LITR 5731:
Seminar in American Minority Literature
University of
Houston-Clear Lake, Fall 2001
Sample Student Midterm
Andrea Dunn
Dr. Craig White
LITR 5731 / CRCL 5931 – Seminar in American Minority Literature
2 October 2001
Larger
than Literacy:
Reconstructing
the American Dream in African American Literature
In an era where "knowledge is
power," the emphasis on literacy in African American texts is undeniable.
Beginning with the first African American literary works, the slave narratives,
through the canon’s more recent successes such as Toni Morrison’s Song of
Solomon and Sapphire’s Push, the topic of literacy is almost
inextricably connected to freedom and power. A closer investigation, however,
leads the reader to another, less direct, message indicating that perhaps this
belief in literacy as a pathway to the "American Dream" of freedom and
social and financial success is contradictory or, at least, insufficient in
social and cultural terms. In this way, African American literature reconstructs
the "American Dream" into an even more complex "dream
deferred."
In his introduction to The Classic Slave
Narratives, Henry Louis Gates, Jr. states: "In literacy lay true
freedom for the black slave," (ix). Such is the case for Frederick Douglass
whose initial tutelage by his mistress, Mrs. Auld, and the subsequent denial of
such tutelage by Mr. Auld enlightens Douglass to "an entirely new train of
thought," which allows him to understand "the pathway from slavery to
freedom," (275). Understanding that maintaining the illiteracy of the slave
population was "the white man’s power to enslave the black man"
(275), Douglass realizes that learning to read is a potential pathway for
freedom from the chains of slavery. It is here, however, that the distinction
between freedom from slavery and the freedom inherent in the ideology of the
"American Dream" begin to breakdown what Harvey Graff terms "the
literacy myth."
In Douglass’ case, though literacy is his
means to physical freedom, the social and cultural barriers put in place by the
dominant culture limit his freedom outside slavery by forcing his assimilation
into the white culture – leaving his friends and his past behind. This
assimilation is most apparent when Douglass leaves Baltimore:
It was to those
little Baltimore boys that I felt the strongest attachment. I had received many
good lessons from them, and was still receiving them. (285)
Nowhere else in his narrative does Douglass
speak as emotionally about leaving family or other slaves even though the slave
song perhaps offered the greatest lessons:
This they would
sing, as a chorus, to words which to many would seem unmeaning a jargon, but
which, nevertheless, were full of meaning to themselves. I have sometimes
thought that the mere hearing of those songs would do more to impress some minds
with the horrible character of slavery, than the reading of whole volumes of
philosophy on the subject could do. (262)
Where his literacy awakened him to the
monstrosities of slavery and the hope in the abolitionist movement, Douglass’
"arduous journey to freedom and his simultaneous journey from orality to
literacy" (Gates xiv), actually separates him from his African American
heritage and falls short of offering the social and economic independence
promised by the "American Dream". In fact, if it were not for the
altruism of white community members Mr. Ruggles and Mr. Johnson, who helped
Douglass choose his name, his work, and a place in their communities, Douglass
might not have succeeded in his life as a free man.
Similarly, in Incidents in the Life of a
Slave Girl a combination of literacy and Mrs. Bruce’s altruism buy Harriet
Jacobs’ (a.k.a. Linda Brent) physical freedom while leaving "the dream of
[her] life yet unrealized" (513) – that of a home of her own and the
return of her children. Remaining with Mrs. Bruce signifies Jacobs’ continued
reliance upon the dominant culture that "binds [her] to her side,"
(513). In both cases, literacy is a false promise for true economic and social
independence and emotional freedom. However, while Jacobs would "gladly
forget" the past, she, unlike Douglass, realizes that the "gloomy
recollections" offer memories of her grandmother, her culture, and her
history (513).
Toni Morrison more directly deconstructs the
"American Dream" and the "literacy myth" in The Song of
Solomon by deriding formal education and literacy while emphasizing oral
family history. A most blatant ridicule of formal education comes to the reader
in the story of First Corinthians Dead, the only character in the novel to
attend college. First Corinthians finds that education made her "a little
too elegant" (188), and that "Bryn Mawr had done what a four-year dose
of liberal education was designed to do: unfit her for eighty percent of the
useful work of the world," (189). At forty-two, First Corinthians is
untrained, unmarried and unfulfilled, thanks to her college education.
Milkman, on the other hand, is not sent to
college and is ultimately educated by the oral family history revealed by Pilate
and the townspeople of Shalimar, Virginia. Milkman’s freedom comes only after
he breaks the chains of the "American Dream" myth his father is slave
to and seeks out his history, his culture, and his identity.
Milkman’s father, Macon Dead II, is certain
that everything bad thing that happened to his father, Macon Dead,
"happened because he couldn’t read," (53). However, despite his own
literacy, Milkman’s father remains unfulfilled and extremist in his pursuit of
the "American Dream". "Own things. And let the things you own own
other things. Then you’ll own yourself and other people too" (55),
advises Dead while he simultaneously yearns for the music that "made him
think of fields and wild turkey and calico" (29) – his history, his
culture.
Morrison continues to emphasize the
usefulness of song and orality while dismissing traditional representations of
African American literacy throughout the novel. For instance, Morrison’s use
of biblical names for her characters represents the African American reliance on
the Bible as a historical tool for literacy. Morrison, however, turns this idea
upon itself by representing the use of the Bible as an ambiguous, thoughtless
tool for naming rather than a spiritual guide and a means to literacy:
He had cooperated
as a young father with the blind selection of names from the Bible for every
child other than the first male. (18)
Instead, Morrison emphasizes the importance
of African folktales and slave-inspired blues songs that tell the tale of
Milkman’s people and that allow for the expression of the pain and sorrow of a
past and the continuing journey of a people:
O Sugarman don’t
leave me here
Cotton balls to
choke me
O Sugarman don’t
leave me here
Buckra’s arms to
yoke me
Sugarman done fly
away
Sugarman done gone
Sugarman cut across
the sky
Sugarman gone home.
(49)
Unlike his father, Milkman allows his
affinity for the songs to lead him from his father’s futility and greed and to
his own dream of restoring the family legacy and reclaiming his identity.
Despite his father’s warnings that "Pilate can’t teach you a thing you
can use in this world" (55), Milkman realizes after visiting his aunt that
she is able to make "him feel tall," (50). Pilate’s songs take his
breath away and make him feel faint "from the weight of what he [is]
feeling," (49). In the end, Milkman, "who knew no songs, and had no
singing voice that anybody would want to hear" (336), sings to the woman
who, so grounded in herself and her culture, could fly without ever leaving the
ground. In the end, Milkman finally proclaims, "Here I am!" (337).
Songs and stories are all the education Milkman needs to find the roots that
ultimately give him his wings to freedom.
The ending to Sapphire’s Push is
not as neat. In fact, the ending offers the final deconstruction of the
"literacy myth" and "American Dream" apparent throughout the
novel.
The story, told by the illiterate character
Precious who "ain’ (sic) got no education even tho’ (sic) I not miss
days of school" (57), is a victim of an educational system that continues
to teach her nothing and reinforces her feelings of worthlessness:
The tesses (sic)
paint a picture of me an’ (sic) my muver (sic) – my whole family, we more
than dumb, we invisible. (30)
Despite this realization, Precious still
believes that "school gonna help me get out dis (sic) house" (35), as
she places her future in the hands of the Higher Education Alternative/Each One
Teach One program that offers her hope:
I like the routine
of school, the dream of school. (107)
During her alternative education, Precious,
who feels as though her mother "done killed [her] a long time ago"
(64), begins to realize that she has value. Much like Frederick Douglass whose
literacy gives him insight, even the smallest steps to literacy allow Precious
to reflect on her social status:
Now since I sit in
circle I realize all my life, all my life I been outside of circle. (62)
Additionally, Precious projects her dreams of
literacy and salvation onto her son:
I bet chu (sic) one
thing, I bet chu my baby can read. (63)
However, like Milkman’s father, Precious
places too much hope in the literacy myth. Precious’ emphasis on making sure
her son "ain’ (sic) gonna have no dumb muver" (63), resonates the
belief, similar to that of Macon Dead II, that all of the bad things that
happened to her, happened because her mother could not read. Likewise,
Precious’ unwillingness to examine her past, mimics Macon Dead’s denial of
his family’s past in pursuit of the "American Dream":
Ms. Rain always
saying write remember write remember. Counselor say talk about it, talk about it
– the PAST. What about NOW! At least wif (sic) school I am getting’ (sic)
ready for my future (which to me is right now). (115)
Where Harriet Jacobs dreams of a home of her
own, so does Precious. Where Milkman dreams of flight, Precious feels it:
I see flying. Feel
flying. Am flying. (129)
However, years of abuse by her parents and
neglect perpetuated by America’s education and social system are larger than
literacy. Precious’ almost attains her dream of physical freedom at the
half-way house but her dream for economic and social independence is deferred in
the end as Precious contemplates: "One year? Five? Ten years?" (140).
No one is sure what the future will hold, not even Precious, the American
dreamer.
The dreams deferred by the hegemonic nature
of the literacy-as-freedom ideology is embedded in an American work ethic
inherent in the notion of equality for all Americans and a "boot strap
theory" which names hard work as the panacea for any unfavorable condition.
Douglass, Jacobs, Morrison and Sapphire debunk this belief by considering a
battery of complex issues unique to African Americans including issues of
slavery, assimilation and systemic discrimination, neglect and abuse. "The
Dream" for African Americans is much more than the "American
Dream." It is a dream of freedom, independence and equality built on the
successful negotiation of not just illiteracy, but of a history of social and
cultural denial. Such is the nature of the dream deferred.
WORKS
CITED
Brent, Linda. Incidents
in the Life of a Slave Girl. The Classic Slave Narratives. Ed. Henry
Louis Gates, Jr. New York: Penguin Group, 1987.
Douglass,
Frederick. Narrative of the Life of Frederick Douglass. The Classic
Slave Narratives. Ed. Henry Louis Gates, Jr. New York: Penguin Group, 1987.
Gates, Henry Louis,
Jr. Introduction. The Classic Slave Narratives. Ed. Henry Louis Gates,
Jr. New York: Penguin Group, 1987. ix-xviii.
Graff, Harvey J. The
Literacy Myth: Literacy and Social Structure in the Nineteenth-Century City.
New York: Academic Press, 1979.
Morrison, Toni. Song
of Solomon. New York: The Penguin Group, 1977.