Event Review: The Sherlock Holmes You Never Knew: Black American Adaptations, Then and Now

I attended The Sherlock Holmes You Never Knew: Black American Adaptations, Then and Now presented by Provost Ann McClellan. The event was held in Old Main. I chose this event because quite frankly, I had very minimal knowledge on Sherlock Holmes and absolutely zero on black adaptations of the character. All I knew was that Sherlock Holmes was a fictional character and I saw an ad once for a movie with Robert Downey Jr playing him. I figured that if I was going to attend an event, why not do something that is very new to me, to maximize the learning potential. I had no idea that Sherlock Holmes had this massive cult following, with an exclusive fan club of members from around the world and I wasn’t aware of the rich culture and history, and atrocities revolving around black adaptations of the character. Not only did we learn about Sherlock Holmes and the black culture around it, but we also learned a lot of history involving African American music, Broadway, and other cinema history and terms such as whitewashing and race bending.

What I found very interesting was in the beginning the speaker mentioned a very common theme in the Sherlock Holmes community, “you don’t talk about race in Sherlock Holmes.” Later finding out that Holmes is the most played fictional character of all time, and most of his fandom is predominantly white males from England. I found it very weird that something as silly as a Character playing the role as a detective in an often-comedic setting would be surrounded by so much exclusion and racism. There were even instances when black actors would apply burnt cork to their skin to appear even more “black” to fit a racist, white narrative. In most adaptations they used somewhat off brand names and roles like Shylock “shy” Homestead who was played by Bert Williams the actor who applied the burnt cork to his skin. This play was the first all-black musical on Broadway. There were also very racist titles such as. “The Two Real Coons.”  They would also change minor details about the outfits, especially the hat which was famously known for being the major identifier for Sherlock Holmes.  On a more positive note, finally in 1986 the elitest group of Sherlock Holmes fans allowed entry to their first black member, Philip Brogdon who lived up until 2021. Brogdon was an actor and writer as well. They even had one of the adaptations casts be invited to Buckingham palace.

The event was very informative and shocking. The speaker was very professional and an expert on the topic. I never would have known about Sherlock Holmes and black adaptations of him if it wasn’t for this. I probably would have gone my entire life without hearing about it. It’s a unique and treasured culture and a great example of perseverance and determination by the black community. If an opportunity comes up to attend this event or something similar, I highly recommend going to it.

 

 

Poems and Micro Aggressions

The last section of our readings for “Citizen: An American lyric” was filled with profound and somewhat confusing poems, at least at face value. I found myself reading them repeatedly to find something I can cling to when I write my blog post. I found myself getting frustrated the more I read, wishing to find something more tangible like an event or a story that I could just recite or relate to a statistic. I did not find that, but what I did find was a deeper understanding, realization, and interpretation of what I believe Rankine was trying to do. It’s too easy to get a reaction or response from a story you tell, or an account of what happened to someone.  A poem, an interpretive form of literature, forces an involuntary response, something raw, unedited, and genuine. If you want to gain anything real from a poem, you must read between the lines. Rankine is trying to invoke an organic reaction to racism and micro aggressions, not some trained response. Rankine could have ended the book with a story that provides closure, something to signify the end, but instead chose to have the readers think beyond the last page.

Responding to a poem and articulating your feelings towards it is a very intimate process, much more intimate than responding to a specific story or a data sheet with a death toll. Responses to poems are infinite and neither wrong nor right. Earlier in the book, we read and talked about Serena Williams, how awful the referees had treated her, and the blatant racism that was directed towards her. Our general responses to these stories were all relatively similar in that it was a horrible thing to have happened to her and a horrible thing that someone would have to go through. Now, poems are stories as well, but it’s how they’re told that makes a difference. On page 159 of Rankine’s poem, it states, “I can hear the even breathing that creates passages to dreams. And yes, I want to interrupt to tell him her us you me I don’t know how to end what doesn’t have an ending.” (159); this is infinitely interpretive and emotionally engaging.  You could spend hours wondering who she meant by, “him her us you me” (159). Also, what could she have meant by ending something that doesn’t have an ending? Could she be talking about racism? Maybe, maybe not. The point is that the answer isn’t right in front of your face. I think that encompasses what micro aggressions is are. It is something that seems to be nothing at face value, but once you read between the lines, and allow yourself to be vulnerable, you then start to realize what an impact your actions can have. For example, if you pull into a parking spot and notice that the person you are parked next to is black, but then you decide to move your car a few spaces over – it isn’t flagrantly racist, but implied. This is similar to the answer of a poem’s meaning not being obvious, but if you really look into it and internalize your actions, you will see how that behavior could be indirectly racist.

On the very last pages of the book, we see a painting. Paintings are also a form of interpretive art similar to poems. There are two pictures of the same painting but one is zoomed in to a specific section of the artwork. This hints at the idea that Rankine wants you to look closer; to pay more attention and think deeper into the meaning between the lines. I also feel that it conveys how everything is not always as it seems. At first glance, the painting just looks like a ship battling a storm, but when it is zoomed in, you realize the tiny details. Something may seem innocent at first but could be deeper and darker than it appears. I believe this is what Rankine intended: to end with something that cannot be ended, something that can always be altered or thought of indefinitely. She uses her poems and the paintings at the end of her book to suggest that the story isn’t over and that she doesn’t want our thoughts of racism and injustice to stop once we finish reading. In the final line of the last poem in the book, it states, “It wasn’t a match, I say. It was a lesson” (159); a match is something with a start and an end, but a lesson is something you carry with you for the rest of your life. Rankine’s use of poems and art to finish off her book was a brilliant way to encompass the full extent of the intricacies within poems and micro aggressions. Ultimately, she blended something beautiful with something ugly and hateful to symbolize the boundless complexities of racism.

 

 

Discussion questions

  1. Was there an example of micro aggressions in Rankine’s section of poems that stuck out to you? What made it impactful for you?
  2. Do you feel that the use of poems in African-American literature was a stronger way to convey the struggles and themes of racism than narrative stories? Why or why not?

Works Cited:

Claudia Rankine, Citizen : An American lyric (Graywolf 2014)

Introduction

Hi, I’m Conor. I am 26, I’m a transfer student. I’m an English major. I served in the army and I commute from Ithaca.

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