During the 20th century, the quest for identity in African-American life and literature is obstructed by the fact that identity is dictated by color, rather than what an individual projects. The resulting mode of existence for African-Americans is marked by what W.E.B. Du Bois, in his text, The Souls of Black Folk, calls “double-consciousness,” and a sense of invisibility in the presence of oppression. For Du Bois, double-consciousness is a concept that describes a divide between one’s true self and how that self is observed by others (2). An individual with double-consciousness feels at once like both an American and an African-American, and cannot reconcile the two identities. This parallels Ralph Ellison’s conception of invisibility in his novel, The Invisible Man, wherein one's identities and actions are unrecognized by oppressors who only view African-Americans through a distorted lens. Both internally and externally, African-Americans feel this sense of invisibility as they are judged externally and subsequently obtain a new sense of self-consciousness internally.
The first topic of interest, that of double-consciousness, is expressed in the first essay in The Souls of Black Folk, titled “Of Our Spiritual Strivings.” Du Bois writes that,
“The Negro is a sort of seventh son, born with a veil, and gifted with second-sight in this American world,—a world which yields him no true self-consciousness, but only lets him see himself through the revelation of the other world. It is a peculiar sensation, this double-consciousness, this sense of always looking at one’s self through the eyes of others, of measuring one’s soul by the tape of a world that looks on in amused contempt and pity” (2).
At first glance, this short excerpt may appear to be just that—short and only indicative of a small portion of a grander, more comprehensive picture—yet the idea of double-consciousness reaches far and wide, from its philosophical and social notion, to its psychological consequence. In fact, the idea of double-consciousness is the central problem in American racism for the African-American. After all, consciousness is the interface of knowing—an interface in which we are all equally attached and confined to, regardless of race.
What then, makes African-Americans feel their “twoness” (2) as Du Bois posits? What is exclusive in the consciousness of the African-American population that the white population does not possess? First, that they are born with a veil. The significance of the veil comes from its purpose of masking, the actual function of one being to cover or hide the face from view. In the context that Du Bois places the veil though, its significance is extended. Rather than being born on one side or another of the veil, African-Americans are “born with a veil.” It is not outside of them, but within. The existence of the veil results in the obfuscation of both black and white parties. White people do not see black people as “true” Americans, and African-Americans only see themselves through the descriptions white America prescribes for them. Thus, just as a white individual cannot see the black individual beyond the attribute of color, the black individual cannot see the white beyond what negative prescription they give.
Second, as a result of the veil, the existence of double-consciousness and a lack of a true self-consciousness manifests itself. This idea of lacking a true self-consciousness and possessing a duality in mind can run parallel to the notion of the “unhappy consciousness”, as posited by the German philosopher Georg Wilhelm Friedrich Hegel, in The Phenomenology of Spirit, (a text which heavily inspired Du Bois). Hegel writes, more or less, that the “unhappy consciousness” results from a consciousness at odds with itself (123). Explained in a deeper manner, consciousness is the finite, dependent aspect of knowledge (sometimes referred to as desire), while the self-conscious is the infinite, independent identity possessed (the social human). The unhappy consciousness perpetually strives to reunite the finite with the infinite, so that the stress of duality will cease.
This may all seem to be leaving the realms of double-consciousness, as posited by Du Bois, but the metaphysical theory is essential to understanding the more grounded and specific plight of African-Americans that Du Bois suggests. Moreover, the Du Boisian double-consciousness is, at its core, a recontextualization of the “unhappy consciousness.” Sandra Adell, in her text, Double-Consciousness/Double Bind: Theoretical Issues in Twentieth-Century Black Literature writes, “it [double-consciousness] creates a rupture between… [the] technical term [“unhappy consciousness”]… and its historical and traditional context—German Idealism in all of its manifestations—and opens it up to other contexts” (19). Hegel being a contextual philosopher, (a philosopher who represents his ideas in a historical-temporal frame) in turn, limits the application of those ideas across differing narratives. Du Bois restructures the “unhappy consciousness” in specifics, but not fundamentally, to fit the distinct troubles of African-Americans in the 20th century.
Returning to the question at hand: how exactly does the “unhappy consciousness” run parallel to “double-consciousness” and, more specifically, to identity? Well, for an individual stuck in a world wherein everyone else is an other by virtue of the color-line, this duality of mind discussed by Du Bois is especially manifest, albeit in a different manner to fit the context. There is still constant striving present to reconcile the self-consciousness with the suppressed consciousness. For African-Americans, however, reconciliation between consciousness and self-consciousness is impossible, because their consciousness is never recognized and only physical features such as color determine one's identity. As a result, consciousness is divided and becomes a dual-natured, contradicting being (think back to the ever-present veil’s effect on identity). To aid the context, think of consciousness as desire. Generally, consciousness desires things that are conducive to positive feelings, like the attainment of an identity, but because of the restrictive, racial constructs in place, and the idea that one is only able to see themselves “through the revelation of the other world”, (2) these things are generally unavailable. In this recognition or lack thereof, self-consciousness recognizes consciousness as a being rather than being, transcending the limits of consciousness, itself. In other words, consciousness becomes objectified. In extension, the other is now recognized as belonging to the same realm as consciousness, by reason of consciousness’ extrinsic identification. Further separation of the two souls of African-Americans is a natural consequence of this external predicament.
A further understanding of this lack of true self-consciousness presents itself in Alain Locke’s The New Negro, wherein Locke describes the titular concept as an individual whom stresses “self-assertion and self-articulation” and “replace[s] the racist stereotype of the ‘Old Negro,’” which “included passivity, accommodation, and lack of education.” (“New Negro,” The African American Experience) The “Old Negro” lacks a true self-consciousness and experiences the same disconnect with the world as the aforementioned individual of “double-consciousness.” What Locke goes on to describe is another aspect of this consciousness in its social relation. The “Old Negro,” according to Locke is “a formula more than a human being” (The Norton Anthology of African-American Literature, 974). They represent a distorted perspective of oneself, because of how others perceive them, and this perspective reigns supreme over personality. A situation such as this presents no true self-understanding. An individual in this predicament can have no rapport with others, even those in the same predicament as they are: mentally and physically segregated. Again, in the words of Locke, “The chief bond between [the black population] has been of a common condition rather than a common consciousness” (976). No real community or rapport can be created without the true self, as this self is necessary in building a community that is not controlled by another.
Thrust into an unfair world, African-Americans experience existential and psychological dread at the hands of the racial constructs in place; dread that ultimately stems from the fact that unalterable physical characteristics determine the manner of self-conscious existence. Humans, being the social creatures they are, by many lengths can only truly know themselves through affiliation with others. When authority is against an individual, and those who are likewise being oppressed are subject to the same torture of insignificance, self-assertion is not a known option. In many cases, this dread can reveal itself by instilling a sense of invisibility (or lack of desired, earned identity) in the African-American.
In Charles Chesnutt’s Po’ Sandy, the “colored coachman” (1) of the story “Julius McAdoo” uses his perceived identity (and consequential invisibility) as a means of gathering sympathy and donation from the white couple he works for by telling a story that on the surface seems innocent enough; a story of struggle and grief—but one that is designed to moralize the white couple, with its layered depictions of racial struggle and identity. In the story, Sandy, a slave, wishes to escape from the identity of slavery, or the identity of property that he has been tethered to for his whole life. So, he asks his wife, Tenie, to turn him into something else so he can experience freedom. After he asks, his wife, being a “cunjuh-’ooman,” (conjuring woman) inquires as to what he would like to be. She asks if he would “wanter be turnt inter a rabbit,” to which Sandy replies “No, de dogs mout git atter me” (3). Additionally, if Sandy were a rabbit, he would once again be turned into an object of prey. After the offer is turned down, Tenie asks “‘shill I turn yer ter a wolf?”, to which Sandy replies, “No, a hawk mout ketch me. I wanter be turnt inter sump’n w’at’ll stay in one place” (3). In the end Tenie, after listening intently, decides to turn Sandy into a tree, so he can stay in one place and stop having to constantly move around according to the whims of a master.
To the woe of Sandy, and especially Tenie, after Sandy is transformed, the tree he becomes is cut down. Tenie then succumbs to intense grief and dies in the nearby schoolhouse, which Sandy then haunts. Though this event is inherently upsetting, it also speaks volumes about the nature of slavery and the seeming impossibility of escape. Despite Sandy’s attempts to escape, he cannot even after being turned into a tree, owing to the fact that a tree is unmoving and defenseless. A tree is still subject to the unsympathetic exploitations of external forces, namely humans, who see the tree as mere property and lacking any true identity, just like Sandy.
Therein lies yet another problem with invisibility: the quandary of how to attain freedom when one is unseen. Responsibility and freedom go hand in hand; one cannot exist without the other. What is responsibility when one is not free to make their own choices, and similarly, what is freedom when the choices are predetermined? After all, it was Jean-Paul Sartre, in his work, Existentialism is a Humanism, who said, “man is condemned to be free” (29). One is condemned to stand by and be responsible for every action they commit—them, and no one else. Freedom lies in choice. Sandy wishes to escape from slavery by putting his faith into the power of another (Tenie,) and expects to attain freedom through becoming a tree, not changing his identity (or responsibility,) but merely shifting its appearance. Sandy desires freedom while continuing to evade the responsibility of it, due almost entirely to the fact that he is invisible, and accordingly cannot project his true self and claim his responsibility. Freedom is forever elusive to Sandy until death due to his invisibility. Of course, it is not Sandy’s fault, yet the impossible situation persists.
To reinforce this idea of responsibility and freedom even further, one can look to Ralph Ellison’s Invisible Man, wherein the titular character states that, “[i]rresponsibility is part of my invisibility; any way you face it, it is a denial” (13). The Invisible Man is fully aware of the effect of invisibility, but is also aware of the fact that, because of its presence, he cannot claim responsibility. He continues to say, “to whom can I be responsible, and why should I, when you refuse to see me?” A sense of being perceived by others is inextricably tied to The Invisible Man’s sense of responsibility.
Invisibility plays a role in the character of Julius in Po’ Sandy, as well, albeit in a more positive manner. He uses his ostensibly honest and loyal identity to trick the white couple into letting him convert the schoolhouse into a place of worship so that Julius and his friends can use it for their own needs. He continues on to explain that the ghost of Sandy would never interrupt something religious and that the worship itself may help appease Sandy’s eternal soul. Still, it’s important to remember that while invisibility does have its positive attributes its effects are primarily detrimental to the psyche.
On another note, Chesnutt uses dialect in Po’ Sandy as a means of further exemplifying the pain that slavery causes. According to Thomas White Jr, in his essay, Languages for America,
“[Nancy] Bentley (an English professor at UPenn) suggests that Chesnutt’s use of a southern negro dialect ‘redoubles its ironic power by making the conventions of plantation fiction, so often apologist in tone and effect, obliquely expose the violence and humiliation at the heart of southern slavery’ (201). For Bentley, Chesnutt’s dialects both acknowledge and rewrite the conventions of the plantation tradition.”
Irony is at the core of Po’ Sandy, especially in the character of Julius, as he weaves his layered tale. Julius’s perceived identity makes the irony of Sandy’s tale that much greater.
Another question, and undoubtedly the most important, must be asked about the issue of identity and invisibility in a racist world: what can be done about it? Du Bois posits, in his essay Criteria of Negro Art, that African-American art has the potential to be a universal, objective beauty, rather than a subjective one. He states this in consideration of the fact that the African-American population is marginalized and has no concern for the pretentious nature of contemporary art, but rather the beauty of a perfect world, unchained by mere participation of beauty. Du Bois also states that, thanks to the marginalization of the African-American and the false beauty present, “all art is propaganda and ever must be, despite the wailing of the purists… I do not care a damn for any art that is not used for propaganda” (The Norton Anthology… 776). Art is a tool of justice and must be used for attaining justice, and consequently true beauty, according to Du Bois.
In The Invisible Man, despite the upsetting nature of invisibility, Ellison sets an example in writing of what African-Americans must do in the presence of invisibility—claim responsibility, regardless of the obstacles in place. Only once responsibility is taken can one really progress toward freedom and true self-identity. Ellison promotes the power that everyone holds inside and urges the reader to never believe those external factors that try to suppress that internal power. In relation to internal powers, in The Souls of Black Folk, Du Bois says that the education of African-Americans is essential to claiming responsibility and identity, as knowledge offers the opportunity to rise “above the veil” (67) that restricts progressive action.
African-American literature during the 20th century is marked by a newfound shrewdness in the prominent writers of the time. Writers like Du Bois, Ellison, and Chesnutt embody this new level of insight, with their conceptions of ideas such as “double-consciousness” and the syndromes and effects invisibility has on the African-American identity. They realized just how deeply affected the African-American population was by the influence of the outside world and its denizens.
Works Cited
Adell, Sandra. Double-Consciousness, Double Bind: Theoretical Issues in Twentieth-Century Black Literature. University of Illinois Press, 1994.
Chesnutt, Charles Waddell. Po' Sandy. University of Virginia Library, 1996.
Du Bois, W. E. B. (William Edward Burghardt). The Souls of Black Folk. Dover Publications, Inc., 1994.
Ellison, Ralph. Invisible Man. Vintage Books, 1995.
Gates, Henry Louis, and Nellie Y. McKay. The Norton Anthology of African American Literature. W.W. Norton & Co., 1996.
Hegel, Georg Wilhelm Friedrich. The Phenomenology of Spirit. Edited by Michael Baur. Translated by Terry Pinkard, Cambridge University Press, 2018.
"New Negro." The American Mosaic: The African American Experience, ABC-CLIO, 2018, africanamerican2.abc-clio.com/Search/Display/1399801. Accessed 10 Dec. 2018.
Sartre, Jean-Paul, et al. Existentialism Is a Humanism. Yale University Press, 2007.
White Jr, Thomas Lee. “Languages for America”: Dialects, race, and national identity in nineteenth-century American literature. The University of Oklahoma, 2011.