A Literary Genealogy (part 1)

Street literature is not new, so why are people acting like this stuff just appeared out of nowhere for the sole purpose of derailing the black community?

It is not hard to understand, why, as a community we are concerned about the proliferation of the street novel on the bookstore shelves and in the book bags of our children. But there is a dimension of this literature that begs for discussion in the academic arena.

As a community we are concerned with the fact that the African American readership is connecting to these novels in a way that they don’t connect to the writings of the academy. Cora Daniels, in her book GhettoNation: dispatches from America’s culture war, registers her disgust at the momentum these novels have gained in the last ten years. “When did our standards get so low that we are now satisfied with simply reading? It s like being satisfied that our children are eating vegetables because they pour ketchup on their fries” (84). Her concern, and rightly so, is that these novels will become the reading standard for young black readers, that rather than a bridge to other, more interesting and thought provoking literature , that the books will become an end unto themselves. That would be unfortunate. What she missed, however, was the opportunity the literate community has to harness the energy and details of this writing and turn it into something useful, to open a dialogue between generations about life in general. This literature has a historical context and knowing that context can make this overtly sexual and violent literature relevant.

The street novels of today are the same thing they’ve always been, merely an undiluted portrayal of the life of the disenfranchised. That being the case, slave narratives can be considered street literature. But let’s start with something simpler, easier to wrap the mind around. In 1902 Paul Laurence Dunbar published a novel called "The Sport of the Gods". Dunbar is most noted for his poetry and not a lot of people are aware that he ever even published any novels but it’s there. And it’s as close to the street literature of today as you’re probably going to get in 1902. And it gets quite close.

The story follows the Hamiltons from their position as a well to do black family in the south to a struggling shell of their former selves in the north.

If the writers of the slave narratives are the literary ancestors of the writers of urban street fiction, then Berry and Fannie Hamilton are the ancestors of the fictional characters these authors now create. Berry is unjustly accused of stealing money from his employers, the Oakleys, and goes to jail for a crime he did not commit but for which he is powerless to defend himself. The real culprit, Mr. Oakley’s younger brother, has actually lost the money and is ashamed to admit it. When the senior Oakley discovers the truth some years later, he chooses to ignore it and allow Berry to waste away in prison rather than soil his brother’s good name and that of their family. Neither Berry’s good name or the reputation of his family is of any consequence to this man.

The Hamiltons, who consider themselves above most of the black people in their small southern town are devastated by the accusation and subsequent conviction. Berry’s conviction costs the family its position among quality blacks and the blacks they rejected at one time are unforgiving. The Hamilton’s are no longer welcome in their hometown. They are the object of ridicule by the blacks and outright scorn by the whites.

Unable to find suitable employment Fannie, Berry’s wife, packs up her family and moves them north to Harlem and is sorry almost from the moment she steps off the train. Once in Harlem the family undergoes a terrible transformation. The son takes immediately to the seamier side of life, loving the ostentatious style of and becoming fascinated with the underground culture of gambling and dance halls and the men and women who inhabit them.

The family operates constantly under the fear of being “discovered”. The black community, being small and insular, has a powerful grapevine and once it is understood who they are their position in polite society is jeopardized. When a former rival, Minty Brown, comes to town she blabs the sordid story, out of spite, to everyone she thinks might know the Hamiltons. Their worst fears are realized and they lose their home and their employment. Out of work and with no place to live the Hamilton’s have some tough choices to make. Kitty Hamilton, the beautiful and obedient daughter, is drawn into the chorus line of a stage show by her brother’s girlfriend. It is the only employment available to someone of her family’s reputation. Fannie must marry Mr. Gibson who we discover is physically abusive. Joe, the son, falls deeper into the underground life of which he has become so fond.

When Minty Brown brings her story into the bar where Joe spends most of his time the crowd of gamblers and show girls rallies around him and literally chase Minty Brown from the place when she attempts to humiliate him there. This crowd, unlike the polite society from which they have been ousted, has accepted Joe as one of their own and behaves accordingly against any threat to him. Here, they show more moral fortitude than any of the polite society which has turned its back on an unjustly accused man and his family.

When Berry Hamilton’s injustice is revealed and he is released from prison he finds that his wife is married to another man, his daughter has taken to the stage and his son is in jail for murder. Feeling he has nothing left to lose, even he plans to commit murder by killing his wife’s new husband. Dunbar is suggesting through this series of events that even a God-fearing, well meaning family can be corrupted if the stars align correctly and that once that corruption has taken place it is difficult if not impossible to go back, not because the pull of the life is so great but because polite society is so unforgiving.

We see the same themes play out in the novels of Chester Himes, Iceberg Slim and Donald Goines. These authors all existed in the literary equivalent of the shadows, both personally and professionally. Of the three, only Himes receives any real critical attention, and rarely for his crime fiction. Of all the stories Chester Himes wrote the only two which are regularly anthologized are “Head Waiter” a story about the perceptions of blacks and power within the larger society as well as within our own professional experiences, and “To What Red Hell” which comments on the humanity of the prison inmate. Neither of those stories exemplify of the type of story Himes wrote regularly.

The same can be said for both Donald Goines and Robert “Iceberg Slim” Beck, only to a lesser degree. Neither of them is ever anthologized in an academic literary anthology. Still, their stories are remarkably similar to Dunbar’s Hamiltons. None of the characters are responsible for their particular situation, though not so indirectly as the Hamiltons. What makes the characters in street fiction so difficult to absorb is that unlike the Hamiltons they often embrace the life they are suppose to be trying to avoid. The Hamiltons were not permitted a life in “legitimate” society and were unjustly denied it. Circumstances beyond their control may be why the contemporary street lit characters have to start in their shadowy position, but pure desire is presumably what keeps them there.

Still, if we can imagine the offspring of Joe and Kitty, can they be far from the literary characters of contemporary street fiction? Their opportunities to succeed hampered by their parents choices and experiences. Joe and Kitty did not choose the lives they were relegated to; however, once there the life made them welcome and comfortable, provided for them the things they could not achieve through inaccessible legitimate means.