Is Gunnar Kaufman a Minstrel?

As of Monday, we will have finished reading the The White Boy Shuffle. I thought I would take this time to summarize what my thoughts about the book, namely the minstrel dynamic I noticed throughout. He starts off as a smart, yet still pretty naïve child, and over the course of the book we see him realize his "purpose" in life. No matter what he does, white people are always there to look at him in awe. They fail to see him as an individual, and prefer categorizing him as a black person and leaving it at that. The first chapter of the book shows us the history of Gunnar's ancestors, all who are portrayed in an eerily minstrel light. Gunnar takes this as a guide to how to not behave. However, on several instances in the beginning and more constantly later on, Gunnar starts to realize his unintentional minstrelsy.

Gunnar's upbringing is an interesting one, probably not one other kids have. He is a black boy growing up in a white, relatively accepting society, though he is still seen as "different." He is dubbed the "funny, cool black guy," already a sign of his disconnection from his white peers. He is invited to parties, but in class we mentioned that this may just be the kids wanting a "black guy," not necessarily Gunnar Kaufman. At this point, while he kind of realizes his difference, he simply sees himself in the position he's assigned. It's not until he moves to Hillside that he begins to realize his life in Santa Monica was almost a surreal one. He soon makes black friends and becomes a basketball star. While his innate talent helps him rise to popularity, he starts noticing that he is seen as more of a "basketball machine" than an individual by the white coaches and fans. His final performance at Hillside shows us what he's learned--he comes out in black face and even makes a point of sitting down on his old school's bench.

By the time he gets to college, he's started to more fully understand where he stands in society. He is a pretty well-known poet, and he realizes that whatever he does, his fans idolize him. Even upon taking off all his clothes in public and parading down the street, police officers don't arrest him because of his poetic credibility. This makes Gunnar realize that whatever he does, people will judge him for what they portray him as, not for who he actually is. I think this is the cause for his outlook on life. He doesn't really care so much about pleasing his white audience, per say. Rather, he does the exact opposite of what he would assume they would want to see. His acting this way, though, and realizing it has no effect on the crowds' delightedness, makes me realize that he really is a minstrel figure, despite his unwillingness to be one. It's almost as if the white people see him as "something different," and even if they try to be extremely accepting, they are subconsciously incapable of viewing him as anything other than a performer.

The White Boy Shuffle

Chapter 4 was an especially pivotal point in the novel. We see Gunnar transition from being the "whitest black kid in town" to discovering his innate basketball talent and joining a gang, among other milestones. One thing we considered in class today was the symbolism of this new assimilation, and what kind of theme Beatty is going for--it is definitely no longer the realism Richard Wright presented in Native Son. I think we all came to the general consensus that Scoby is Gunnar's portal to the rest of his life.

The first big thing that was Gunnar's gateway to social accommodation was when Nick Scoby called him the n-word. An interestingly pivotal point in the novel, Gunnar took this as a compliment and sign of acceptance rather than an insult. Even though he was the same color as the people of Hillside, he felt like a total outsider before this moment. It was as if Scoby was saying yes, you are black enough. Gunnar's newfound friendship with Scoby is a fruitful one--within this chapter we see him blossom from a nerdy misfit to one of the most popular kids in town. I think it would only be fair to credit Scoby with this growth.

In this chapter, we noticed that everything seems to be linked in a chain of events. Soon after Gunnar befriends Scoby and realizes he is a pretty cool yet intellectual guy, the class sets off to the Shakespeare competition. This scene is pivotal in that it is the first (and so far only) time we've seen Gunnar be superior to Scoby. Here, we see him sacrifice his attempt at winning the competition for making a simple, yet powerful, point. Scoby is in awe, and later that day on the bus ride home he calls him a "crazy n-----" and invites him to play basketball. When Gunnar picks up the sport and is automatically a basketball prodigy, I couldn't help but wonder if this had some racial connotations. I also found it interesting that, as we see becomes a trend in the book, Scoby is the one who, in a way, christened him into the sport.

However, just as he commits a jaw-dropping slam dunk and gets his spankings for doing so, he heads off to class where he has an epitome that his poetry is still an important part of him. I like Gunnar so far because it seems like both poetry and basketball play an important role in his life, and he hasn't dropped his "nerdier" poetry skill in an attempt to being a more macho basketball player. On the contrary, I don't think Gunnar has found himself yet. He mentions several times that he doesn't even really like basketball--he just does it because he's good at it. I suppose this leads me to wonder what exactly Paul Beatty's intentions with crafting this character are. So far, Gunnar doesn't seem to possess the typical "black boy" mentality. Also, he is found to be ironically bad at dancing, inspiring the white boy shuffle Beatty named this book after and hinting at the bigger theme of this story.

Challenging Racism

In response to today's movie night, I thought I would write a blog post addressing how racism is still prevalent today. However, I've noticed that the criticism of all things remotely racist probably isn't the way to go, either. While overexposure of racist occurrences succeeds in criticizing them for the time being, it also makes racism a commonly talked about topic, which I'm not sure is a good thing. This topic has succeeded in thoroughly confusing me, but here is my take on it.

Upon watching the documentary, I learned that a few of my innocent childhood memories have racial roots. I found this quite unsettling, as even the seemingly nonsense "eenie-menie-miney-moe" has chain gang connotations. I also found it interesting that while this is definitely something that has an uneasy past, I don't think we're going to drop the phrase anytime soon. The meaning has obviously been reduced to a game of random selection, and I feel like the main connection people have with this phrase is simply a reminder of their younger years. I wondered if alienating the phrase altogether would make it less of a problem, "one less thing to worry about," so to speak, but I've decided that doing so may simply cause more harm than good. Similar to the controversy over cuss words (namely the n-word), I feel like "banning" something intangible can potentially cause it to carry more weight than it originally did. There is something about labeling something as taboo that makes it even more taboo, if that makes sense.

While I do agree that we have come a long way over the past century, I feel like it would be colorblind to assume that racism doesn't exist today. I've found that anywhere I turn, one form or another of racism can be found. In the documentary, we witnessed black people performing in minstrel shows, degrading their race and further enforcing their stereotype. Reflecting on modern day entertainment, one example I forgot to mention in class is Key & Peele. While I and millions of other viewers have watched their videos and found them rather entertaining, this class has made me rethink the concept of their videos. From portraying contemporary black people to recreating slave auctions, they have risen to fame by using race as their main punchline. On one hand, this reminds me of minstrelsy, but on the other I wonder if I'm over thinking it. In today's society, calling this racist would be considered racist, in the way that constantly bringing up racism is unnecessary. This leads me to concept of colorblindness, as introduced to us in The White Boy Shuffle, and whether trying to achieve it is ideal.

As we exhausted in class today, shows like The Suite Life of Zack and Cody portray a rainbow of characters each with very specific anti-stereotypes. The Asian girl is the dumb and rich, the white girl is smart but poor, and the overseer of all of this is a well kept black man. This made me wonder whether blatantly flipping the racial roles is a good idea or not. I feel like it is definitely a much better alternative to satisfying the stereotypes, but this seemingly purposeful portrayal can cause some people to question its legitimacy. Meaning, is Disney Channel trying a little too hard to get as racially diverse as possible. This made me realize that colorblindness in society is basically unachievable (much to the disgrace of Gunnar's teacher), yet constantly challenging the racial aspects of everything isn't helping things, either. In conclusion, I'm not exactly sure what a probable ideal is, and whether we will see it anytime soon. I definitely think people are trying, though I wonder what the world will look like a century from now.

Logan and Joe

Today in class we talked about Janie's first two relationships--Logan Killicks and Joe Starks. I think it's safe to say that both men are pretty crappy husbands, but I was hesitant to side with Janie.

First off, we mentioned how Janie may just be too lofty to appreciate either of her men. However, if I were in her shoes I don't think I'd be enjoying myself either. One thing I found interesting, though, was that while they were both pretty bad, the way she handled them may have factored in to her misery. During her short marriage with Logan, once all the frill and poetry is gone, he really starts expecting her to actually help out on their farm. While Janie is taken aback at being used to shovel manure, we have to remember that this was the norm during these times. When a couple owned a farm, both were expected to contribute. She soon leaves him rather quickly for the seemingly magnificent Joe Starks. However, it soon becomes apparent that he is much worse than Logan. While Logan was just complaining about her laziness and incompetence, Joe takes their 20 years of marriage to psychologically deteriorate her. Making her conceal her hair in an insecure attempt at controlling her, he also repeatedly belittles her to the helpless mayor's wife position. Later, near the end of his life when they are both showing signs of age, he takes out his insecurities onto her, calling her old and wrinkly when he isn't much better. Additionally, his buying the mule that one time may have seemed heroic in the moment, but in the grand scheme of things he is really quite abusive.

Still, their actions alone weren't enough for me to side with Janie. One thing that particularly bothered me was how freely she moved on from both of them. Considering how traumatic she made her experiences seem, I'd assume that her parting ways with both of them would be a little more dramatic and heartfelt, like a sort of unshackling. However, she just seems to discard both of them without a care in the world, relating back to her pear tree ideals of love. When she ditches Logan, she simply gets up and walks away, not really caring about the way she leaves him. Considering that Logan wasn't as abusive as Joe turned out to be, I still have some sympathy for him. Likewise, when Joe is on death's door, she continues to verbally attack him in an attempt to stand up for all the times he's abused her. I am glad that she's finally taking charge, but quite frankly this doesn't seem like the time. I kinda wanna tell her to pick on someone her own size. When he finally dies, she feels no emotional connection or regret. She is definitely an independent woman who doesn't need a man, but her jumping around from guy to guy this easily makes it harder for me to sympathize with her troubles.

In the end, it is nice to see how happy she feels when she is single, and the power she gets from detachment. However, when she meets Tea Cake and they start having a relationship, I am worried as to how it will end. I'm also curious as to how this book will end, and why we see her returning in muddy overalls in the first chapter.

Janie's Love Life

At the start of the book, we are introduced to Janie as sexy woman who wouldn't give anyone the time of day. Men ogle her, and women envy her. They jealously take in her muddy appearance as a sort of blackmail in a "hope that she might fall to their level some day." However, it is soon apparent that the book will be about Janie, and we start learning more about her as a person. In class today, we touched on how this might affect our opinion of her, and how her delusions of love may have affected the way she is at the start of the novel.

Thanks to the backstory in the following chapter, we can kind of learn why she is the way she is. From her childhood days of pondering love and marriage under a pear tree, we can tell that her promiscuity is in a way no surprise. As mentioned in class, her admiration of the bees pollinating the majestic blossoms leads her to think of love as an ideal. "So this was a marriage!" she thinks dazedly. Monogamy is probably not her main focus--rather, she strives to find the perfect relationship. If she is unsatisfied, it is sure she'll move on. From what we've seen so far, she certainly takes this to heart in her relationships. When Logan Killicks isn't up to her standards, she doesn't even think twice about deserting him in pursuit of something better. However, we soon see that her rushed marriage with that something better, a wealthy entrepreneur by the name of Jack Starks, proves equally disappointing.

While on one hand I feel for her, that the men she has married aren't the men of her dreams, we also have to remember that she rushes into love with extremely high standards, and isn't really preparing herself for a let down. This lets me to wonder if she will ever find her perfect man. She is definitely pretty enough to win any man over, but considering she jumps on the first one available, I'm guessing the likelihood of her landing a dream man is limited. Her excessively high standards also factor in to that, as by that definition no man will ever be the "perfect" man. In her mind, there is always something better out there, and, like the bees of the pear tree, she will move on. At the beginning of the book we learn about Tea Cake, who seems like yet another promising partner, but their relationship is also over by the time she returns to town. 

Additionally, we don't know how many men she's had by the time she turns 40 (and is once again single and ready to mingle). The pear tree ideal is really a curse, then, as she sees reality as more of an ideality. She has already turned 40, and considering life in the early 20th century is limited, I believe she's setting her standards a little too high. Personally, I wonder if she will ever get married and and live happily ever after, or if her history of disappointments will keep her from finding true love.

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.