Stuck at a Modern-day Minstrel Show
The other day, I was at a poetry and prose reading, one that, I must add here, almost always has terrific people doing great material, so I always know I'm going to hear something interesting. That evening's reading was no exception, except for the second reader (there were four), a middle-aged white man. He went to the microphone, and proceeded to tell a story in rhyming verse. After the first stanza, I was mildly disturbed. By the third I was insulted.
Delivered in what this man must have thought was authentic "urban" English patois, he made every “am”, every “are” and every “is” into “be”. He dropped the “g” in “ing”, stuck in some urban crime, a few gunshots (the first loud BLAM startled the only other person of color in the back of room so much he involuntarily blurted out “Oh please stop!’) and voila . . . a sad tale of what sounded to me like Negro woe.
A constant refrain that went something like “boom diddle diddle” or “boom diddy diddy” punctuated his stanzas, turning the entire 15 minute recitation into a borefest.
To make matters worse, he couldn’t carry a rhythm to save his life; my 91-year-old German great aunt could rap better than this poor soul. Was this an exercise in stepping out of his comfort zone?
It could only have been worse if he had “corked up” and done it in blackface.
Maybe he should have; at least then I would have had an excuse to boo him, or throw a tomato, or tell him off, or complain bitterly to the management. But I have a rule about audience behavior and that is: If someone has the guts to get in front of an audience and share their art, I should have the decency to listen quietly as an acknowledgment of his or her effort.
Still, I can’t help but feel like I should have said something. I wasn’t the only person who was appalled—although I’m not sure if it wasn’t by equal measures of egregious subject matter, bad writing, and poor delivery.
There’s a second part to why I was so disturbed, but I’ll discuss that in my next post.
My question is, should I have told that man how awful his reading was and why?
Delivered in what this man must have thought was authentic "urban" English patois, he made every “am”, every “are” and every “is” into “be”. He dropped the “g” in “ing”, stuck in some urban crime, a few gunshots (the first loud BLAM startled the only other person of color in the back of room so much he involuntarily blurted out “Oh please stop!’) and voila . . . a sad tale of what sounded to me like Negro woe.
A constant refrain that went something like “boom diddle diddle” or “boom diddy diddy” punctuated his stanzas, turning the entire 15 minute recitation into a borefest.
To make matters worse, he couldn’t carry a rhythm to save his life; my 91-year-old German great aunt could rap better than this poor soul. Was this an exercise in stepping out of his comfort zone?
It could only have been worse if he had “corked up” and done it in blackface.
Maybe he should have; at least then I would have had an excuse to boo him, or throw a tomato, or tell him off, or complain bitterly to the management. But I have a rule about audience behavior and that is: If someone has the guts to get in front of an audience and share their art, I should have the decency to listen quietly as an acknowledgment of his or her effort.
Still, I can’t help but feel like I should have said something. I wasn’t the only person who was appalled—although I’m not sure if it wasn’t by equal measures of egregious subject matter, bad writing, and poor delivery.
There’s a second part to why I was so disturbed, but I’ll discuss that in my next post.
My question is, should I have told that man how awful his reading was and why?
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