The beginning of February marks the beginning of Black History Month, when College Library begins setting up their annual table featuring the likes of James Baldwin and Ralph Ellison. This month's celebration is more significant than ever, as we witness the first weeks in office of this country's first African-American president.
Still, every time I see those books on display, I'm hit with a feeling of sadness. It's not only at the history of racial oppression that those titles so often discuss, but also the persistent effect that racism has had on the arts. Why are Maya Angelou and Audre Lorde separated from other authors by a specialized section? Why is it that reviews on the backs of novels by black authors discuss the greatest African-American writers"" rather than ""the greatest writers""?
A black friend of mine who wants to be a writer once told me she resented the fact that no matter what she wrote about, the race legacy in this country will always label her as a ""black author"" rather than merely an ""author."" So it goes with so many artists, whose title, are always preceded by a modifier of an invented, repressive system.
Certainly, segregation and oppression have had a great effect on the experiences, and thus, the literature created by the black community. Indeed, the consequence of calamitous movements toward freedom has been at once limiting and animating, adding vividness to the heartbreak displayed by black authors. It is for this reason that those against racism have advocated for a specific place in American literature for people of color, where authors are guaranteed a voice rather than run the risk of being left off of required reading lists.
The idea of ""black authors"" being separated from other authors has had another implication: writers of a certain skin color are all automatically drawn into seemingly narrow categories. Their works, the ""genre"" implies, are all intrinsically similar somehow. Despite the fact that many books by African-American writers deal with oppression, content and style differ dramatically between books and authors. Books that display this variety of writing, however, are often not brought into focus, with teachers putting only one or two token books by black authors on their syllabi.
Things are changing though, as our new president shows. Maybe in a century's time the artificial, yet not so artificial, lines between races will slowly fade away, even in a supposedly visually anonymous art such as writing. E-mail questions to Frances at provine@wisc.edu.
