paradox of the obvious
Paradox of the Obvious
As I work on Richard
Wright: An Unending Hunger for Life, the growth of Wright's mind and
creativity becomes increasingly fascinating and resistant to
"definitive" explanation. How
does one explain, for example, that certain ideas born out of his vernacular
existentialism retain exceptional relevance in 2018? It does not seem sufficient to say the ideas
are transcendent, or to ignore abuses and uses of Wright's thought in
contemporary discussions of intellectual histories and world affairs. Why does "Early Days in Chicago,"
published in the anthology Cross Section
1945 and later published as "The Man Who Went to Chicago" in Eight Men, address the most unsettling issues
of 2018?
As I wrote in 1978, we must struggle to "understand
something of Wright's ultimate despair and something about Wright's frantic
distrust of all except the 'self.' "
Wright's truth-telling is fundamentally autobiographical, and it stands
in contrast to the problematic, commercialized truth-telling which has cachet
among some of his heirs who use his ideas to buttress their own. One instance leaps from page 82 of George
Yancy's Backlash: What Happens When We
Talk Honestly about Racism in America (Lanham, MD: Rowman & Littlefield,
2018), a book which exposes, it might be argued, that some highly intelligent African American
male thinkers are less politically savvy than their biological great-grandparents.
Yancy quotes a
brief passage from "The Man Who Went to Chicago" -----
I feel that for white America to understand the
significance of the problem of [ the vast majority of Black people ] will take
a bigger and tougher America than any we have yet known. I feel that America's past is too shallow,
her national character too superficially optimistic, her very morality too
suffused with color hate for her to accomplish so vast and complex a task.
-----to support his argument that his students "have
not come to terms with white America's embedded and recalcitrant racist
historical past and present" and that Wright's " powerful
characterization…is applicable to the same white America" Yancy so desperately addressed in his letter "Dear White America" (New York Times column, The Stone, on
December 24, 2015). Had Yancy not slightly
modified Wright's language, grim laughter might have remained in a barrel.
Laughter, a trickster who prevents crying, refuses to be
silent. I note that Yancy substitutes
"the vast majority of Black people" for Wright's "the
Negro." To make an ant hill of a
mountain, I suggest Wright used an essential abstraction ---the Negro, which Yancy replaced
with an equally problematic specification.
So what is to be said for the excluded
minority of Black people? Both Yancy
and Wright are involved with autobiographical polemic. Wright's engagement is original; Yancy's, derivative. Wright followed up his observation in White Man, Listen! (1957), addressing the
international abstraction identified as "White Man" (and one can
imagine certain feminists cringe that Wright did not address "White
Woman"), thus placing America's inept and permanent fragility in the
context of prevailing global problems.
On the other hand, Yancy's target audience is enclosed in the boundaries
of a single nation, marinating by denial in what he calls " a cesspool of
white imagining". Yancy uses
Wright's timeless truth in the service of a dead-end project, the paradox of
the obvious.
Jerry W. Ward, Jr. December 11, 2018
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