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Darkest America: Black Minstrelsy from Slavery to Hip-Hop
An exploration and celebration of a controversial tradition that, contrary to popular opinion, is alive and active after more than 150 years.
Yuval Taylor and Jake Austen investigate the complex history of black minstrelsy, adopted in the mid-nineteenth century by African American performers who played the grinning blackface fool to entertain black and white audiences. We now consider minstrelsy an embarrassing relic, but once blacks and whites alike saw it as a black art form—and embraced it as such. And, as the authors reveal, black minstrelsy remains deeply relevant to popular black entertainment, particularly in the work of contemporary artists like Dave Chappelle, Flavor Flav, Spike Lee, and Lil Wayne. Darkest America explores the origins, heyday, and present-day manifestations of this tradition, exploding the myth that it was a form of entertainment that whites foisted on blacks, and shining a sure-to-be controversial light on how these incendiary performances can be not only demeaning but also, paradoxically, liberating.
Yuval Taylor and Jake Austen investigate the complex history of black minstrelsy, adopted in the mid-nineteenth century by African American performers who played the grinning blackface fool to entertain black and white audiences. We now consider minstrelsy an embarrassing relic, but once blacks and whites alike saw it as a black art form—and embraced it as such. And, as the authors reveal, black minstrelsy remains deeply relevant to popular black entertainment, particularly in the work of contemporary artists like Dave Chappelle, Flavor Flav, Spike Lee, and Lil Wayne. Darkest America explores the origins, heyday, and present-day manifestations of this tradition, exploding the myth that it was a form of entertainment that whites foisted on blacks, and shining a sure-to-be controversial light on how these incendiary performances can be not only demeaning but also, paradoxically, liberating.
364 pages, Hardcover
First published August 27, 2012
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341 people want to read
About the author
Yuval Taylor
12 books38 followersYuval Taylor, whose books include Faking It, I Was Born a Slave, The Cartoon Music Book, and The Future of Jazz, lives in Chicago.
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Displaying 1 - 20 of 20 reviews
March 11, 2013
The things this book does well, it does really well. It's worth reading just for the easy to understand description of what a minstrel show was like.
But the question at the heart of the book--Why did black people enjoy black blackface minstrelsy?--never gets a good answer. And I think this is, in part, because they too easily dismiss white blackface minstrelsy as merely racist and full of degrading stereotypes.
It was, but it was also premised on the idea that "black culture" (at least as imagined by whites) had value (though not the value black people might ascribe to it). When all other popular culture treats you as either worthless or non-existent, of course you're going to be attracted to the art that treats your culture as if it has value.
I was surprised that the authors didn't talk about that.
But the question at the heart of the book--Why did black people enjoy black blackface minstrelsy?--never gets a good answer. And I think this is, in part, because they too easily dismiss white blackface minstrelsy as merely racist and full of degrading stereotypes.
It was, but it was also premised on the idea that "black culture" (at least as imagined by whites) had value (though not the value black people might ascribe to it). When all other popular culture treats you as either worthless or non-existent, of course you're going to be attracted to the art that treats your culture as if it has value.
I was surprised that the authors didn't talk about that.
September 13, 2016
Very frustrating read. The conclusion, such as it is, is that almost every performance by African-American artists is subject to devolving into minstrelsy. By not carefully defining terms the author strings together trenchant reviews without posing constructive alternatives. Surely it is not the case that no Black artists have agency or control over their performances. Yes, the pomo observation that the writer/performer loses control of their product once it is perceived by others applies, yet I can't see every performance as just minstrelsy. It also would be helpful to compare and contrast the critiqued performances with racial dynamics elsewhere, such as South Africa and Australia. A start, but no clear finish.
August 5, 2020
So i am doing research on various minstrel traditions, particularly the black face tradition. Ultimately, this book, aimed for popular consumption, is strangely written and the authors do not position themselves well. I appreciate their premise, which is that blackface as a tradition in America is not only disparaging and hateful, but that black people have felt pride and found freedom in using blackface. However, the execution I found fairly poor and unorganized, and ultimately unconvincing (although I do not disagree with the premise!). Chapter 4 on Bert William's is by far the clearest, most well constructed chapter. The poor ethnography at the end of chapter 3 also highlights the amateurish nature of this text.
Now, for the longer review:
These two white authors write a reception history of the complex history of black minstrelsy, in order to understand the impact of black minstrelsy on American culture throughout the 20th century. They are interested in trying to make sense of black enjoyment of black minstrel (re-)productions. In the introduction Watkins outlines three key modes of black engagement with the black minstrel tradition—embracing, signifying on, and attacking/refuting—that are all at play in the text. This text refutes black minstrelsy as a practice of invectivity, marking it instead as a practice of liberation/freedom for performers and audiences. In their re-collection of reception histories, their major aim is to highlight the possibilities of performative outcomes and psychological impacts of black minstrel shows. Their opening chapters (1-3) about the 19th century reads more as conjecture and personal sentiments than historically rigorous writing/research. The middle four chapters (4-7) detail the drastic differences in the 20th century between various black entertainers engaging with black minstrelsy and waxing nostalgic on the tradition. The final three chapters explore the distinction between Southern connections to black minstrel traditions (Hurston, Flavor Flav, and Perry) as compared with northern critics (Wright, Hughes, Lee). The two other crucial points the authors want to hit home is that there is “racial progress” across time and that black entertainers are particularly (perhaps uniquely) brilliant in their performances, which far out-do their white counterparts in terms of cleverness and innovation. Both of these points seem to play into capitalist, neo-liberal narratives of racial uplift through individual talent that rises to the top in free-market competition.
This popular history text has three main issues. The first is a lack of theory or methodological reflection, which would be helpful to the invectivity project. The second is a lack of self-reflection with regard to the authors social fact of whiteness—how does their gaze on these events impact the text? The third is a failure to fully flesh out the liberatory actuality that is referenced. Bert Williams’ pride in his black face persona that tragically performs the sorrows of the human condition (ch 4) or Zora Neale Hurston’s appreciation for black southern dialogue and gestures (ch. 9) highlight a freedom in signifying on white expectations and bringing to the fore authentic, complex black life that conjures a carefree world for black characters where “they could thrive free from whites and their oppressive ways” (276). A blackness that is creative and generative outside of the terror that most cultural critics mark as constitutive of blackness. However, these contours of liberation could be clearer. What they do make clear is that all performances in blackface by whites are inflecting invectivity and further that all-white audiences coerce (by demand/desire) steretotypical, demeaning performances by black artists. In this way, the authors draw a distinction between white and black minstrelsy . Black minstrelsy is characterized as engaging with authentic traditions, using “masking and foolishness [to] provide freedom as well as bondage” (306), for black audience enjoyment, while white blackface minstrelsy is characterized by invectivity. In this way, the book aims to complicate the general idea of invectivity in BFM by considering the long, parrallel history of Black minstrelsy.
Now, for the longer review:
These two white authors write a reception history of the complex history of black minstrelsy, in order to understand the impact of black minstrelsy on American culture throughout the 20th century. They are interested in trying to make sense of black enjoyment of black minstrel (re-)productions. In the introduction Watkins outlines three key modes of black engagement with the black minstrel tradition—embracing, signifying on, and attacking/refuting—that are all at play in the text. This text refutes black minstrelsy as a practice of invectivity, marking it instead as a practice of liberation/freedom for performers and audiences. In their re-collection of reception histories, their major aim is to highlight the possibilities of performative outcomes and psychological impacts of black minstrel shows. Their opening chapters (1-3) about the 19th century reads more as conjecture and personal sentiments than historically rigorous writing/research. The middle four chapters (4-7) detail the drastic differences in the 20th century between various black entertainers engaging with black minstrelsy and waxing nostalgic on the tradition. The final three chapters explore the distinction between Southern connections to black minstrel traditions (Hurston, Flavor Flav, and Perry) as compared with northern critics (Wright, Hughes, Lee). The two other crucial points the authors want to hit home is that there is “racial progress” across time and that black entertainers are particularly (perhaps uniquely) brilliant in their performances, which far out-do their white counterparts in terms of cleverness and innovation. Both of these points seem to play into capitalist, neo-liberal narratives of racial uplift through individual talent that rises to the top in free-market competition.
This popular history text has three main issues. The first is a lack of theory or methodological reflection, which would be helpful to the invectivity project. The second is a lack of self-reflection with regard to the authors social fact of whiteness—how does their gaze on these events impact the text? The third is a failure to fully flesh out the liberatory actuality that is referenced. Bert Williams’ pride in his black face persona that tragically performs the sorrows of the human condition (ch 4) or Zora Neale Hurston’s appreciation for black southern dialogue and gestures (ch. 9) highlight a freedom in signifying on white expectations and bringing to the fore authentic, complex black life that conjures a carefree world for black characters where “they could thrive free from whites and their oppressive ways” (276). A blackness that is creative and generative outside of the terror that most cultural critics mark as constitutive of blackness. However, these contours of liberation could be clearer. What they do make clear is that all performances in blackface by whites are inflecting invectivity and further that all-white audiences coerce (by demand/desire) steretotypical, demeaning performances by black artists. In this way, the authors draw a distinction between white and black minstrelsy . Black minstrelsy is characterized as engaging with authentic traditions, using “masking and foolishness [to] provide freedom as well as bondage” (306), for black audience enjoyment, while white blackface minstrelsy is characterized by invectivity. In this way, the book aims to complicate the general idea of invectivity in BFM by considering the long, parrallel history of Black minstrelsy.
April 24, 2018
I appreciate the reviews written by Betsy Phillips and Oliver Bateman.
I read the book -- not having (yet?) viewed most of the performances cited -- hoping to understand what is going on under this umbrella of sensitive or unapproachable topics. For cultures not of the USA, minstrelsy is an unknown; It has seemed to appear at times people wanted to dress like their guests or hosts to .... show them their differences are respected by trying to be more like, because people are comfortable with their own in-group. Cue the outcry of the offended. Is there a world history book which might include many similar cultural offenses? Or does "history" means sovereign states while "sociology" covers culture?
My take-away is no matter how racist it is to act out stereotypes, the performer can subvert it to their own ends (such as the joy of performing, earning an income, or making fun of the stereotyped/stereotyper as applicable). Further, performers (whether stereotyped or stereotyper) are freed of social conventions while on stage.
With my new, limited understanding of this mocking art form, I wonder what about humor permits self-deprecation but prohibits pretending to be self-deprecating in order to point out the very same absurdity of the situation or stereotypes. Happily, Oliver Bateman identified a tome that may yield an answer for me: Mel Watkin's On The Real Side.
I read the book -- not having (yet?) viewed most of the performances cited -- hoping to understand what is going on under this umbrella of sensitive or unapproachable topics. For cultures not of the USA, minstrelsy is an unknown; It has seemed to appear at times people wanted to dress like their guests or hosts to .... show them their differences are respected by trying to be more like, because people are comfortable with their own in-group. Cue the outcry of the offended. Is there a world history book which might include many similar cultural offenses? Or does "history" means sovereign states while "sociology" covers culture?
My take-away is no matter how racist it is to act out stereotypes, the performer can subvert it to their own ends (such as the joy of performing, earning an income, or making fun of the stereotyped/stereotyper as applicable). Further, performers (whether stereotyped or stereotyper) are freed of social conventions while on stage.
With my new, limited understanding of this mocking art form, I wonder what about humor permits self-deprecation but prohibits pretending to be self-deprecating in order to point out the very same absurdity of the situation or stereotypes. Happily, Oliver Bateman identified a tome that may yield an answer for me: Mel Watkin's On The Real Side.
October 4, 2021
Here's a subject I've never thought much about - not minstrelsy in general, but the specific notion of African-American participation in it. Taylor and Austen explore it in depth, and they point out the ambiguity of it's hurtful and hilarious aspects. Covering the 19th century comedians who built on the white formal stereotypes to create somewhat more complex roles, on to Bert Williams who became one of America's most beloved entertainers, on to the complicated story of the TV sitcom version of Amos'n'Andy, and the historically varied reactions to Zora Neale Hurston's Their Eyes Were Watching God, and the 60s reactions to minstrelsy with the creation of perfect Black figures, then the reaction to that with the exaggerated characteristics of the likes of J.J. Walker, and then along comes hip hop and gangsta rap (which they argue is not minstrelsy in the way that much Southern rap is), and closing with Spike Lee's Bamboozled, the book looks at the subject in depth and with great attention to different viewpoints which can be equally valid.
It's a little unfortunate that it was published just before all the quotes from Bill Cosby came to seem problematic because of his horrific sexual behavior. It does give a lot of credit to a lot of talented people while acknowledging that what they did could be hurtful at the same time it was entertaining - there was a big difference who was in the audience.
It's a little unfortunate that it was published just before all the quotes from Bill Cosby came to seem problematic because of his horrific sexual behavior. It does give a lot of credit to a lot of talented people while acknowledging that what they did could be hurtful at the same time it was entertaining - there was a big difference who was in the audience.
May 13, 2019
What this book did for me was to expose me to concepts and cultural allusions I'd never heard of before. Some of them I had heard of but very infrequently. I'm reviewing this a few years after I read it but it doesn't necessarily resonate on any level, except, general interest for me. It also offered some other readings which might better contextualize the content. As someone not versed in any kind of analysis of comedy, I'm loathe to say read it or not. It's accessible and certainly a starting point.
August 2, 2022
Thought-provoking analysis of the legacy of the minstrel tradition, especially on the transition from white to black performers. The authors examine a number of elements/scenarios in the 20th Century, give an overview of Bert Williams, examine television programs/performers, use Zora Neale Hurston's legacy, and look at the relationship between minstrelsy and hip-hop.
While there are no clear pronouncements, this book does raise interesting questions and challenges assumptions concerning the historical view of the minstrel tradition.
While there are no clear pronouncements, this book does raise interesting questions and challenges assumptions concerning the historical view of the minstrel tradition.
April 19, 2022
Very interesting and detailed book, I learned a lot of information I didn't previously know and when I fact checked information the authors did a great job in showing both sides to a story and being unbiased.
November 9, 2022
It's ok
The authors clearly did their homework regarding the history on minstrelsy. But I was definitely looking for a lot more, like a better connection shown between minstrelsy and today's entertainment.
The authors clearly did their homework regarding the history on minstrelsy. But I was definitely looking for a lot more, like a better connection shown between minstrelsy and today's entertainment.
November 15, 2022
See my findings on the first minstrel performers in an essay called "The Contradictions of Minstrelsy: Jim Crow, Zip Coon, and Gumbo Chaff" available at https://williamseaton.blogspot.com/20....
abandoned
February 18, 2020I simply lost interest. May return to it someday.
August 5, 2015
Two white dudes, Yuval Taylor and Jake Austen, decided to tackle minstrelsy's complicated history in an accessible work that takes the subject right up to the present, and here's what we got. It's not bad, really: there's good info here, the Zulu Krewe chapter is a nice bit of hands-on reportage rarely seen in these things, and their work on Flavor Flav is better than what I've seen elsewhere. But at the end of the day, there's not much "there there," if ya know what I mean. It's a couple hours of interesting reading by two total outsiders to the subject. Mel Watkins, who authored the foreword to this book, wrote a much better history of African-American humor (which I'm still reading; it's a massive tome)...if you're pressed for time, start there. But yeah, this exceeded expectations.
January 16, 2016
I learned a lot about minstrel shows and minstrelsy, but I really didn't think the book connected to hip hop well or adequately, and the last few chapters somewhat felt like padding. The discussion of Zora Neale Hurston, and Their Eyes Were Watching God specifically, wasn't substantial enough to convince me of their argument, and it was so out of order in terms of the chronological structure of this book that it seemed like a strange, accidental editorial decision.
The section discussing Bill Cosby's influence on television was especially heartbreaking, given the scandals surrounding him. His legacy has likely been tarnished beyond repair, which is such a loss for many reasons.
The section discussing Bill Cosby's influence on television was especially heartbreaking, given the scandals surrounding him. His legacy has likely been tarnished beyond repair, which is such a loss for many reasons.
September 27, 2012
interesting read on the past and present application of black minstrel characterization as well as which ones were inherently racist and what was not. To me it is very intriguing the dynamics surrounding comedy turning from discomfortable performance to blatant racist, which is both subtle and shocking. I'd be interesting to dialogue book club fashion around this book with those that are nonwhite.
May 26, 2015
Very interesting history of a key element of American pop culture.
Suffers some from repeatedly citing Bill Cosby as a thoughtful critic of minstrelsy -- it really dates the book to coming out before Cosby's scandal broke out.
Suffers some from repeatedly citing Bill Cosby as a thoughtful critic of minstrelsy -- it really dates the book to coming out before Cosby's scandal broke out.
October 16, 2012
Illuminating and enlightening on a subject about which I already knew a lot. I will certainly never view certain aspects of hip hop the same way again.
December 16, 2012
It has some dry part early on, but once it got to the history I was familiar with, it was more interesting.
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April 1, 2013791.12097 T2477 2012
April 21, 2014
Okay--a bit disjointed in its arguments/examples which left me constantly wondering what exactly the thesis was. Love and Theft will still be the go to book on minstrelsy for me.
May 7, 2015
Lots to like in this.
Displaying 1 - 20 of 20 reviews