: The series continues with the limitations of nostalgia and why it’s a vital perspective nonetheless.
June 22: SummerStudying: Irony and “Summertime Sadness”: The artistic and humans roles and meanings of irony, as the series rolls on.
June 23: SummerStudying: Utopias and the Summer of Love: How two historical utopias can help us better understand the 1960s social experiment.
June 24: SummerStudying: Kids and “Summertime Blues”: The series concludes with what a summer classic reveals about the voices of youth.
June 25-26: Crowd-sourced SummerStudying: Another great crowd-sourced post, full of responses and nominations from fellow SummerStudiers—add yours in comments!
June 27: Gone with the Wind Turns 80: Racist Classics: A series on the novel’s 80th birthday starts with whether and how to view and re-view racist classics.
June 28: Gone with the Wind Turns 80: Hattie McDaniel: The series continues with the limits and power of the actress’s Academy Award-winning performance as a slave.
June 29: Gone with the Wind Turns 80: The Plantation Tradition: One important, if ironic, way that Mitchell’s did revise historical propaganda, as the series rolls on.
June 30: Gone with the Wind Turns 80: Revisiting Rhett Butler: Why I’d still critique Mitchell’s romantic hero, and a side of him I’ve come to better appreciate.
July 1: Gone with the Wind Turns 80: The Worst and Best of Popularity: The series concludes with the problems and possibilities presented by troubling popular art.
Next series starts Monday,
Ben
PS. Topics you’d like to see covered in this space? Guest Posts you’d like to contribute? Lemme know!

Friday, July 1, 2016

July 1, 2016: Gone with the Wind Turns 80: The Worst and Best of Popularity



[June 30th marks the 80th anniversary of the initial publication of one of the 20th century’s bestselling novels, Margaret Mitchell’s Gone with the Wind (1936). So this week I’ll offer a handful of thoughts on the book and its legacies, as well as some of the broader issues to which it connects.]
On the problems and possibilities presented by troubling popular art.
A few years back, I started a week-long series on popular fiction with a post on the continued relevance of Jane Tompkins’ scholarly concept of the “cultural work” done by 19th century popular novels. As I noted there, Tompkins sought to revise and expand the literary canon as it had been developed over the prior half-century of criticism by redefining “greatness,” focusing not on intrinsic aesthetic qualities or successes so much as texts’ extrinsic social and cultural effects. Her most central example was the 19th century’s bestselling American novel, Harriet Beecher Stowe’s Uncle Tom’s Cabin, a book that exemplifies cultural work, having impacted American society (in its own moment and for the century and a half that has followed) on countless levels. If we were to apply the same lens and argument to 20th century American literature, it’d be difficult to make the case for another work having been more popular and successful—and thus, at least potentially, having had a wider and more significant set of effects, in its own moment and in subsequent decades—than Gone with the Wind.
Yet as my posts this week have illustrated, from the perspective of either progressive political beliefs or a multicultural definition of American identity Mitchell’s novel did far different, and far more destructive, cultural work than did Stowe’s (which was itself, to be clear, far from perfect on issues of race and culture, but still significantly better-intentioned than Mitchell’s book). So what do us public AmericanStudies scholars do with that sort of popular fiction, one where the popularity and appeals and legacy are impossible to separate from cultural work that we’d spend a career resisting and challenging? The easy but (to my mind) unacceptable answer would be to argue that Mitchell’s novel (and/or the just as popular film adaptation) should be, not censored entirely, but less frequently read or viewed, that its continued cultural presence should be minimized. Yet even if that weren’t a deeply problematic thing to argue (and I would say that it is, one that’s much too close to censorship for my liking), I don’t believe it would lead in our current society to collective conversation or understandings. Instead, public scholars arguing that something shouldn’t be read as much seems guaranteed simply to put it on a required reading list for those individuals and communities who feel themselves opposed to our perspectives.
So if we accept that Mitchell’s compelling and enduring novel will continue to be read, what then? We could of course make the case for other texts that complement and complicate her novel, although the two contemporary works that I would particularly highlight—W.E.B. Du Bois’ Black Reconstruction in America (1935) and William Faulkner’s Absalom, Absalom! (1936)—are about as far from page-turning bestsellers as books can get. But in any case, it’d be even more important to talk collectively, as I’ve tried to model in individual ways this week, about Gone with the Wind itself—about its strengths as well its flaws, about why and how it has endured as well as what mythic and troubling narratives it has reflected and perpetuated, about what it means to love a work of art and how even (indeed, especially) when we do it’s important to be able to be analytical and critical about it. I believe those are conversations we can all take part in, ones that parallel the best kinds of classroom discussions, and ones through which we can help a popular work like Gone with the Wind move into its ninth decade in a meaningful as well as pleasurable way.
June recap this weekend,
Ben
PS. What do you think? Memories or perspectives on Gone with the Wind you’d share?