More than fifty years after Frederick Douglass wrote the Narrative, W.E.B. DuBois, in “The Souls of Black Folk (1994),” wrote that Blacks are “born with a veil and gifted with second-sight in this American world—a world which yields him no true self-consciousness, but only lets him see himself through the revelation of the other world” (p.2). More than one hundred years later, the revelations of that other world are still the standard by which we see and attempt to understand Black people. In this instance, Frederick Douglass’s Narrative falls awkwardly into two American literary genres-Captivity and Autobiography. As a slave narrative, this work exceeds the limitations of Captivity, as slavery and captivity have only one thing in common—they both share a lack of freedom. The work also exceeds the limits of autobiography. African-American philosopher Lewis Gordon (2000) says that personal experience becomes relevant only when it can transcend the individual (Kindle Edition location 476, 484). The Narrative, unlike most autobiographies, does just that and gives us a picture of the American system of slavery. The Narrative exposes many of the myriad trials and troubles of slavery, as well as the ugliness that most of us would rather forget or not know; however, the Narrative offers up two prominent themes held near and dear in America—that of freedom and literacy. Freedom to the slave means much more than it does to one held captive. Literacy for the slave is different as well. An autobiography which details one’s learning serves the purpose of showing one’s authority to write about one’s self. Douglass, on the other hand, writes of his learning in autobiographical form to show how literacy relates to freedom. There rests a heavy burden on the slave who becomes literate and understands freedom. No such burden exists for the captive or autobiographer.
Captivity, as John Williams (1976) told of it, began with a kidnapping from a home in a peaceful town. “The enemy immediately broke into the room” says Williams, and after his gun jammed “was seized…disarmed and bound” (p.444). Slavery, on the other hand, as Douglass tells it, started with “the blood-stained gate, the entrance to the hell of slavery, through which [he had] to pass” (p. 4). Unlike Williams’ capture, Douglass’ entry into slavery came as a result of his birth. Where Williams knew freedom prior to his kidnapping, Douglass only knew the freedom of a very short childhood, his entry into slavery being a forgone conclusion. Autobiographical writings involve a certain amount of vanity as one is speaking of one’s self. Ben Franklin (1771), in his autobiography says he “gives [vanity] fair Quarter wherever [he] meet[s] with it” (p. 753). Where Franklin acknowledges and embraces vanity, Douglass does not, nor can he. Writing reluctantly, believing “that he was not adequate to the performance of so great a task” (p. ix), Douglass humbly “hope[s] that [his] little book may do something toward throwing light on the American slave system” (p. 76). The light Douglass throws in the Narrative reflects freedom gained through literacy. In order to understand this, it is necessary to shed the confining cloak of American literary genres and engage the perspective as given. In “Existentia Africana”, Lewis Gordon (2000) states that “a slave’s situation can only be understood…through recognizing the fact that a slave experiences it; it is to regard the slave as a perspective in the world” (Kindle Edition, location 163, 171). It is from this perspective that any literacy analysis must come. The perspective of the American slave cannot be seen without slavery. Douglass’s hope to shed light on the system with his Narrative makes this all too clear. The telling of his life as a slave is the same as telling of slavery itself. The slave and slavery must reside together if one is to understand the slave perspective. To do less would be to reduce the Narrative to the subhuman status with which slavers regarded their slaves. This we must not do. The slave barely has enough to eat; only one set of clothing per year; works from sunup to sundown without pay; gets little or no sleep and that on the ground; and any sign of disobedience draws the whip. There is no end to this. A slave is so for life. From this perspective, freedom and literacy take on a meaning that transcends both captivity and autobiography. In captivity and autobiography, freedom and literacy are a hope and a given. In slavery, neither is available even as a hope, unless that Providence should shine upon the slave. In Douglass’s case, Providence did indeed shine. A lengthy quote is here required as Douglass explains that his Baltimore Mistress, Mrs. Auld had begun teaching him letters. Upon learning of this, Mr. Auld unconditionally forbade it saying If you give a nigger an inch, he will take an ell. A nigger should know nothing but to obey his master—to do as he is told to do. Learning would spoil the best nigger in the world…if you teach that nigger…how to read, there would be no keeping him. It would forever unfit him to be a slave. He would at once become unmanageable, and of no value to his master. As to himself, it could do him no good, but a great deal of harm. It would make him discontented and unhappy. (p.20, emphasis in original) Upon hearing this, Douglass knew that this was “the pathway from slavery to freedom” (p.20). For the slave, there is no freedom without literacy and no literacy without freedom. To forbid literacy in slavery is to forbid freedom from slavery. To be a slaveholder means to forbid freedom and literacy. Acquiring literacy for a slave was too dangerous and far more burdensome for most slaves and there was no guarantee that learning would lead to freedom. Patricia McKissack, African-American researcher and author of children’s books, paints a dramatic picture of both the dangers and burdens in her Dear America series dramatization titled “A Picture of Freedom: The Diary of Clotee, A Slave Girl” (1997). Clotee, has learned to read and write. Unlike Douglass, whose mistress began the lessons, Clotee was the slave in charge of fanning while her mistress taught. Where Douglass learned that learning was the path to freedom, Clotee had little understanding writing “Wonder why the white folks is so determined to keep us from knowin’ things? What are they scared of?” (p.4). However, Clotee knows that learning is against the law and sees the irony of her learning as she writes “Cain’t help but laugh a little bit when I think of what Mas’ Henley would think if he knew I could read better than his boy—and that it was his own wife that had teached me!” (p.4). In “A Picture of Freedom” Clotee writes words that give her a picture. Every word that is except Freedom. For that Clotee has no picture. For Clotee, learning happened by accident, but she couldn’t leave her learning alone. Just as Douglass was motivated to learn because it was the path to freedom, so too did Clotee continue learning in search of freedom. Both Douglass and Clotee found freedom in slavery, though in very different forms and ways. Douglass gives us a dramatic account of his fight with slave-breaker Covey in Chapter ten calling it “the turning-point in my career as slave” (p.43). It should be noted that Douglass, writing in hindsight, calls his term of slavery a “career,” a rather clear indication that his career has since changed. In fact, this turning-point was when Douglass knew he would not be a slave for a life. “It was a glorious resurrection, from the tomb of slavery, to the heaven of freedom” he declares. “I now resolved that, however long I might remain a slave in form, the day had passed forever when I could be a slave in fact” (p.43). By contrast, Clotee found her freedom by becoming a conductor on the Underground Railroad and she writes “There’s time to write a few words. I have decided to begin with F-R-E-E-D-O-M. Freedom. I let the memory pictures take shape in my mind…I remembered the little girl I’d helped the night before and I smiled…For the first time freedom showed me a clear picture. A picture of me” (p.169). As slavery is unique to the slave and slave owner, so too is freedom and literacy. For the slave it is never either or. It is not if then. For the slave, literacy is freedom for it is knowledge that separates mankind from the beast. For the slave owner, freedom and literacy of the slave would be to the owner’s disgrace for it is knowledge that separates mankind from the beast. Douglass’s Narrative paints a clear picture of this struggle. And while Douglass narrates his slavery career with 20/20 hindsight, giving voice to the mysteries of childhood, he also lets us know, in no uncertain terms, that even though slaves were denied freedom and literacy, slaves were, and are, people, regardless of how they were treated. This is why it is important to treat the slave perspective as a genre all its own. The Narrative is the narration of the life of a slave. While it is American Literature, it cannot be classified as anything that is categorized as American literature. American literature’s classifications do not classify Black literature as American. Black American literature is set apart from American literature in the same way American history is separated from Black American history, even though both happened simultaneously and in conjunction with each other. Placing the Narrative into the Captivity and Autobiography genres only serves to perpetuate the duality of Black people in America. The duality is only overcome when we finally recognize that the American slave system ceased its African origins and created, through the system, the Black American. This is the race whose writings are steeped in the Black American tradition passed down from American slavery and the very reason that American literary genres find no place to classify it. Comments are closed.
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