KILLING IN THE NAME OF STRUGGLE: AMIRI BARAKA’S REVOLUTIONARY THEATRE DOUGLAS KERN PhD THE UNIVERSITY OF YORK DEPARTMENT OF THEATRE, FILM AND TELEVISION JANUARY 2014 ABSTRACT This study explores representations of murder, killing, and death in the revolutionary drama of Amiri Baraka. After a brief Introduction, Chapter 1 serves as an introduction to Baraka’s birth as an activist and provides background regarding the U.S. racial climate in the 1960s as it relates to his activism. Moreover, it presents Baraka’s Black Arts Repertory Theatre School and how it helped establish the Black Arts Movement. Chapter 2 provides a detailed study of Dutchman, Baraka’s first success, to initiate an analysis of killing and murder within his plays. In addition, it examines The Slave and Slave Ship, which present revolutionary models whereby Black Power is sought, and in the case of Slave Ship achieved through the killing of whites. Chapter 3 offers a detailed look at Baraka’s move towards Third World Marxism. After categorically denouncing Nationalism, Baraka’s public embrace of Marxism in 1974 isolated him from the Black theatre he had helped establish. Case studies examine representations of Capitalist killers in What Was the Relationship of the Lone Ranger to the Means of Production? and Song. Chapter 4 begins with a brief introduction to Baraka’s activism in the early 1990s, along with details of his son’s tragic shooting, and culminates with in-depth analyses of Jack Pot Melting: A Commercial, The Election Machine Warehouse, and General Hag’s Skeezag, all published in the ‘90s and performed together for the Nuyorican Poets Café Theater in 1996. Rather than depict onstage killing or murder, these plays present America’s threat of death. The study closes with an Afterword which discusses the continuing controversy which surrounds Baraka (including being stripped of the title of Poet Laureate of New Jersey for allegedly expressing anti-Semitic views in his poem ‘Somebody Blew Up America.’), as well as his influence on his son’s campaign for Mayor and other modern American playwrights. ii LIST OF CONTENTS Page Abstract ii List of Contents iii Acknowledgments iv Declaration v INTRODUCTION 1 CHAPTER 1 The Birth of an Activist in a Decade of Struggle: 7 Amiri Baraka and the U.S. in the 1960s CHAPTER 2 Justifiable Homicide: From Dutchman to a 29 Revolutionary Theatre CHAPTER 3 Killing Capitalism: Amiri Baraka and Marxist Drama 68 CHAPTER 4 Death Threats: Continuing to Dramatize the Struggle 98 AFTRERWORD 126 BIBLIOGRAPHY 133 iii ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS I would like to thank Professor Mary Luckhurst for her patience, unwavering faith in my abilities, and commitment to always see me through. Dr Christopher Hogg is a true friend who continues to inspire me; I thank him for his loyalty and for steering me safely through the submission of this work. Dr Nik Morris, Dr Tom Cantrell, Dr Oliver Jones, and Professor Michael Cordner have consistently provided advice and encouragement. Thank you to my faculty mentors, colleagues, and friends at the University of Maryland, College Park: Dr Michael Olmert, Dr Gene Robinson, Dr Leigh Ryan, Dr Linda Macri, Louise Clement, Nabila Hijazi, Lyra Hilliard, Paul Cote, Tom Earles, and Heather Lindenman. I thank the students and tutors at both Maryland and York who have taught me so much. In particular, thanks to my Teaching Assistants who offered countless conversations to support my process: Maya Freund, Elle Everhart, Katrina Rodis, Melissa Crastnopol, Hannah Gerstein, Shirelle Ellis, Brittany Boyd, Angela Ambrosi, and Courtney Guth. I would also like to acknowledge my debt to the staffs of the Yale University Library, the Archives Division of the Auburn Avenue Research Library on African American Culture and History in Atlanta (especially Kerrie Cotten Williams and Dr Wesley Chenault), the Special Collections Research Center at the Syracuse University Library, and the Schomburg Center for Research in Black Culture at The New York Public Library. Of course, I am equally grateful to Amiri Baraka, whose writings, lectures, presentations, and brief encounters always spurred me on. Personal thanks go out to Erik C. Lee, Christopher Lenhart, Spanish Mike, and Lauren Smith. I am, of course, indebted to my family. Thank you, Mom and Dad for your endless support. Thank you to the Wells family for continued encouragement. Most of all, I thank Carrie Wells for her kindness, openness, and unfailing confidence and perseverance throughout this process. iv DECLARATION I declare that all written work and use of expression, unless cited, is my own. v Introduction The struggle’s intensification made it necessary to unveil the people themselves, their own voices and the tearful accents of their personal tragedies—brought together to make national and international tragedy. (Baraka, Preface to Woza Afrika! xiv) A single piece of artwork, depicting a rather simple sketch of a face, sits by my side as I write. The otherwise unremarkable portrait from 1996 portrays a bespectacled Black man in a hat, bearing a loose resemblance to an aging Amiri Baraka, the drawing’s artist. In large letters above the man’s hat, Baraka has written, ‘Play On!’ Down the left side of the ‘swathmore’ acid free paper he has scrawled, ‘Suppose you wanted to know the truth about everything!’ (Baraka, Play On). Together, the writing which accompanies this sketch details the overall message of this study: Baraka’s consistent goal to expose American corruption through drama. For all its strengths, America doesn’t much like the truth. It is a country built on myths regarding race and oppression, often sweeping harsh realities regarding historical racism under the proverbial rug; Baraka too often attempted to dramatize such truths too dirty for America to face. This work explores representations of murder, killing, and death in the revolutionary drama of Amiri Baraka and aims to expose his marginalized drama to the masses. Put simply, Baraka wrote and preached for drama which would scream to the heavens and shake America’s faulty foundations. In terms of African-American literature, Baraka has already proven himself. It’s hard to find an anthology of Black American Literature which does not contain at least one poem from Baraka. The dramatic work is another matter; his Dutchman remains the only play to receive consistent attention. Though this study references key moments where his poetry directly links with his drama and vice versa, Baraka was essentially a performance poet, so there is something of the theatrical in almost all that he does. In terms of a broader literary canon, though, I think it’s important to recognize the embarrassingly high level of neglect towards African-American artists. In an anthology of theatre, readers will be lucky if they get Lorraine Hansberry’s A Raisin in the Sun or August Wilson’s Fences. Too often, Othello, as worthy of study as that play is, is passed off as ‘the example’ of a play capable of expressing the ‘Black’ experience. Baraka is not alone in remaining silenced in the broader sense of a Western twentieth century canon, but I feel this close study of his dramatic work will encourage further discourse and, ultimately, place him among other, now commonly studied, non-Black playwrights. Baraka passed away on 9 January 2014. It was strange: friends called and texted me to offer their condolences as if I had lost a family member. It did hit hard. I spent a lot of time with Baraka’s writings and, though I was lucky enough to meet and speak with him on several occasions, it felt strange that I would not be able to shake his hand and thank him one last time. I embarked 1 on this work, in part, to draw attention to Baraka as one of the most prolific American writers to date. As tragedy often can, his death has made this broad study of his rather neglected dramatic works all the more urgent. Baraka’s output rivals that of W.E.B. DuBois and Langston Hughes. In terms of theatre, Baraka is widely deemed the Father of the Black Arts Movement (BAM), and despite renowned scholar Henry Louis Gates’ opinion that the BAM is the shortest living movement coming out of black America, modern playwrights remain inspired and influenced by the expressive politics born from Baraka’s theatrical models. The end of Katori Hall’s 2010 Oliver Award winning The Mountaintop, for example, openly challenges Martin Luther King’s non-violent stance with a Malcolm X-like declaration of war. To label Baraka strictly in terms of African-American art, though, is to reduce his significance as a political writer capable of making international waves. In his book, Amiri Baraka: The Politics and Art of a Black Intellectual, Jerry Gafio Watts claims, ‘To bring up Baraka in a symposium on art and politics is to bring a conversation to a standstill.[…] ‘Baraka is admired, hated, feared, dismissed, adored, and despised’ (x). To add to Watt’s list, I can say Baraka was also quite intimidating; while meeting him for the first time at an event held in honor of his 75th birthday in 2009, I told Baraka I was an admirer of his work. He simply raised his head, stared, and coldly questioned, ‘Really?’ Still, I could not blame him. As Baraka often acknowledged, black Americans have plenty of reasons to remain suspicious of white Americans. In his essay, ‘Reading Malcolm X with White Students,’ Noel Ignatiev proclaims, ‘The white club does not require that all members be strong advocates of white supremacy, merely that they defer to the prejudices of others. It is based on one huge assumption: that all those who look white are, whatever their reservations, fundamentally loyal to it’ (101).