Am I Southern? Does It Matter? 

A Black woman with short hair looks pensively downward. Along the bottom, a black and white photo of slave quarters is superimposed, and the edges are faded like an old photograph.

by Eric L.

I recently read Kindred by Octavia Butler in my book discussion group. It was my first exposure to Butler, and I like both her style and the book overall quite a bit. We also read the graphic novel as a supplement. I recommend it, too, as the illustration and style were excellent.

Written in the 1970s, the plot concerns a Black woman from Los Angeles who is mysteriously transported back to the antebellum south, specifically to the eastern shore of Maryland. It continues to happen, and each time the protagonist remains a bit longer. The time she stays in the past is greater than the length of time she is missing from 1970s L.A. It goes without saying that the past is terrible for a Black woman. 

Hence my question about being southern. As someone from Baltimore, I tend to view myself as an “enlightened north-easter.” However, the racial history of this country is something that should be given some thought. It’s not just a southern plantation owner issue that ended in 1863.

Dana is a writer. Her husband is also a writer, and he is white. I’d rather not give too much away so you can read the book to determine why this is happening, but in a little bit of a spoiler, she has relatives on this plantation that she returns to again and again. One of them, who eventually becomes the plantation owner, is white; the other is a Black woman, technically a “free” woman. It’s not exactly the freest environment even if you’re not enslaved.

Her reminiscence about how she met her husband is sweetly romantic and interspersed throughout the book. The juxtaposition of the recent past, the present, and the distant past is an interesting story technique. At one point, her husband purposefully holds on to her during one of her time travels in an effort to accompany her. As a white man, he obviously has a much higher social standing than she does and hopes to provide some protection. He is successful, to some extent. She wonders if he will somehow be changed by spending time in this time period. Really, she’s wondering how anyone could not be changed, herself included.  

The discussions and disagreements between the two of them about common misunderstandings between men and women, Black people and white people, are telling. The whole book offers a compelling study in empathy. The protagonist’s own status as a free Black woman and a visitor to the plantation, along with her relations with both white people and enslaved persons, highlight ideas of jealousy and privilege. That said, Butler deftly deals with the concept of how we all think we’d comport ourselves in oppressive situations. When one’s actual survival is at stake, how outspoken could anyone be with a very real threat of state-sanctioned terror and beatings?  

To be clear: this is not a defense of race relations in the 1970s, or now for that matter. The protagonist experiences profound culture shock (e.g., I could beat you for speaking to me that way). For me, this story further acknowledges the history of those who resisted and fought back against nearly insurmountable odds. The protagonist is forced to reckon with her own privilege in the antebellum south and her relatively comfortable life in 1970s America. She leads you to this by thinking that, in just a few years, Harriet Tubman begins bringing enslaved people to freedom. As a reader you wonder, how? 

This book is the type of fiction that weaves a thought-provoking story with great social and moral commentary. It is my kind of read: messy, complicated, and realistic (except for the time travel). 

In sum, I think I am southern. Maybe many Americans are?

Kindred is available in print, e-book, and e-audiobook.

Eric is a DIY Instructor and Research Specialist at Elkridge Branch. He enjoys reading, films, music, doing nearly anything outside, and people.

Do the Right Thing

Movie cover for the Spike Lee movie, showing Danny Aiello as Sal and Spike Lee as Mookie, looking up at the camera.  Mookie is holding a pizza box that says "Sal's Famous Pizzeria" and dressed in a work uniform with the red and green colors of the Italian flag.  Sal is wearing a black patterned shirt, white pants, and white tennis shoes.

by Eric L.

As the weather heats up and tensions in America never seem to ebb, I am reminded of the Spike Lee masterpiece (or “joint’ as he prefers to creatively call them), Do the Right Thing. I am surprised by the number of people I speak with who have not seen this film. I am a fan of Lee; I find him humorous, I like his style and his honesty. I also like how much he likes the New York Knicks, despite the fact that they are a fairly disappointing sports franchise. I’m not really sure why I appreciate his devotion to the Knicks, but perhaps I wish I sat courtside at the Washington Wizards’ games (they’re still my Baltimore Bullets). 

Visually the movie is very well done. The whole film takes place on a hot summer day in Brooklyn, New York in the late 1980s. Having spent much time in a southwest Baltimore small business cluster, it seemed pretty true to life and almost stereotypical. The setting is replete with the animosity, resentment, struggle, and misunderstandings of an American multiracial neighborhood. It’s a contentious place. Moreover, it reminds me of just how hot a city feels on the East Coast in summer and how riots often happen on scorching days. Lee creates and presents this masterfully, and the tensions are palpable. Someone I know that spent time in a similar environment, and is rather conservative-minded, claimed that the movie is “spot on.” I concur.

There is the Italian family who owns the pizza shop (Sal’s) for generations, the Asian family that owns the small corner store, (neither of whom presumably live in the neighborhood), the black and Hispanic residents, the white “gentrifying” guy that just bought the brownstone, etc. The scenes with Danny Aiello, Spike Lee, et al. filmed looking at the camera and enumerating racial epithets are raw, stripped down, and very powerful. By the way, you’ll recognize many great actors in the film, giving great performances.  

One of my favorite scenes, which is famous, involves the character that would be me. A young white man carrying his mountain bike, with longish hair, stubble, and running shoes accidentally steps on a black character’s “brand new white Air Jordans.” Then, a very telling exchange and slick commentary on race relations in the U.S. ensues. Like all great comedic moments, it is also tragic.  

There are several references to athletes and race throughout the film. In fact, Lee dons a Jackie Robinson jersey and wears Air Jordan sneakers himself. What’s more, one subtle detail is also clever – the white “gentrifier,” who accidentally mis-steps on the character’s shoes which he “paid $100 for,” is wearing a Larry Bird Boston Celtics jersey shirt. As a side note, if you’re interested in watching an outstanding documentary, check out Magic and Bird: A Courtship of Rivals. Even if you’re not into basketball or sports in general, it is a compelling story about race in America and the relationship of two kindred spirits. As a blonde kid with floppy hair, Larry Bird was my guy in the NBA for sure; however, he had no interest in being the “white savior” America desired. But I digress.

Lee’s examination of his own beliefs and experiences, neighborhood, and America is real art. I would go so far as to say it’s a must-watch for Americans. In sum, Do the Right Thing is a micro-examination of inner-city race relations and how they can easily boil over in the sweltering heat. After watching this film you may ask yourself, how could they not? 

Eric is a DIY Instructor and Research Specialist at Elkridge Branch. He enjoys reading, films, music, doing nearly anything outside, and people.