Societal Enlightenment: I Am Not Your Negro

Ever since I saw the trailer I have long anticipated watching I Am Not Your Negro, a documentary based on James Baldwin’s unfinished manuscript Remember This House, and I finally had the privilege of watching it twice. It deals with the longstanding institutionalised racism in the United States against African Americans, which is unfortunately still rampant. As I watched I Am Not Your Negro it was difficult not to analyse the film concurrently, hence the second watch. After the second third watch, I do not believe that we can achieve true “colour blindness”. At least not in my lifetime.

I became aware of Baldwin a few years ago when I saw his final bit of commentary from an older documentary, Take This Hammer. Baldwin’s speech is deliberate and articulate; delivered with a charisma and passion to affect change to an unfair set of circumstances over which he has little control insofar as his white oppressors are willing to empathise. His rationality on wholly rejecting the word “nigger” is far from how it has become accepted by, and within, contemporary African American culture. It is no longer the white man’s word to use freely as a pejorative—the black community has (re)claimed it. Or have they? Baldwin reasoned that the nigger is a white man’s problem and is, therefore, his moral imperative to discover why it is necessary. The two conflicting views means the word will continue to exist in purgatory: shameful and offensive because of its origin, but homely and affectionate when used exclusively within a community. It is the only word I am aware of that has this dichitomic quality, which one can only realise the amount of burden one word can bear.

From Baldwin’s point of view it would seem the number of people who have this “problem” have grown. The word is still used liberally and nonchalantly, as if in an act of defiance or, in some cases, a misplaced sense of privilege or familiarity by (mostly) whites and non-blacks. The Internet’s comment sections are a haven for the most laissez-faire, gratuitous users of the word where anonymity enables and protects the most hateful intentions. I cannot hide the YouTube chat feature fast enough when streaming without seeing the word used needlessly a dozen times; technology is evolving faster than our capacity to be civil with each other.

I Am Not Your Negro, though based on content from some 30 years ago, provides relevant criticism and commentary today on what seems to be an intensified acting out (or escalated media coverage) of racial divisiveness after the installation of Donald Trump as president of the United States. As if somehow because he was “elected” to the country’s highest office that this abhorrent behaviour is justifiable; as if the true nature of this small but rambunctious and regrettable subset of the American people feel safe and free, and dare I say encouraged, maybe even obligated to unleash bigotry and contempt because the president ran—and won—on a platform of “alternative facts” (i.e., lies, fallacies, and contradictions) supporting his delusional reality; of preaching the construction of a border wall and trying to deny an entire religion access to the United States.

A reference to Donald Trump’s America is the usual pretext to a salvo of racial slurs, finger pointing, berating threats, and ultimately cursing off unwelcomed receivers of their verbal assault to go back to their country of origin regardless of the fact that they were born on American soil or became naturalised US citizens. I am seemingly baffled by what to make of our southern neighbours. My reaction to this behaviour originated from a place of genuine surprise—how can people consciously choose to treat one another with such side-eyeing malice? No thanks to the constant bombardment of media outlets, and admittedly my own curiosity to want to stay informed, I now react with a mind-numbing, eye-rolling, heavy-sighing “this shit is actually happening.”

The current state of American racism extends far beyond the black community, but I Am Your Negro is a lesson in humanity rearing one of its ugliest sides. It is a reality check because it is real, yet at the same time unbelievable. It is a case study into just what is dangerously possible when intolerance, hate, ignorance, and highfalutin sense of superiority are manifested in a mob mentality.

Director Raoul Peck juxtaposes powerful imagery and footage against the backdrop of Baldwin’s poignant words, narrated flawlessly by a sombre, almost unrecognisable Samuel L. Jackson. One of his first accounts in his manuscript involves the above photograph of Dorothy Counts in 1957 making her way to Harry Harding High School in Charlotte, North Carolina, while being humiliated and scorned by a crowd of white students and protesters opposing the state’s attempt at desegregating public schools. Seeing this photo printed in French press prompted Baldwin’s return to America from self-exile.

One of the most disturbing parts of the documentary, lest you overlook the haunting stills of lynched African Americans, shows long-enough footage of Rodney King’s sadistic beating at the hands of eight police officers, which has become a stain on modern American history. The 27 seconds will induce a wistful questioning of where exactly humanity went that day, and although I am well aware of King’s story I never saw at length the video of his thrashing until watching this documentary. I do not intend, nor dare, to watch the eight-minute raw footage. What was shown is enough to rouse revulsion.

The montage of murdered young African Americans rolls to an excerpt of a speech Baldwin deliveredin London reminds us of the continued brutality against the black community today. Their deaths range from being (“accidentally”) shot by police to being carelessly murdered by an elderly neighbour. It is difficult to deny the immediate link to racism every time a black person is killed. This partiality is derived from, among other things, racial stereotyping, the ill-informed general population, misinformation from the media, and the fear that arises from the combination of these factors. The shooting of Trayvon Martin is the most well known case in recent history. As complex as these kinds of cases are, it is easy to break them down to a few defining points, and when the finer details are ignored or not further examined, subjective conclusions are drawn prematurely. George Zimmerman was ultimately found not guilty on all accounts, but then goes on to do this.

Perhaps more subtly, underlying prejudices are best observed in the opening scene where Baldwin appears on the Dick Cavett Show and the host poses this to Baldwin:

"Mr. Baldwin… I’m sure you still meet the remark that: What are the Negroes… why aren’t they optimistic? Um…  They say, “But it’s getting so much better—there are Negro mayors, there are Negroes in all of sports, there are Negroes in politics; they’re even accorded the ultimate accolade of being in television commercials now. Um… I’m glad you’re smiling. Uh… it is at once getting much better and still hopeless?"

Baldwin airs his hopelessness and criticises the use of “this peculiar language” as restricting progress of African Americans. Cavett’s face expresses a mixture of innocence, ignorance, curiosity, condescension, and a semblance of regret all within one second. Instead, Baldwin asks what he believes should be the real question: What is going to happen to this country? Rather than focusing on how the black man can progress and overcome, how can the country which oppresses a population based on the colour of their skin progress and overcome.

Cavett’s questions were not intended to be disrespectful. One can tell by the way he nervously stumbled through the question, and felt a moment of relief when Baldwin smiled, that his intentions were not ill-willed. But his position comes from a place of arms-length sympathy, at best. It is a shame their exchange does not continue to reveal further context as Cavett’s show format allowed for in-depth conversations with his guests. So perhaps, if anything, it started the discussion.

I do not want to reduce this documentary to mere sound bites, but there are a few moments of archival footage of Baldwin that stood out. One of those moments, again, comes from the Dick Cavett Show when another guest, Yale philosophy professor Paul Weiss, joins the discussion. Weiss by and large disagrees with Baldwin, and rebuts accordingly:

“All this emphasis upon black man and white does emphasise something which is here, but it emphasises or perhaps exaggerates it, and therefore makes us put people together in groups which they ought not to be in. I have more in common with a black scholar than I have with a white man who is against scholarship. And you have more in common with a white author than you have with someone who is against all literature. So why must you always concentrate on colour, or religion, or this? There are other ways of connecting men.”

Weiss’s point of view proves he is a few steps removed from the black man’s plight, as he prefaces his statement with the idea that everyone is “terribly alone” and that everyone lives their own individual lives with their own trials and tribulations. By this standard, if Weiss lives in a silo, he either is completely ignorant of, or is just downplaying the inequity that exists. No amount of philosophy, especially without appropriate frame of reference, can substitute real experiences and observations. Baldwin gives Weiss a dose of reality that draws a less than enthusiastic, dismissive response from the Yale scholar.

Oh shit.

Two of the more poetic moments from Baldwin, and take what you will from them, is where he laments about the state of his country. While I understand that the situation has arguably improved in the present day there is no denying that Baldwin’s words still ring true.

“There are days—this is one of them—when you wonder… what your role is in this country and what your future is in it. How precisely are you going to reconcile… yourself to your situation here; and how you are going to communicate… to the vast, heedless, unthinking… cruel white majority that you are here? I’m terrified at the moral apathy—the death of the heart—which is happening in my country. These people have deluded themselves for so long they really don’t think I’m human. I base this on their conduct, not on what they say. And this means they have become in themselves… moral monsters.”

The shot of Baldwin delivering his speech at Cambridge University in 1965 concludes with the film transitioning from black and white to colour as the audience rewards him with a standing ovation. A bit of an embellishment from the director, but the symbolism and metaphors for this affect are limited only by one’s imagination.

“It’s a terrible thing for an entire people to surrender to the notion that one ninth of its population is beneath them. And until that moment, until that moment comes, when we, the Americans, we the American people are able to accept the fact that I have to accept, for example, that my ancestors are both white and black. That on that continent we are trying to forge a new identity for which we need each other and that I am not a ward of America. I am not an object of missionary charity. I am one of the people who built the country. Until this moment, there is scarcely any hope for the American dream because the people who are denied participation in it, by their very presence […] will wreck it. And if that happens, it is a very grave moment for the West.”

I am about as far removed from this equation as possible. I am neither white nor black and do not live in the United States, so why does this matter to me? As Baldwin posits, the actual problem is ignorance and apathy. It does not matter whether or not I have skin in the game, as it were, I Am Not Your Negro tells a story that can affect anyone. Much like the transitioning from black and white to colour, the issue of race is complicated. It affects us in different ways. It makes me think about my own position in society; my naivete; my prejudices, subconscious or otherwise; my understanding or misunderstanding of other people; my level of self-awareness and the ability to reflect on whether my actions or inactions contribute to the solution, or the problem. If I can take one more step toward my own enlightenment...