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Uncle Remus by Norman Rockwell |
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Uncle Remus in Song of the South singing Zipadeedoodah |
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Good Soldier Svejk drunk, singing, in jail |
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Good Soldier Svejk pleads for his life |
"I hate
it when people play the race card all the time."
"I don't
see any racism in that. It was a story for children. It reminds me of my
childhood. It gave me a warm feeling. It was funny."
"I can't
wait for everyone who was alive in 1946 to die. Because we are young people and
we see the world differently. Everything is not about race to us. It is normal
for us to hang out with people of different races."
"No
matter what the makers of this film did, the race baiters would criticize it. Like
that creepy Al Sharpton."
At the
mention of Al Sharpton, other students grumble.
Three of the
four speakers, above, were African American students. I'd just shown them clips
from the "banned," allegedly racist, Walt Disney film "Song of
the South."
I show these
clips every semester. I never tell the students in advance what I am about to
show.
I ask them,
after the lights come up, to write two things: an objective description of what
they just saw, and a subjective account of how it made them feel.
They watch a
scene in which a little white boy runs away from his Southern home. He is
rescued by Uncle Remus, an elderly black man. Uncle Remus tells the boy the
story of Br'er Rabbit, and his attempt to run away, and how that attempt ended
badly.
Uncle Remus
uses this frame story to teach the boy that "you can't run away from your
trouble."
"Song of
the South" is condemned as racist because Uncle Remus is happy, he is
integrated with whites, and he is meek. He is not a warrior. He doesn't fight
against white supremacy for black liberation. Also, he speaks in dialect
typical of former slaves from the American South.
When I've
shown this clip in the past, this is usually what happens. Most students say
that they liked the clip. They like it as a colorful, funny, educational
entertainment for young children. They find the song "Zip a dee doo
dah" to be catchy and upbeat.
One or two
students, though, will find the clip horribly racist and offensive and wrong.
This is the first
time I've shown the clip that not a single student described the clip as racist.
A third of my
class identifies as African American. They were the loudest and most adamant in
defending the clip, and condemning race baiting.
I once remarked
to a superior on campus, "You know, my African American students often are
not very radical. They often have old fashioned values. They often voice
respect for hard work and impatience with race baiting. Many think that people
should be allowed to keep the fruits of their labor rather than pay high taxes
for welfare programs."
My superior
said to me that it was my job to instill radicalism in my students. To steer
them onto the correct, leftist, path.
I don't
agree. I think it's my job to help my students be themselves.
Below please
find a previous blog post describing a very different screening of "Song
of the South."
***
You are in a
college classroom. The professor tells you that she is about to show you a film
clip. After you finish viewing it, she wants you to write two paragraphs. The
first paragraph will record the objective facts of what you just saw: the who,
what, when, where, why, and how. The second paragraph will record your feelings
about what you saw.
Something
about the professor's attitude has you a bit scared. There is tension in the
dark classroom. You are anxious. What are you about to see?
In fact,
though, the film clip turns out to contain no sex or violence or sedition. It's
a clip from a 1940's Disney film. It's set in the South, probably sometime in
the late nineteenth century. A very cute little boy is running away from home.
He happens across an elderly black man who takes the boy to his cabin and tells
him a story about Br'er Rabbit. Br'er Rabbit runs away from home and almost
falls into the clutches of Br'er Fox, but, through his wits, manages to escape
at the last minute. The fable warns the boy that running away from home won't
solve his problems. The old man sings a peppy song, "Zip a dee doo dah."
The boy is delighted.
The film clip
ends. The screen goes up; the classroom lights come back on.
You breathe a
sigh of relief. That was a simple enough film clip. Nothing scary. It's easy
enough to write up the two paragraphs. You liked the sweetness and
sentimentality of the film, and think that it would be good for small children,
but it's not your cup of tea.
The teacher
tells students to put down their pens. She asks for student reactions.
Explosion.
An African
American student is outraged. She hasn't spoken much all semester. Today she speaks
rapidly, angrily and loudly. The film is racist, insulting and demeaning. It is
part of white supremacy. Just watching the clip has poisoned the whole class.
The student
holds her hand to her chest. She had been shy for most of the semester.
Speaking has obviously cost her some effort. She glares at the class. Who will
support her? Who will dare to disagree and support this racist film? Who are
the racists in class? Her eyes seem to defy anyone to disagree.
A white
student, an outspoken feminist and English major, joins in. She's heard about
this evil film and denounces it roundly. "Disney banned 'Song of the
South'!" She shouts. Not really. Disney has not released it on DVD. You
can watch the film on youtube.
You were
going to raise your hand and contribute to the discussion, but now you are
nervous. "What's wrong with me?" you think. "Why didn't I
realize that I was watching an evil film?" You shrug and wait for the
discussion to boil over.
Some
students, obviously flabbergasted, look to the teacher. What is the approved
reaction? What reaction will earn the highest grade?
***
I've been
showing this same clip from Walt Disney's 1946 film "Song of the
South" for some years now.
Two aspects
of this oft-repeated scenario frighten and educate me.
One: Many students don't know the difference
between thoughts and feelings. Students produce meaningless sentences like:
"I feel that this is good for children." "I think that I enjoyed
this."
What's more
troubling – much more troubling – the
students who react most vehemently to "Song of the South" often can't
describe the objective facts of what they saw.
Really. They
cannot tell you what they saw. They cannot tell you what Disney put on the
screen.
What can they
say? "I am outraged. That is racist. I've been victimized. That is racist.
I'm very hurt. That is racist."
"What?
Tell me, what specific feature of 'Song of the South' is racist?"
"It's
racist, I'm telling you. Don't tell me you like that movie. It's racist."
"What?
What aspect of the film is racist?"
"It's
racist! I'm hurt!"
"Okay. I
get it that you are hurt. That's subjective. That's emotions. It's good that
you can report that. Let's turn to the objective, to consensus reality. What
specific aspect of the film is racist to you? Is it that Uncle Remus speaks in a
Southern black dialect? Is it that he is wearing shabby clothes? What specific
feature strikes you as racist, and why?"
"You are white! You cannot know
how much that film hurts me! It's racist and we should not watch it!"
I've had the
conversation, described above.
I want to
change it. I don't want to make students who don't like "Song of the
South" like it. I want students, all students, to know how to
differentiate thoughts from feelings. I want students to be able to say, with
specificity, what feature of a work of art makes it a racist work of art, and
why. I don't want anyone to use a sense of victimization as a weapon to
intimidate, bully and silence others. "I am hurt and my people have been
hurt; therefore, you must agree with me." That approach denigrates and
circumvents thought, scholarship, and why we have college classrooms in the
first place.
I fear,
though, that previous teachers have rewarded by students for that stance of
public outrage. Whipping up outrage is a practice of political agitators; it is
not the best strategy for real teachers. Too many teachers today are eager to
whip up outrage, and resist actually supplying students with problem-solving
skills.
Two: Students can be intimidated into saying
what appears to be the most politically advantageous thing.
My students
write down their reaction to "Song of the South" before they know
what other students will say. The vast majority of students – over ninety
percent – report that the film is a sentimental tale for children, a typical
Disney cartoon. Only about ten percent, in their written work, allege that the
film is racist.
When
classroom discussion begins, those who object to "Song of the South"
are often the most vocal. The majority of students who found the film sweet and
old fashioned often look confused. Were we supposed to find this film racist?
I strive to
remain neutral. When the students who object to the film speak, I write their
points on the blackboard. It's frightening and depressing to me to view the
facial expressions of many, but not all, of the students who liked the film.
Some of them appear to be deciding that they, too, will find the film racist –
not because they really believe that it is, but because that is the politically
advantageous stance to take.
I fear that
if I took a strong stance that "Song of the South" is a racist film,
some students might parrot that stance – not because they really believe it,
but because the teacher says so.
***
Me? I see
both sides. I see why some object to "Song of the South." I see why
others embrace it. I strive to present both sides to my students.
BUT the
important thing is this – however students feel about "Song of the
South," the best teachers, and the best education, will not indoctrinate
them into parroting the teacher's stance. It will not browbeat them and bully
them with others' suffering to adopt an opinion that is not their own.
Rather, the
best teachers, and the best education will encourage students to separate facts
from feelings. The best teachers, and the best education, will equip students
to make their point using objective facts.
***
I'm not
black. I'm Slovak. We are also the oppressed. I told my students, who have
never heard of Slovakia, that, historically, Slovaks have been peasants who are
invaded and massacred and oppressed. I told them about Lidice, a village the
Nazis wiped out. I told them about Soviet tanks rolling in to crush Prague
Spring.
I told my
students that we greatly admire a folk hero named Good Soldier Svejk. Svejk is
fat, unshaven, and a slob. He gets drunk and behaves stupidly. And he is our
hero.
Why?
My students
totally understand. Of course people who are oppressed and massacred would want
a hero who is a Wise Fool, a man who keeps his head down and displays his
intelligence in ways that appear foolish, a charming subversive.
Can you
understand, then, I ask, why Uncle Remus is a Wise Fool? And why some might
admire him, even though his clothes are shabby and he does not speak Standard
English?
Hmmm … maybe.
***
A couple of
good scholarly articles about Joel Chandler Harris and Uncle Remus:
"The
Ultimate Irrelevance of Race: Joel Chandler Harris and Uncle Remus in Their
Times" by Wayne Mixon, here.
"Black
Father: The Subversive Achievement of Joel Chandler Harris" by Robert
Cochran, here.