“If any man claims the Negro should be content… let him say he would willingly change the color of his skin and go to live in the Negro section of a large city. Then and only then has he a right to such a claim.”
–Robert F. Kennedy

After viewing the docent slideshow presentation introducing the Kickin’ It exhibit, I commented and was reaffirmed by several of my co-workers that we all expected for times to be a little rough at the admissions desk. We expected a wealth of complaints from museum patrons about the material Joyce J. Scott addressed (and I believe as a preemptive measure this very forum was created) and some parental warning signs were placed on the front desk of the museum. However, to our collective surprise when the exhibition opened there were minimal questions and fewer complaints about the exhibit beyond the standard, “Where is the glass?” For some reason I expected the Joyce J. Scott exhibition to provoke some level of controversy, introspective examination, and discourse among museum patrons—I should have known better.

In the year 2006 we as Americans find ourselves at a peculiar juncture in regards to race relations. Surely, I do not deny that there has been significant progress made—this much is obvious. I am a young black male and in my life I have been able to serve six years in a racially integrated military unit; I was able to attend integrated classes through graduate school at a state university; and I will soon begin teaching reading at an integrated public school here in Tacoma. For my grandparents down in Arkansas and Mississippi certainly—perhaps even for my parents—this would have been unattainable.

Clearly, in many ways the plight of blacks is far better than it was during the pre-Civil Rights period. Personal attitudes about race in America are far more progressive and the words “nigger”, “negro”, and “colored” have all but disappeared from common vernacular. This is also progress, but it is superficial. I question how much progress have we truly made in interrupting the deeply entrenched institutionalized racism that permeates our culture. To put it another way, it would be unacceptable for an official or member of the academy to say publicly that “blacks are lazy and dependent on welfare”. A person making such an inflammatory and racist statement would be committing career suicide and would surely be immediately castigated by people from all walks of life. However, if the same person were to discuss his or her theories on the “Culture of Poverty”, a “victimhood mentality” among blacks, or urban economic “learned helplessness”, such a person could easily find him or herself appointed Dean of the Harris School of Public Policy at the University of Chicago or as an eminent Republican strategist and Distinguished Fellow in Cultural Policy Studies at the Heritage Foundation. Such is the case with Susan Mayer and Bill Bennett respectively. Many contemporary politicians and policy makers like Bennett and Mayer have not strayed far from ethos embodied in George Wallace. They shrewdly wrap their still racist messages and policies in carefully crafted media friendly terms-of-art like “traditional values”, “America’s common heritage”, and getting “tough on crime”. Within the institutions of government, especially in dealing with drug policy and public education, racism and the specter of Jim Crow are clearly alive and well.

If a black and a white man commit the same crime the black offender is more likely to be arrested by the police, more likely to be charged by the prosecutor, more likely to be convicted by a judge and “jury of his peers”, and is more likely to receive a disproportionate sentence than his white counterpart. This has chilling effects. According to the United States Department of Justice statistics 1 in 17 white males will be incarcerated during their lifetime. For blacks this figure is 1 in 3. If you factor in people on probation and parole there are more black men in the criminal justice system than in school of any level. Moreover, with the stagnation of wages in today’s economy this figure is expected to get worse. Blacks have nearly double the unemployment rate of whites, even among college graduates. I could go on with a parade of statistics but I find it both unnecessary and depressing.

We are seemingly a nation in denial of what should be an axiom: there is still much work to do to combat racism in America. Unfortunately, we as a society are far too fond of happy endings, and we repeatedly shrink from this battle as we did after the 2000 Florida election and again after Hurricane Katrina. Instead, we embrace the dominant narrative regarding race relations that goes something like this: a long time ago, there once was slavery and racism in America—both were bad. Thanks to Abraham Lincoln and Martin Luther King Jr. respectively, both were fixed. We now live in a colorblind society. If they just apply themselves everyone has an equal chance to live the “American Dream”. And the most insidious of all: blacks should stop crying over past discrimination and move on. Any politician, member of the media, or public intellectual who deviates from this neat little fairy tale is systematically marginalized and labeled a “race baiter” or my favorite, as “playing the race card”.

In America, instead of addressing past and contemporary manifestations of racism, we prefer to embrace a contrived myth that depicts American as a bastion of equity and equality. This is what Joyce J. Scott’s work is about. Her work seeks to peel away the neat little facade and expose the unseemly underbelly of America’s shared cultural narrative. Behind Catch a Nigger by the Toe and Cuddly Dick there is a recalcitrant story demanding to be told. Whether you appreciate the aesthetics of her work or not, you must marvel at the indifference to the contrived American narrative that she displays.