I'm rather ashamed that I hadn't noticed the references to minstrelsy in relation to Basketball in White Boy Shuffle. They're really quite obvious, particularly the costume Gunnar wears to his last game. That one I caught, but the extent of my thoughts on the passage were something like "Hm. White on his mouth. Black-face, maybe?" I'll try to be more thoughtful when I read from now on, because the book is surprisingly deep. On the surface it seems comedic and plot based, but it's often really thoughtful. I guess good comedy often is.
I think there are several components to Beatty's commentary on the world of sports, not all of which are related to race. An important part of the troublesome dynamic takes place even in Hillside, in the absence of white culture. Mostly what the book's getting at, I think, is the dehumanizing aspect of fame in general, but there seems to be something particularly bad about gaining fame for something like athletics (which Gunnar hasn't even put a lot of effort into).
This is hinted at even before basketball becomes Gunnar's claim to fame. he makes an interesting comment in response to Coach Shimimoto's complaints about being called "Coach". "Coach, if you want to be an authority figure, you've got to live with the dehumanizing consequences," Gunnar tells him. In a sense, Shimimoto's position is very different from Gunnar's, but in that it is a position that people look up to, and therefore defines you and overshadows your humanity, they're somewhat analogous. Taking a job in the limelight thrusts an image onto you, whether you like it or not, to the extent that even your wife will be addressing you by your occupational title.
At this point in the story, Gunnar doesn't really seem to sympathize with Shimimoto, but perhaps if he were to look back on his coach's complaints after his experience at high school, he would understand. While at first his status as a basketball god seems to be his way into the culture he's been trying to assimilate with, it quickly develops into an issue for Gunnar. He doesn't actually seem to make any friends through basketball, because he's not really one of their peers anymore, he's something more: a prize to the girls, a legend to the guys.
Another issue with the sports system is made particularly obvious at basketball camp. Here, the dynamic between the coaches/officials and the players is criticized. The players are seen as game-winning machines, their health and skills studiously measured. Race comes into play more here, as we witness mostly black teens being thoroughly controlled by white men. This certainly calls to mind images of slavery, but here I'm trying to talk about minstrelsy, so how does that come into play? Well, it's more obvious in later sections of the book, because at camp they lack an audience, but the concept of young black men performing for the sake of at least partly white groups, playing into stereotypes built around their skills (singing and dancing/basketball), and being defined solely by these stereotypes is familiar.
Of course, the dynamic is most obvious when Gunnar becomes a young black guy who is the star player for an all white audience. So obvious, in fact, that he points it out himself in his minstrel costume (the big painted on lips and gloves, undignified posture, etc.) at his last game. Nobody seems to understand. They all obliviously cheer his goofiness on. It's a little painful to read, but it makes Gunnar's point beautifully.
Basketball gives him an interesting power over his audience's emotions, as he notices while making a free throw for Hillside, which I imagine goes along (to some extent) with any sort of performance. So, maybe even minstrelsy. But this comes at a price: dehumanization and stereotyping. The kids at the rich school are excited to play with him because he's a back basketball player, a manifestation of a vague stereotype, not because they're legitimately interested in Gunnar as a person.
Sports in general are kind of a weird thing. The players may enjoy the game, but there's so much stress and pressure associated with athletics, it's hard to imagine they really enjoy playing competitively all that much. Really, the sports are for the spectators. So, the life of a star athlete may seem glamorous, but they become very much defined by their entertainment value.
You make an important point near the end here, about how maybe any kind of performance entails at least the illusion of power over an audience--even if the performance appears degrading or self-effacing (and this is connected to the minstrelsy legacy--most performance, no matter what the race of the performer or audience, is not inherently degrading or self-effacing), the performer still "hypnotizes" that audience, as Gunnar realizes standing at the free-throw line. I think he gets his first taste of this at the Shakespeare monologue competition, when he takes the power back and stuns the patronizing crowd into silence. There can be a real power to be found in the spotlight or behind the microphone, but as Ellison's narrator discovers, that power can render one invisible as well. Like so much else in these novels (and our culture), it's complicated.
ReplyDeleteI think in Scoby's case this is even more severe--he is sort of a myth-come-true of a black boy who never misses a basketball shot... which must magnify all the pressure. He's sort of like a character for people to come look at. It must have been... confining?
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