Oil workers in Carlsbad, N.M.; photography by Don J. Usner, Searchlight New Mexico
My friend only wants to be heard, but fears that his letter to the editor will not be printed, or will offend a lot of people, as it doubtless will—if it is printed—but that seems unlikely.
And the fact that an unpopular opinion, now more than ever, is not likely to be printed is what disturbs me.
At the same time, the oil workers in this photo from Carlesbad, N.M. are complaining about the shutdown of their work—and I’m grateful for Searchlight New Mexico for providing this article. I see evidence of other aspects of the problem of my state’s reliance on oil in the overweight and nicotine addiction in this photo—both continuing problems here and everywhere. If you work at a nature-killing industry, perhaps overweight and nicotine addiction hardly seem to matter.
We don’t want to hear about white privilege although most of us would acknowledge that, at least in its male version, it controls and dominates our culture. And we need to know all about the white people who exercise that control, especially the horde of inheritors who are coming our way as the last generation dies and leaves it huge wealth, largely untaxed, to its children.
This is especially important for the women who will inherit, perhaps for the first time in modern history, enough money to make a difference, far more money than any of them could ever earn, even with white privilege on their side.
That’s one of the reasons I’m going against the current in writing about Doris Duke. She, too, inherited a massive fortune when her father died and had to go about finding what to do with it, without mentors or education to guide her. It didn’t take her long to establish her first foundation when she was twenty-one, but it took her a lot longer to extend her outreach.
Will tomorrow’s women inheritors do better?
I don’t know.
But I do know that we must talk and write about this issue, as we must talk and write about the horrors of our history. We can’t afford to be silent about our past.
With my new collection, Treason: A Sallie Bingham Reader, to be published next month by Sarabande Books, I had the rare and choice opportunity, guided by my publisher, to include some old work.
One of the short stories Sarah Gorham suggested that we include, “Luke” seemed to me unlikely to find sympathetic readers. Its narrator is an African-American butler out of the old times. He knows everything about the white family he’s worked for for years and clearly sees their foibles—but that is an ancient construct of black identity that would offend many readers today.
So I didn’t include that story, which means it will probably never be read.
And yet Luke, too, is a part of our history.
My friend’s out of date concern for the remnants of our past, my unwillingness to affront readers with a reminder, in fiction, of what life was like and still continues to be for many African-Americans… isn’t something lost?
I was less afraid of criticism some years ago when my first play, Milk of Paradise, was produced by Julia Miles at the American Place Theater in New York. Five members of the cast were African-Americans working as servants in a big white-owned house.
During the Q&A after the first performance, a man stood to angrily denounce presenting African-Americans in these roles.
Theresa Wright, an impressive woman who had played the cook, stood up to announce that she didn’t act in any “Tom Plays.”
Enough said. But neither her role nor my play nor my story “Luke” would be acceptable today.
I think we need to define, and vigorously defend, the line between art and politics.
It will take courage as well as humility.
[The short story “Luke” is now available on my site. For more on Doris Duke’s inheritance, philanthropy, and legacy, please see my video, Doris Duke’s Legacy. An audio version and transcript are also available.]
Thank you, Sallie. I appreciate the opportunity to think about something truly real and absolutely changeable! I’ve always felt each of us birthed into this reality have the same potential to develop into remarkable beings. The fact of totally absent opportunity to most of us has always saddened and discouraged me. Right or wrong, I wish I could know who or what I could have been with different circumstances affecting my opportunities. I’m sure many people feel that as well.