Men we Reaped - By Jesmyn Ward
The next book on this semester's reading assignments in the OTIS MFA creative writing program was a memoir by Jesmyn Ward, a black woman from the deep south, growing up in a disenfranchised community where the young people have limited access to resources like education and stable incomes. A very "Boyz 'n the Hood" type of set up.
The format of this novel is chronicling her life as it surrounds the lives of five boys who were
eventually killed in their young adult years, whether by murder, suicide, or accident. One of the
young men was her brother, as well.
Obviously, the fascination that comes with the story of this community makes use of the horror element of it. The throes of being on the bottom side of capitalism, in a part of the country where white supremacy is still fashionable, are a gripping subject matter that the rest of white America seems to be developing an interest in.
It's interesting to get these reactions from white folks about stuff that I grew up hearing about from the time I was a small child. Through family gatherings and dinner table conversations, my parents and grandparents told my brother and myself about how aggressive the, shall we say "same group preference" of white folks was back in their day.
I grew up in southern California, a notoriously left-leaning state, and not in poverty, but middle class, and my Grandfather tells me of a time when Pasadena had a "sundown law." That is a to say, a curfew for black folks wandering in that part of the city. You could be arrested just for being there after dark.
I'd also heard about "restrictive covenants" that limit what neighborhoods ethnic minorities can move into. One of my great-aunts, who is fairly light skinned, when looking for a house in Los Angeles decades ago, with her very dark skinned husband, actually had one of her light skinned male friends accompany her to visit with the real estate agent to close the deal, posing as her actual husband, just in case. They ended up getting the house, but the neighbors must have been in for a surprise. Hah! Glad they didn't sue, but legally, back in those days, they had the right to.
Going even further back, to the 1930s, when my Grandmother was a little girl, she had two sisters, and they were being raised by a single father, who had to work and couldn't take care of them at the same time, so he tried to give them up for adoption at an orphanage. Problem was, the orphanage would not take them because they were black, and orphans need food, clothing, shelter and comfort, all of which cost money. Which is money that could be spent on a white orphan, just sayin'...
I mean, I know it was the 1930s and racism was socially acceptable back then, but shit, how do you brush off orphans? (They ended up being raised by aunts and uncles she told me.)
I was just surprised to hear Jesmyn Ward's accounts of the southern lopsided economy as being so recent. Even as late as the early 2000s, there are still racist jokes commonly heard in schools, and underprivileged communities where basic public works facilities are not maintained.
One of her friends was even killed in a car accident by train collision, because the flashing red-light lowering arm mechanical device wasn't well maintained in that area. I guess local legislators didn't want to waste the tax dollars keeping it operating as a matter of public safety.
But she made it out, and wrote her little book. I've always seen how white folks eat this stuff up, and talk for a half hour about how tragic it is, because it is a fascinating discussion, but then nothing changes. Hate to be cynical, but as an actual person of color myself, I wonder what the fascination is among white folks with these nightmares they've created for people, why they love to stand and gawk, but do nothing to open up the economy. Not to mention the numerous poor white communities in America where these types of stories occur.
After graduating college myself, (I majored in Art) I couldn't get any jobs except for warehouse worker jobs, moving boxes, or moving furniture, and digging ditches or picking up trash on construction sites, and though I'm not from that level of society, I caught a glimpse into that world.
Believe me when I say that as much as we all might "feel bad" for those people, when you yourself are down there, it is clear that there is NO ONE coming to save you.
Even if you don't pay a slave a monthly wage, you still need to spend money to feed and clothe them, provide basic medical attention and provide resting shelter, so they can be fit for work, which all costs money. Even if slavery is not TECHNICALLY legal today, I as the employer don't have to pay you any more money than the minimum required for you to feed and clothe yourself, afford basic medical attention and a shelter in which to rest, so that you can come back the next day and work for me. And with your limited access to education and professional contacts, I may not OWN you, but it's the next best thing.
The format of this novel is chronicling her life as it surrounds the lives of five boys who were
young men was her brother, as well.
Obviously, the fascination that comes with the story of this community makes use of the horror element of it. The throes of being on the bottom side of capitalism, in a part of the country where white supremacy is still fashionable, are a gripping subject matter that the rest of white America seems to be developing an interest in.It's interesting to get these reactions from white folks about stuff that I grew up hearing about from the time I was a small child. Through family gatherings and dinner table conversations, my parents and grandparents told my brother and myself about how aggressive the, shall we say "same group preference" of white folks was back in their day.
I grew up in southern California, a notoriously left-leaning state, and not in poverty, but middle class, and my Grandfather tells me of a time when Pasadena had a "sundown law." That is a to say, a curfew for black folks wandering in that part of the city. You could be arrested just for being there after dark.
I'd also heard about "restrictive covenants" that limit what neighborhoods ethnic minorities can move into. One of my great-aunts, who is fairly light skinned, when looking for a house in Los Angeles decades ago, with her very dark skinned husband, actually had one of her light skinned male friends accompany her to visit with the real estate agent to close the deal, posing as her actual husband, just in case. They ended up getting the house, but the neighbors must have been in for a surprise. Hah! Glad they didn't sue, but legally, back in those days, they had the right to.
Going even further back, to the 1930s, when my Grandmother was a little girl, she had two sisters, and they were being raised by a single father, who had to work and couldn't take care of them at the same time, so he tried to give them up for adoption at an orphanage. Problem was, the orphanage would not take them because they were black, and orphans need food, clothing, shelter and comfort, all of which cost money. Which is money that could be spent on a white orphan, just sayin'...
I mean, I know it was the 1930s and racism was socially acceptable back then, but shit, how do you brush off orphans? (They ended up being raised by aunts and uncles she told me.)
I was just surprised to hear Jesmyn Ward's accounts of the southern lopsided economy as being so recent. Even as late as the early 2000s, there are still racist jokes commonly heard in schools, and underprivileged communities where basic public works facilities are not maintained.
One of her friends was even killed in a car accident by train collision, because the flashing red-light lowering arm mechanical device wasn't well maintained in that area. I guess local legislators didn't want to waste the tax dollars keeping it operating as a matter of public safety.
But she made it out, and wrote her little book. I've always seen how white folks eat this stuff up, and talk for a half hour about how tragic it is, because it is a fascinating discussion, but then nothing changes. Hate to be cynical, but as an actual person of color myself, I wonder what the fascination is among white folks with these nightmares they've created for people, why they love to stand and gawk, but do nothing to open up the economy. Not to mention the numerous poor white communities in America where these types of stories occur.
After graduating college myself, (I majored in Art) I couldn't get any jobs except for warehouse worker jobs, moving boxes, or moving furniture, and digging ditches or picking up trash on construction sites, and though I'm not from that level of society, I caught a glimpse into that world.
Believe me when I say that as much as we all might "feel bad" for those people, when you yourself are down there, it is clear that there is NO ONE coming to save you.
Even if you don't pay a slave a monthly wage, you still need to spend money to feed and clothe them, provide basic medical attention and provide resting shelter, so they can be fit for work, which all costs money. Even if slavery is not TECHNICALLY legal today, I as the employer don't have to pay you any more money than the minimum required for you to feed and clothe yourself, afford basic medical attention and a shelter in which to rest, so that you can come back the next day and work for me. And with your limited access to education and professional contacts, I may not OWN you, but it's the next best thing.
