George S. Schuyler, The Negro-Art Hokum 1926

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In “The Negro-Art Hokum,” George S. Schuyler stands squarely against the
notion of a separate and distinct “Negro art” animating much of the work of the
Harlem, or New Negro, Renaissance. By implication, he also takes on W.E.B. Du
Bois’s notion of the black American’s “twoness.” “Aside from his color,” Schuyler
claims, “your American Negro is just plain American.” The contention that black
American art reflects anything other than American experiences and
conditions–something that it is somehow “African,” for example–is little more
than a marketing tool for selling products. In this sense, it is pure American
“hokum.” In so far as it reflects the abiding myth that there are “`fundamental,
eternal, and inescapable differences’ between white and black Americans,” it is
another form of racism “and must be rejected with a loud guffaw by intelligent
people.” “The Negro-Art Hokum” was first published in the June 16, 1926, issue
of the Nation. It should be compared with Langston Hughes’s “The Negro Artist
and the Racial Mountain,” which appeared in the same magazine the following
week.

 


Negro art “made in America” is as non-existent as the widely advertised

profundity of Cal Coolidge, the “seven years of progress” of Mayor Hylan,

or the reported sophistication of New Yorkers. Negro art there has been, is,

and will be among the numerous black nations of Africa; but to suggest the

possibility of any such development among the ten million colored people in

this republic is self-evident foolishness. Eager apostles from Greenwich

Village, Harlem, and environs proclaimed a great renaissance of Negro art

just around the corner waiting to be ushered on the scene by those whose

hobby is taking races, nations, peoples, and movements under their wing.

New art forms expressing the “peculiar” psychology of the Negro were about

to flood the market. In short, the art of Homo Africanus was about to

electrify the waiting world. Skeptics patiently waited. They still wait.

True, from dark-skinned sources have come those slave songs based on

Protestant hymns and Biblical texts known as the spirituals, work songs and

secular songs of sorrow and tough luck known as the blues, that outgrowth

of rag-time known as jazz (in the development of which whites have assisted),

and the Charleston, an eccentric dance invented by the gamins around the

public market-place in Charleston, S.C. No one can or does deny this. But

these are contributions of a caste in a certain section of the country. They are

foreign to Northern Negroes, West Indian Negroes, and African Negroes.

They are no more expressive or characteristic of the Negro race than the

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music and dancing of the Appalachian highlanders or the Dalmatian

peasantry are expressive or characteristic of the Caucasian race. If one wishes

to speak of the musical contributions of the peasantry of the South, very well.

Any group under similar circumstances would have produced something

similar. It is merely a coincidence that this peasant class happens to be of a

darker hue than the other inhabitants of the land. One recalls the

remarkable likeness of the minor strains of the Russian mujiks to those of the

Southern Negro.

As for the literature, painting, and sculpture of Aframericans–such as there

is–it is identical in kind with the literature, painting, and sculpture of white

Americans: that is, it shows more or less evidence of European influence. In

the field of drama little of any merit has been written by and about Negroes

that could not have been written by whites. The dean of the Aframerican

literati is W. E. B. Du Bois, a product of Harvard and German universities;

the foremost Aframerican sculptor is Meta Warwick Fuller, a graduate of

leading American art schools and former student of Rodin; while the most

noted Aframerican painter, Henry Ossawa Tanner, is dean of American

painters in Paris and has been decorated by the French Government. Now

the work of these artists is no more “expressive of the Negro soul”–as the

gushers put it–than are the scribblings of Octavus Cohen or Hugh Wiley.

This, of course, is easily understood if one stops to realize that the

Aframerican is merely a lampblacked Anglo-Saxon. If the European

immigrant after two or three generations of exposure to our schools, politics,

advertising, moral crusades, and restaurants becomes indistinguishable from

the mass of Americans of the older stock (despite the influence of the

foreign-language press), how much truer must it be of the sons of Ham who

have been subjected to what the uplifters call Americanism for the last three

hundred years. Aside from his color, which ranges from very dark brown to

pink, your American Negro is just plain American. Negroes and whites from

the same localities in this country talk, think, and act about the same.

Because a few writers with a paucity of themes have seized upon imbecilities

of the Negro rustics and clowns and palmed them off as authentic and

characteristic Aframerican behavior, the common notion that the black

American is so “different” from his white neighbor has gained wide currency.

The mere mention of the word “Negro” conjures up in the average white

American’s mind a composite stereotype of Bert Williams, Aunt Jemima,

Uncle Tom, Jack Johnson, Florian Slappey, and the various monstrosities

scrawled by the cartoonists. Your average Aframerican no more resembles

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this stereotype than the average American resembles a composite of Andy

Gump, Jim Jeffries, and a cartoon by Rube Goldberg.

Again, the Africamerican is subject to the same economic and social forces

that mold the actions and thoughts of the white Americans. He is not living

in a different world as some whites and a few Negroes would have us believe.

When the jangling of his Connecticut alarm clock gets him out of his Grand

Rapids bed to a breakfast similar to that eaten by his white brother across the

street; when he toils at the same or similar work in mills, mines, factories,

and commerce alongside the descendants of Spartacus, Robin Hood, and

Eric the Red; when he wears similar clothing and speaks the same language

with the same degree of perfection; when he reads the same Bible and

belongs to the Baptist, M ethodist, Episcopal, or Catholic church; when his

fraternal affiliations also include the Elks, Masons, and Knights of Pythias;

when he gets the same or similar schooling, lives in the same kind of houses,

owns the same makes of cars (or rides in them), and nightly sees the same

Hollywood version of life on the screen; when he smokes the same brands of

tobacco, and avidly peruses the same puerile periodicals; in short, when he

responds to the same political, social, moral, and economic stimuli in

precisely the same manner as his white neighbor, it is sheer nonsense to talk

about “racial differences” as between the American black man and the

American white man. Glance over a Negro newspaper (it is printed in good

Americanese) and you will find the usual quota of crime news, scandal,

personals, and uplift to be found in the average white newspaper–which, by

the way, is more widely read by the Negroes than is the Negro press. In

order to satisfy the cravings of an inferiority complex engendered by the

colorphobia of the mob, the readers of the Negro newspapers are given a

slight dash of racialistic seasoning. In the homes of the black and white

Americans of the same cultural and economic level one finds similar

furniture, literature, and conversation. How, then, can the black American

be expected to produce art and literature dissimilar to that of the white

American?

Consider Coleridge-Taylor, Edward Wilmot Blyden, and Claude McKay, the

Englishmen; Pushkin, the Russian; Bridgewater, the Pole; Antar, the

Arabian; Latino, the Spaniard; Dumas, pere and fils, the Frenchmen; and

Paul Laurence Dunbar, Charles W. Chesnutt, and James Weldon Johnson,

the Americans. All Negroes; yet their work shows the impress of nationality

rather than race. They all reveal the psychology and culture of their

environment–their color is incidental. Why should Negro artists of America

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vary from the national artistic norm when Negro artists in other countries

have not done so? If we can foresee what kind of white citizens will inhabit

this neck of the woods in the next generation by studying the sort of

education and environment the children are exposed to now, it should not

be difficult to reason that the adults of today are what they are because of the

education and environment they were exposed to a generation ago. And that

education and environment were about the same for blacks and whites. One

contemplates the popularity of the Negro-art hokum and murmurs, “How

come?”

This nonsense is probably the last stand of the old myth palmed off by

Negrophobists for all these many years, and recently rehashed by the sainted

Harding, that there are “fundamental, eternal, and inescapable differences”

between white and black Americans. That there are Negroes who will lend

this myth a helping hand need occasion no surprise. It has been broadcast

all over the world by the vociferous scions of slaveholders, “scientists” like

Madison Grant and Lothrop Stoddard, and the patriots who flood the

treasury of the Ku Klux Klan; and is believed, even today, by the majority of

free, white citizens. On this baseless premise, so flattering to the white mob,

that the blackamoor is inferior and fundamentally different, is erected the

postulate that he must needs be peculiar; and when he attempts to portray

life through the medium of art, it must of necessity be a peculiar art. While

such reasoning may seem conclusive to the majority of Americans, it must be

rejected with a loud guffaw by intelligent people.

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