We got stickup kids, corrupt cops..

Grave Digger was called upon to speak. He stood up and looked at his map and said, "Brothers, this map is older than me. If you go back to this Africa you got to go by way of the grave." No one understood what he meant, but they applauded anyway. The next day Harlem's ace detectives were cited by the commissioner for bravery beyond the call of duty, but no raise came forth. (pg. 157)


This passage was one of those rare occasions where I straight underlined as soon as my eyes passed over the words. At first skim it holds the typical conclusive tone of any crime drama -- the detectives put their guns back in the hostlers, smiles breaking their stone-serious faces with hands rubbing temples or resting on hips. Right under the surface, however, are the stereotypes, the messages of race and an era that is difficult to change or shift in a new, more positive direction. The position of the people of Harlem throughout the novel has been obviously stated -- the reader must get it, cannot do anything but get it. In this passage in the most blatant of ways Grave Digger in two sentences is able to debunk the back-to-Africa movement, staying polite, staying logical. Immediately following his words, Himes sticks with the terse writing and conveys an even crueler, darker message, one of ignorance, of a continuous sheep-like following even after the entire Deke mess -- "No one understood what he meant, but they applauded anyway." And as a final dampening message, the detectives get verbal praise but no pay raise, which, given the life and times and what they had to endure, would be far more beneficial than any handshake or medal. What I want to discuss is whether the twinge of negativity and perpetuation as an undercurrent in the novel is a commentary on the poor state of the real world, thus hoping to prompt change, or a jaded acceptance of the way things are, the way things are stuck to be.

and just because:



"...It's been twenty-two long hard years of still strugglin
Survival got me buggin, but I'm alive on arrival
I peep at the shape of the streets
And stay awake to the ways of the world cause shit is deep
A man with a dream with plans to make C.R.E.A.M.
Which failed; I went to jail at the age of 15
A young buck sellin drugs and such who never had much
Trying to get a clutch at what I could not... could not...
The court played me short, now I face incarceration
Pacin -- going up state's my destination
Handcuffed in back of a bus, forty of us
Life as a shorty shouldn't be so rough
But as the world turns I learned life is hell
Living in the world no different from a cell
Everyday I escape from Jakes givin chase, sellin base
Smokin bones in the staircase
Though I don't know why I chose to smoke sess
I guess that's the time when I'm not depressed
But I'm still depressed, and I ask what's it worth?
Ready to give up so I seek the Old Earth
Who explained working hard may help you maintain
to learn to overcome the heartaches and pain
We got stickup kids, corrupt cops, and crack rocks
and stray shots, all on the block that stays hot
Leave it up to me while I be living proof
To kick the truth to the young black youth
But shorty's running wild smokin sess drinkin beer
And ain't trying to hear what I'm kickin in his ear
Neglected, but now, but yo, it gots to be accepted
That what? That life is hectic."