The Cross Road. [AAP#7]

FOR TU SABADO, in the African American Perspective at UMX feature we have a post by a blogmigo known as The Thin Black Duke, or more commonly “Kevin.” Today’s fine sampling includes a musical touch and doesn’t shy away from history either. Very tasty, so dig in without hesitation.

(For those just tuning in, this special feature at UMX runs through to Sunday the 16th of November—mañana.)

Kevin is a former graduate student in English literature and language and an Americanist specializing in poetry and poetics. He also spends a lot of time studying trickster narratives, linguistics, and rhetoric. Kevin is a life-long, hardcore music devotee and a tech hobiest as well. If you can imagine a dude sitting around reading Hart Crane or Emily Dickinson while listening to My Bloody Valentine or A Tribe Called Quest and compiling a Linux program from the source code on his home built-computer all at once, you’ve got him figured out.

The Cross Road.

Blues singer and guitarist Robert Johnson famously sang of “The Cross Road Blues” a song which is often interpreted as being his telling of meeting the Devil and selling his soul in order to play the blues as well as he did. A less known interpretation of the song, however, is that of Johnson singing about the dangers of being Black in the Deep South.

Historian Leon Litwack has suggested that the song refers to the common fear felt by blacks who were discovered out alone after dark. As late as 1930s in parts of the South, the well-known expression, “Nigger, don’t let the sun go down on you here,” was, according to Litwack, “understood and vigorously enforced.” In an era when lynchings were still common, Johnson was likely singing about the desperation of finding his way home from an unfamiliar place as quickly as possible because, as the song says, “the sun goin’ down, boy/ dark gon’ catch me here.” This interpretation also makes sense of the closing line “You can run/ tell my friend poor Willie Brown/ that I’m standing at the crossroads” as Johnson’s appeal for help from a real-life fellow musician.”[2]. Furthermore, it is said that Johnson requested that Willie Brown be informed in the event of his death.

The Cross Road has been on my mind lately.

Not because I feel that our President-Elect, Barack Obama, is at the cross road in the sense of selling his soul to become President, or that he is “out alone after dark” in his new role as leader of the United States. Both possibilities are there, to be sure, but that is not what concerns me now.

I am, however, thinking of Robert Johnson, Papa Legba, and Eshu Elegua, and the Yoruban and other myths that spurned these figures that linger at The Cross Road, figures of transformation and freedom, and why they might be necessary for understanding where we are right now in our national consciousness.

We are, my friends, at The Cross Road.

It is, perhaps, not Barack Obama that signifies Papa Legba or Elegua. Perhaps it is us. We are the ones that are opening the doors to our future. We are the elocution, the voices that shall ring loudly and proudly as we determine what the future will be. As the song goes, it is “we” that shall one day overcome.

I know, you’ve heard it before: “we are the change…blah, blah, blah…” It’s almost corny and played-out to say it anymore. Truth be told, I could never hear the word “change” again and be quite happy with that. But there’s something in the air, nonetheless. There’s something about seeing Obama “brush his shoulder” off and laughing at the folks that think Jay-Z is the originator of that gesture. For me, the gesture is not relevant because a pop culture icon appropriated it in a song. It is relevant because it points back to our stories, our songs, our ancestors. Like any good transformational figure, Obama is moving both forward and backwards at the same time; and like any good transformational figure, he is bringing us along for the ride, even if we don’t fully recognize it. Obama’s ascent makes perfect sense to me in the framework of black, African, folklore and the stories that have carried us this far along.

What struck me on election night the most happened as I was heading home from work. I heard noise. A lot of noise coming from the college nearby. At first, I couldn’t tell what people were yelling, but it quickly became apparent that the noise I heard was chants of “Obama! USA!” This was my first clue that Obama did, in fact, have it in the bag. You see, this isn’t New York City, or Chicago, where it was expected that people would take to the streets and celebrate (or riot). This is small town, private college, upstate New York. To hear these young voices, the voices of kids who, quite frankly, would be just fine regardless of who was elected President or what happens to the economy, so exuberantly yelling Obama’s name in the streets…well, it was jarring. I didn’t know what to make of it at first. These were the same kids that often display their privilege and entitlement to me daily at my work. These were the same kids that see nothing wrong with throwing a “pimps and hoes” party and inviting me, and then wondering why I’m offended. And then it hit me.

Yes, we are at The Cross Road, and The Cross Road can be a dangerous and scary place. There are things that must be accounted for, but we don’t have to be afraid to be “out after dark” anymore.

Being at The Cross Road isn’t about heroes or heroines, instead, it is about us. Papa Legba is a symbol showing us our potential–allowing or denying us the right to move to a higher level as we see fit. So it is with the first Black President of the United States. I don’t write this to try and diminish the amazing accomplishment that Barack Obama has achieved. Nor do I wish to suggest that Barack Obama is nothing more than “a symbol.” I, like most of you, am proud and excited beyond belief at Obama’s victory. That the most predominant figures of Black people in the United States are intelligent, responsible, good people rather than some wannabe gangsta with weak rhyme skills is something I’ve longed to see for some time now. President-Elect Obama, however, is simply showing us a new path. It is us that must walk it.