Darkwater Read online

  W.E.B. DU BOIS

  Darkwater

  Voices from Within the Veil

  FOUNDATIONS OF BLACK SCIENCE FICTION

  Series Foreword by Dr. Sandra M. Grayson

  New Introduction by Patty Nicole Johnson

  FLAME TREE 451

  London & New York

  FLAME TREE PUBLISHING

  Series Foreword

  Although Black science fiction writers first emerged post-1960, the origins of Black science fiction are evident in the 1800s. From a contemporary perspective, some nineteenth-century and early twentieth-century literature by people of African descent can be viewed as speculative fiction, including Martin R. Delany’s Blake, or the Huts of America (1859), Sutton Griggs’ Imperium in Imperio (1899), Pauline Hopkins’ Of One Blood (1902–03), Edward Johnson’s Light Ahead for the Negro (1904) and W.E.B. Du Bois’ ‘The Comet’ (1920). These texts, and others like them, are part of a larger group of works that represent Black people’s quest to tell their own stories. Many Black writers believed, as Anna Julia Cooper stated in A Voice from the South (1892), that ‘what is needed, perhaps, to reverse the picture of the lordly man slaying the lion, is for the lion to turn painter.’ In addition to being artistic endeavors, their works are often calls to action and explore various means for Black people to achieve physical and psychological freedom.

  In his 1854 speech ‘Political Destiny of the Colored Race on the American Continent’, Martin R. Delany stated:

  We must make an issue, create an event, and establish for ourselves a position. This is essentially necessary for our effective elevation as a people, in shaping our national development, directing our destiny, and redeeming ourselves as a race.

  Delany had a multifaceted career that included work as an activist, abolitionist, and author. As a novelist, he used fiction as a means to achieve social change. This is an approach to art in which, as Mbye Cham explained in ‘Film Text and Context’ (1996), the role of the artist ‘is not to make the revolution but to prepare its way through clarification, analysis and exposure, to provide people with a vision and a belief that a revolution is necessary, possible and desirable.’

  Through fiction, Blake: or the Huts of America (1859) explores the political and social landscape of the 1850s. In the novel, the Black characters make issues, create events and establish positions to gain physical and psychological freedom. Blake can be categorized as a science-fiction-style alternate history novel in that it is set in the historical past (1853), but some details contradict known facts of history. Delany’s pan-African vision and his multifaceted work in the United States, Africa, England and Canada make Blake significant to the formation of Black science fiction across nations.

  In Sutton Griggs’ Imperium in Imperio (1899) and Pauline Hopkins’ Of One Blood (1902–03), various means to transform society are expressed through the philosophies of secret Black governments – symbolized, respectively, by the Imperium in Imperio (an underground compact government that functions like a nation) and Kush (a rich and powerful ancient African nation). Edward Johnson’s Light Ahead for the Negro (1904) and W.E.B. Du Bois’ ‘The Comet’ (1920) explore the erasure of the ‘color line’, a phrase that refers to racial segregation in the United States after slavery was abolished. In The Souls of Black Folk (1903) Du Bois stated, ‘The problem of the twentieth century is the problem of the color-line – the relation of the darker to the lighter races of men in Asia and Africa, in America and the islands of the sea.’ Johnson stated that through his novel (in which the protagonist travels to the future) he was ‘trying to show how the Negro problem can be solved in peace and good will rather than by brutality.’

  The following works by Black writers from Lesotho, Cameroon and Nigeria can also be categorized as speculative fiction: Thomas Mfolo’s Chaka (1925), Jean-Louis Njemba Medou’s Nnanga Kon (1932), Muhammadu Bello Kagara’s Gandoki (1934) and Daniel Olorunfemi Fagunwa’s Ogboju Ode Ninu Igbo Irunmale (Forest of a Thousand Daemons: A Hunter’s Saga) (1938). Chaka is a fictional account of the heroic Zulu king Shaka. Although Chaka is set in the historical past (about 1787–1828), many details contradict historical facts; therefore, like Blake, Chaka can be classified as a science-fiction-style alternate history novel. Nnanga Kon is a first-contact novel based on the arrival of Adolphus Clemens Good, a white American missionary, in Bulu territory. His appearance earns him the name Nnanga Kon: ‘white ghost’ or ‘phantom albino’. Gandoki incorporates the Hausa oral tradition and focuses on the protagonist’s (Gandoki’s) fight against the British. Subsequently, jinns bring him to a new, imagined world. Ogboju Ode Ninu Igbo Irunmale recounts the supernatural adventures of Akara-ogun, ‘Compound-of-Spells’, a legendary hunter who has magical powers.

  Simultaneously works of art and political texts, Black proto-science fiction envisions societies in which people of African descent are active agents of positive change and complex individuals who direct their destinies. The artists use literature as a means to try and transform society, a methodology that reflects the interconnectedness of artistic and social phenomena.

  Dr. Sandra M. Grayson

  A New Introduction

  The socialist concepts of a right to health care, higher education, housing and more have often resonated with the masses. The US Senator Bernie Sanders is a long-time endorser of socialism and the sweeping popularity of his 2016 and 2020 presidential campaigns has been proof of this. Yet, if you believe the public discourse regarding the base of support of socialism, you may think it’s all young and white. Not true. Black Americans have long found solace in the aspirational equality presented by this political position.

  According to Morning Consult, 33% of Black Democratic voters believe the US should move away from capitalism and adopt socialism. This shouldn’t be a surprise when Black activists and philosophers, such as Cornel West (1953–) and Angela Davis (1944–), have publicly supported socialism for decades.

  It began, in part, with W.E.B. Du Bois (1868–1963). The sociologist, writer and co-founder of the National Association for the Advancement of Coloured People (NAACP) had an immense impact on the relevancy of socialism. Du Bois carefully studied political uprisings across the world, from the nationalist Jawaharlal Nehru’s ‘Indian Socialism’ to the 1949 Chinese Revolution. W.E.B Du Bois is somewhat of a rarity as Black figures have largely been whitewashed from educational discourse. Many who’ve come up through the US educational system are familiar with him as an essayist, NAACP co-founder and political revolutionary.

  At 50 years old, upon reflection of his life, having recently undergone minor surgery, Du Bois sat to write the first of his three autobiographies: Darkwater: Voices from within the Veil. It followed his lifelong work of examining racism and segregation and the political implications they brought forth. Finished in 1918 and published in 1920, Darkwater begins with a Postscript that’s meant to serve as Du Bois’ ethos for the work. He aimed to write about the nature of a racially fueled world that Black people know all too well, a world that many white people still struggle to understand to this day.

  What follows is a post war, spiritual journey of examining conflict between Black and white races, religion-fueled hope and promised salvation. Narrative sections are either autobiographical or speculative, and followed by poetry.

  The Early Years

  Du Bois’s selection for the opening of his first autobiography is ‘Credo’. Having been first published in 1904 as a pamphlet, the religious creed was one of his most widely-read works. The prose poem puts forth a righteous argument for pride ‘of race and lineage and self.’ The result is a powerful renouncement of white supremacy. Du Bois states that when we recognize and accept our own pride, it must be bestowed upon others
, as well:

  I believe in Pride of race and lineage and self: in pride of self so deep as to scorn injustice to other selves; in pride of lineage so great as to despise no man’s father; in pride of race so chivalrous as neither to offer bastardy to the weak nor beg wedlock of the strong, knowing that men may be brothers in Christ, even though they be not brothers-in-law.

  Credo closes with the hallmark of patience. Du Bois believes in waiting, not idly, for the weakness and the ignorance of racism to abate. He posits that joy for humans is late, but it is on the way.

  A Great Clan

  W.E.B. Du Bois was a bastion of the American melting pot with his African, French and Dutch blood. He is privileged to recall two hundred years of his ancestry in the first narrative section of Darkwater, which formed what he calls ‘a great clan.’ Africans were first robbed of place when stolen as part of the Transatlantic Slave Trade but additionally, the buying, selling and constant moving of enslaved people continued to rob generations of their right to have knowledge of and connections to family members.

  The first ancestor we explore is Tom Burghardt, who was Du Bois’ great-great-grandfather on his mother’s side. Tom was held captive but earned his freedom when he volunteered to fight in the American Revolution. The earning of one’s freedom was a misnomer that was ubiquitous at the time. It indicated that slaveholders understood that Black men and women held true personhood and didn’t deserve to be owned. This thought wasn’t admitted outwardly very often, but despite this the fraught concept, during military service or otherwise, was popular and it granted a fraction of enslaved people a chance to live on their own terms.

  Tom married a Bantu woman. The pair had five sons, including Jack who was a veteran of the War of 1812. Jack and his wife, Violet, had many children, resulting in a ‘mighty family, splendidly named: Harlow and Ira, Cloë, Lucinda, Maria, and Othello.’ Othello or ‘Uncle Tallow’ was Du Bois’ grandfather. Du Bois recounts the differences in skin tones of his family members. Uncle Tallow was brown skinned, but Du Bois’ grandmother, Sarah or ‘Aunt Sally’ was a lighter, golden tone. The pair’s youngest of ten, Mary, became Du Bois’ mother – she was dark, bronze-skinned with wide curls. Black people understand that to describe these details is to celebrate the different forms the community takes. A few words can go far in inferring that a lighter-skinned family member might have dealt with less outright discrimination than their darker-skinned relatives.

  Du Bois’ paternal grandfather, Alexander, was stern. His own lineage stemmed from wealthy descendant Dr. James Du Bois, who enjoyed Bahamian riches. Alexander was the offspring of James’ enslaved mulatto mistress. As a result, white-passing Alexander was educated in a renowned Cheshire school but was soon forgotten by the family after his father’s death. He had a quiet life and didn’t want to call attention to his race. Du Bois writes of him:

  Always he held his head high, took no insults, made few friends. He was not a ‘Negro’; he was a man! Yet the current was too strong even for him.

  Alexander kept to himself and wasn’t known for being a public activist until the fight came to his doorstep. When white churchgoers made clear they didn’t want Black people in their church, Alexander led the resistance, becoming the Senior Warden of St. Luke’s Parish.

  Education and Race

  Du Bois entered school and realized the dream was opulence of place but not of wealth. He was rich in company – his playmates were as diverse as the homes they occupied. Easily a leader, he took the center role in a group of boys who were energetic but kept in line by his mother. Yet through this, a revelation slowly appeared: his brown skin was thought to be a disadvantage, or even worse. He didn’t internalize these thoughts, instead he continued to carry his innate beliefs and his pride in himself and found it sad for those that couldn’t see what he saw. He didn’t feel much loss at this time but he would later recount it being felt in others.

  As a boy who graduated from high school, he was to enter the world and go ‘beyond the hills.’ With eyes set on Harvard, Du Bois was directed to the south instead. A scholarship was arranged for him at Fisk, and he took the detour in stride. This is one of the first large disadvantages that Du Bois had to face. He was done with his small town and wanted to enter the wider world with all it had to offer. However, he was quickly relegated to an institution because of the racist environment. While he took the change in good faith, it did seep into his soul and inform his later work.

  Du Bois recounts being alerted to racial disparities while raising his hat to a Southern white woman as an apologetic gesture for an accidental brush up on the street. The constant nature of these realities overshadowed his dreams. He was awarded opportunities in prizes and Harvard fellowships and went to study in Germany. With every new person he met, he became convinced of their humanity and how ‘Negro’ opportunity was meant for all. He returned to the states and taught many languages. He loved the Black institution he worked for, inspired by the people but depressed at their inadequate preparation for the harsh world.

  Profiling Evils

  Du Bois’ chapter, The Souls of White Folk, starts blindingly sharp, with an assertion that the narrator knows the souls of white people innately through their assertive behavior toward Black and brown people. He calls this belief as strong as religious faith. Multiple examples of white culture are detailed through their interactions with non-white people. Yet this transforms into an historical account of white actions. How aid sent to Africa results in a robbery of culture and spiritualism; how a mandate of capitalism-based nation building in the Congo results in murder and slavery. Du Bois suggests that this all culminates in the evolution of a white culture that believes: ‘Darker peoples are dark in mind as well as in body.’

  He perfectly encapsulates the only explanation of the treatment of Black people around the world. Working backward from the mounds of historical evidence of the mistreatment of the African diaspora, the narrator comes to a sound conclusion: white people think Black people are dark, deep within their souls.

  All the while, America positions itself as a peacemaker embodying tunnel vision of its history. This history is trained into its descendants and fated upon by the equalizer of time. The narrator proclaims there is enough room for more than one color:

  I hear his mighty cry reverberating through the world, “I am white!” Well and good, O Prometheus, divine thief! Is not the world wide enough for two colors, for many little shinings of the sun? Why, then, devour your own vitals if I answer even as proudly, “I am black!”

  Europe and Africa

  The Hands of Ethiopia, the third chapter in Darkwater, is an indictment of the perennial land grab of Africa. Du Bois states that the world’s first commerce system was fueled by the souls and bodies of men. In four hundred years, Europe was the chief exporter of one hundred million Africans.

  This begs the question, ‘How can Africa be made whole?’ Africa could have been a talisman for the fight for human equality and fair treatment around the world. Yet when people stopped being exported from Africa, mistreatment in their native homes proliferated through the industrialization of precious minerals and more. Moreover, the ‘hands’ referenced in the title don’t refer to helplessness or individual sorrow, but reflexed pain and a will to demand more.

  Of Work and Rights

  In Of Work and Wealth, Du Bois writes about industries that made steel for both railroads and guns – all the while wages were flatlining and inflation was rapidly increasing. Tensions boiled from the mistreatment of workers of all colors. Yet Black workers had special disadvantages because of their status and skin tone.

  The essay transforms from an autobiographical account into a historical one, detailing and exploring reasons for the atrocities of the 1917 riots in East St. Louis. The influx of Black migrants to the city due to the First World War led to what Du Bois describes as ‘red anger’ from the white workers. Their festering resentment soon built to breaki
ng point and resulted in horrific scenes:

  Five thousand rioters arose and surged like a crested stormwave, from noonday until midnight; they killed and beat and murdered.

  There were many factors that led to this violence, including residence segregation, union leaders blaming black men for the harsh working conditions as well as almost the entirety of US history, argues Du Bois. The men who could help stop this – policemen, firemen and the military – did nothing, or joined the mob themselves. Du Bois believed that racism was thoroughly entrenched in US society.

  Turning to the Macro

  The next essay, The Servant in the House, opens with Du Bois recounting an interaction with a white woman after a speech he gives. She wants a Black servant but calls them lazy when they don’t want to work under her stern gaze. Instead, they aspire to education and status. Du Bois is angry and nearly indignant but leaves to write this chapter.

  The concept of doing work for white people that resembled work that was done for free under slavery pained Du Bois when he was young. He did anything to remain his ‘own man’. However, there was a period between his Fisk and Harvard years where he waited tables. It felt, to him, like giving up his morals.

  But the truth of the essay comes: ‘In 1860, 98 percent of the Negroes were servants and serfs.’ Black people have always served in some form, as others lived their blessed life. In his tradition of turning to the macro, Du Bois imagines ridding menial work for all. He mentions the machinery that could be used for this, yet this was far from being possible. However, when technology threatens to take over some want to work, along with the right to do so with fairness in terms of wage and dignity. And, as we see now, some want more than work. They want a good life, in any form that takes.