Spoiler Alert:
Black Boy is an autobiography written by Richard Wright. With added fictional elements, he narrates his impoverished life in Jim Crow South as well as the different kind of struggle he endures when relocating up North.
To be honest, I didn’t expect to enjoy the novel as much as I did. I was originally attracted by the artwork on the cover, unaware of the author or any of his previous work, and so I had started it without any expectations. But Wright went through some STUFF: abuse, extreme poverty, racism, death of a loved one as well as confrontations with religion, political ideology, and peer acceptance. I found it remarkable that he was able to tackle what really is a series of trauma so poetically and how self referential it was. Within the story, he talks about his journey teaching himself how to read and write as a path to freedom all while the reader is holding one of the fruits of his labor. Regardless of whatever parts were embellished, reading how much he overcame to make the very book I was reading was one of the things that drew me in so completely.
Fair warning, there is a lot of talk about racism in Black Boy. It was such a huge part of his reality, so of course it would be one of the main themes. But what I find unique about his experience was his admittance of not being able to follow the conventions of the time. He wasn’t good at racism, he couldn’t play the game as successfully as his peers and was often punished for it by white people and ostracized by his own. I’ve heard of the “uppity Negro”. It is a label that has survived in a form to this day. I’ve also, of course, heard about the defiant activist. Those are the main figures we learn in school. But what fascinated me was that Richard Wright in his days as a youth seemed to be neither. He was just someone who couldn’t do it and that’s the first time, I’ve heard racism experienced in that way.
The book is broken into two parts, part one of his time in the South and part two when he moved up North with the anticipation of a better life only to be met with more racism and strife disguised in a city boy outfit. It’s laughable in a somewhat dark sense because as I was reading this, I was making my own long train journey from the South to the North (although with obviously better conditions). But his story does remind me of my modern experience growing up in Virginia and moving to New York for school. I grew up in an area where the romanticized Confederate presence can still be found. I would have run-ins here and there that were stained with racism, however, they were often more covert. Dealing with cops following me home with their lights on, people crossing the street when they saw me, mother’s shielding their children from me, being denied services because they didn’t believe I lived in the neighborhood, and the multiple instances of groups chanting nigger were not things I expected to confront in the Yankee North. But I did and the feeling of false advertisement made it sting even worse. It’s interesting how the same sentiment can be expressed 60 years apart.
Another pervasive theme of the novel was hunger. The book was actually originally titled American Hunger, but was changed in its final compilation. American Hunger could be considered a double entendre, given that literal hunger pangs are a background character to many scenes written in the novel, so is the figurative hunger for knowledge and for a decent life. The majority of his youth contended with the clashing of the two. Having to grind while chronically hungry is a story that echoes across generations. As someone who deals with periods of food insecurity while chasing the impossible, learning of his eventual success as a writer and playwright felt like a collective win even if it doesn’t change one’s own odds.
I’ve come to learn that “success” is calculated from variable parts hard work, skill, and luck, and one doesn’t necessarily compensate for the others. However, if there was ever such thing as deserving, it would look like Wright’s come up. His childhood was robbed by survival and he was mostly surrounded by adults who didn’t know how or couldn’t nurture him as he was. His neglect by adults can be exemplified by his alcoholism before even entering school age. As a result, he started hustling young. Though his go getter attitude is admirable, even astonishing, I couldn’t help, but to feel that’s not how life is supposed to be despite the realities of what it was/is for him and many. It makes me think of the harms of hustle culture and how focusing on the hustle inevitably leads to the stunting of some other facet in life. His luck was that he made it out, it opened up a whole new world of culture and travel, but his old workmates weren’t standing with him. Realistically, most were either still hustling or dead.
One interesting turn towards the end of the book was his introduction to Communism. He ended up befriending some young communists and joining them as a member and one of their writers. The time of reading Black Boy coincided with me being invited to a Communist meeting myself. Communism is often depicted as a scary threat to freedom, we’re taught to view “comrades” as irrational, dangerous authoritarians, but my experience was rather pleasant. Regretfully, I don’t remember the name of the exact text that was discussed in the meeting, as my own copy ended up getting ruined in the rain during my travels, but it was a pamphlet guide on the ideals of communism as well as comments on some of the faults of man. In its brevity, it talked about universal subjects like group dynamics and the openings for dysfunction, the need for discipline, and spreading of the doctrine. When discussing with my friend, there was a comfortability and air of mutual respect when sharing the things I did/didn’t agree with. During the larger meeting, there were no qualms when I expressed my attendance was more so an openness than a full endorsement. Although the experience of Wright did not finish as smoothly, what I found in common outside of the ideology itself was the ferocity of youth and the audacity to suggest different.
Interestingly, in the afterward of the novel, which summarized his adult years, Wright continued a tumultuous relationship with the Communist Party and had believed that his involvement with the party put him under the suspicion of the US government. He talks about spies and being followed, and if you read my thoughts about the biography of Malcom X, you’d know the merit of allowing these type of conspiracies the benefit of plausibility. But touchingly, his epilogue highlighted the divergence from his former life. He went on to be exposed to a whole new world, an international stage. When returning decades later to meet his father, who had abandoned the family when Wright was a child, he found him in the same spot, a worn farmer.
