Narrator's Racial Icons

Throughout the novel, we have seen several racial items pop up in the narrator's life. One thing that I found interesting, though, is that while he initially tries to reject them, he ends up just bringing them along in his briefcase. Pretty recently, the narrator has obtained a jolly bank, chain link, and Sambo doll. The parallels between the bank and doll are by themselves quite striking, and we see a certain pattern of events unfold after each.

The black Americana jolly bank the narrator notices in chapter 15 is the first of these events. I don't think his finally noticing it so late into his stay was a coincidence. As we've seen so far, Ellison has a way of making even the most mundane things mean something. I think instead the author tried to depict how the narrator, prior to this scene, was somewhat blind to just how racist the world is. He proceeds to smash the bank--quite an impressive feat, considering it's made of cast iron--and then panicking and putting it in his briefcase to discard later. When he does attempt to dispose of it, however, we see how the racial icon keeps on coming back into his life, and he ultimately leaves it be. As far as we know, he is still carrying it. Besides this clear symbolism of racial stereotypes, Ellison amplifies the situation by making each of his attempted disposals further lowering in status for the narrator. The first time he tries to get rid of it, the woman immediately assumes he's a southern hoodlum. This represents the constant labeling the narrator has endured throughout the book. As a matter of fact, we don't even know him by name--just as a black man trying to make his way through the world.

A little further down the road, we see the narrator acquire Tarp's chain link. As opposed to the bank, however, the narrator accepts this gift for what it is, and is rather protective of it when Westrum starts criticizing it. While Westrum takes the equality beliefs of the Brotherhood a little too seriously--getting upset at the narrator for owning such a thing--the narrator believes this is necessary to understand his history and how the past has shaped the world today. It is better to keep yourself well-rounded, rather than denying all things evil and fabricating a naïve reality, much like Westrum is doing.

Finally, the narrator obtains Clifton's Sambo doll. By now, he has enough racist memorabilia to establish his own museum, but we again see his somewhat unclear motives for holding on to all of this. Initially, the Sambo doll mesmerizes him. The "inanimate, boneless bouncing of the grinning doll" draws him towards Clifton's show before he even notices the puppeteer himself. Once he does, he doesn't know how to feel. On one hand he is enchanted, but in another he is disgusted at the puppet and the fact that the puppet enchanted him in the first place. Doing the most defiant thing he can come up with at the moment, he spits on it. Instead, people start to laugh at him too, thinking he resembles the doll. Not knowing what else to do, he scoops up the doll and puts it in his pocket too, "[dropping] it in the pocket where [he] carried Brother tarp's chain link."

Overall, I certainly don't think Ellison accidentally included all three of these events innocently. I think he was trying to get at the bigger picture of the narrator's life--and life for all african americans of the era--by representing how racial stereotypes have not died down since the abolishment of slavery nearly a century ago. The racial icons that continue to follow him and are seemingly inseparable from him definitely back up Ellison's intentions.

Yams Everywhere

The yam scene in Invisible Man was definitely something special. Even though I'm not particularly fond of yams, the way Ellison was describing them made me crave one. The scene also brought up interesting points regarding the narrator's development, and how yams can be used to represent his connection to his roots. We can see how something as simple as a yam can bring him a sense of happiness wherever he goes.

In chapter 13, we see the narrator traversing the snowy city streets of Harlem. This is his first northern winter, and we can see how alien he feels--a southerner in the north. A few steps later, however, the sweet smell of baking yams makes its way to him. He suddenly feels nostalgic and starts reminiscing about his childhood, remembering all the yams he has ever consumed. Eagerly, he purchases one. He sees the "sugary pulp streaming in the cold," and finds it as delicious, if not better, as any yam he's had before.

This scene is powerful in the sense that it presents the yam as a symbol of his southern heritage, a heritage that he now isn't afraid to conceal. In the previous chapters, namely in the diner scene, we see the narrator get very angry and even offended that someone would offer him pork chops and grits, a typical southern meal. Even though the waiter most likely meant no harm, it rubs the narrator the wrong way because he feels like he doesn't have a choice. Throughout the book, we have seen various characters make assumptions about him. He feels like he's being labeled, and doesn't like it. What makes the yam scene striking, then, is the fact that the narrator bought a yam out of his own free will. This gives him a surge of power, and he soon starts cracking jokes and making ironic assumptions about "white folks," much like they have about him this entire time.

I found it interesting that the yams affected him so much, but as soon as the vendor brought up sweet potato fried pies, the narrator lost interest. As we mentioned in class, it probably isn't a coincidence that Ellison chose yams. A yam, which is a root, fittingly represents his southern roots. There is also something about the candor of his love for yams. Unlike how he's been living his life so far, taste isn't something you can fake, and the yams really prove to his one friend in a crowd of strangers. The narrator's realization of this makes him make the comment, "why, you could cause us the greatest humiliation simply by confronting us with something we liked." This shows the growth the narrator has experienced since the beginning of the book. We could say his eyes have been opened, and he is on the path to living amongst his 1,369 lightbulbs.

Rebirth

Wow, it's really been a while since I posted! We're already about halfway through Invisible Man, although I think it's this point in particular that proves very interesting. We basically see the old narrator get wiped away and be replaced by a more refreshed, free, and invisible man we met in the prologue.

Chapter 11 was definitely a turning point in the book. In it, we see the narrator recovering from Chapter 10's paint factory explosion. He wakes up to find himself in the factory hospital, totally disoriented and not even recalling his name or mother. Interestingly enough, the one prompt the narrator has a sort of reaction to is when the doctor asks him "Who was Buckeye the Rabbit?" "Boy, who was Brer Rabbit?" The narrator recalls that these are characters from his youth, symbolizing how ones innocence (Buckeye) is soon replaced with the more mature aspect of the world (Brer).

One thing that struck me, though, was the symbolism of the operating room and how it represented his rebirth. Not only does he have no recollection of any past events in his life, but he is also incapable of forming words, the typical characteristics of a newborn baby. Throughout the scene, we can hear background noises that seem eerily like that of a woman in labor.  When "the nurse clipped through the belly band and removed the heavy node," one could say this symbolized the cutting of his umbilical cord. 

When the narrator leaves the factory hospital, he feels like a new man. His white factory clothes symbolize his newness into the world, and he begins to feel more, if not completely, free. The narrator soon winds up at a kind old woman's house. This woman, Mary, takes him in and tells him to come back if he wishes, saying the rent is low. Over the next few months, Mary acts as a mother figure towards the narrator, figuratively raising the narrator as her own and preparing him for the real world.

As far as being a new man goes, we see the narrator embracing his race much more than he did in the past. While he was working for the college, he avoided and was even embarrassed of his southern upbringing, avoiding stereotypes at all costs. That one time he stopped by a diner before going to work at the paint factory, he took great offense over being offered pork chops and grits, something he considers southern and therefore primitive. After his "rebirth," though, we see him harnessing his culture much more, reverting back to eating yams from street corners and getting more involved in saying what's on his mind regarding racial barriers. This leads him to meet new people, and he soon joins the Brotherhood.

However, the concept of the Brotherhood in relation to the narrator's life throws me off a little. While the narrator sees himself as free, invisible, even, the Brotherhood gives him a sort of belonging that I'm not sure he enjoys. So I guess the question is, even though he has joined to stand up for what he believes in, is this group mentality a good thing for him?