I’m in my Introduction to Contemporary Literature class wherein one of the TA’s has been elected to lead the lecture. At the outset she seemed nervous, but the nervousness was eventually shed to reveal a lack of preparation. Taking notes on my laptop I wrote: “I’m soooooooooooo falling asleep.” Amanda looked on, laughed.
Things did eventually pick up as we had become engrossed in our discussion of the Toni Morrison novel “Beloved”. For those of you who don’t know, it’s “Beloved” as in
Dearly beloved. The novel earned Morrison the prestige of being awarded a Nobel Prize for Literature and is a piece of historical fiction that delineates a picture of love, hate, family, and life set against the backdrop of the horrors of slavery.
So, we’re in class. I’m passing out when the TA asks the question, “What do we get out of the title?” Someone puts forth the idea of “dearly beloved we are gathered here today to…” This in itself is pretty strange when I think of it. Does this phrase front a funeral or a wedding? Some might say weddings and funerals are basically the same shit, but that is an entirely different article.
With the number of hands raised willing to shed some light on what the title Beloved might signify now dwindling, one young woman put this notion forward:
“Well, it’s got Be-Loved in there, and like, if you look at it like that it’s like the black peoples want to just be loved by the white people.”
She seriously said that.
I turned to look at my friend Greg. Greg is black. Greg is closing his eyes. Greg is wincing, his head tilting downward, slowly.
I feel his pain, but at the same time I’m trying to catch the laugh that was leaping out of my throat like a jack-in-the-box. I grab it, a little late. I let out something like a dog whose tail gets slammed in a closing door. I loud, tight, YIP!
But really.
Are you fucking serious? Slavery was just the black man’s want to be loved by the white man? At that instance I wished I was black so I could turn to this young woman and say, “Yea, that’s what it was all about. We just wanted a hug.”
Shortly after that nugget of idiocy dropped in the middle of class like a turd we went for break.
When we came back we were treated to a clip from the silver screen version of
Beloved that starred Oprah. After that we then listened to a one minute and thirty second clip of the bastardized version Moby created by way of using a keyboard and his less than an inch penis of Vera Hall’s 1937 recording “
Troubles So Hard”. After listening to it our TA lecturer asked, “What do you think of this?” On the other side of the lecture hall, a few rows up a young man whose hair resembled something that looked like a poodle had successfully mated with a mushroom offered this, “Well, the way I see it is that Moby created something around this woman’s song. He created something new, a new piece of art. Without Moby no one would know about this (Vera Hall’s) recording.”* This is where I sprung up and retorted, “So it’s cool if I take an ancient mummy, dance around with it and use it to film a music video.” The lecture hall erupted in laughter. The debate really took off here.
Someone, in defence of Moby said, “Well, I don’t see that what Moby’s doing is anything different than what Toni Morrison is doing with slavery.” Again, biting my tongue since our TA Tom had been giving Amanda and I cut-eye from the outset of the lecture, and since I had been informed that on a day that I fucked off early from school for no good reason Tom had berated the class on the subject of having respect for others. I held back but wanted so badly to yell the following at that retard, “Well, Toni Morrison is black and she's not writing this novel to make POP MUSIC. She's not making this for entertainment purposes and the fucking money she made of it was a
side effect rather than a
motive. Her motive in writing this novel, in the most basic sense, was to document the unheard history of the slaves, shit for brains.”
Oh, pop music. That reminds me. There was an idiot girl in the back who was comparing Madonna’s remake of the Don McLean’s
American Pie to what Moby did with Vera Hall’s
Troubles So Hard. Instantly I wanted to say, “Well, there’s a discrepancy there, hon. A) American Pie was and still is Pop music. B) Vera Hall’s song is a song about slavery C) Moby is changing the feel of the song by way of adding bass lines and gaudy beats.” Fuck. How do these people get into school?
I didn’t make a new years resolution, but I think I should now. Smash idiots with smarmy remarks when ever possible. Yeah, that's a good one.
*I’m paraphrasing and combine some other ignorant statements.
From undergrads to master’s students, to PhDers and College dropouts, we’re all guilty of spouting this kitschy phrase. The difference therein lies with what is meant by those who say it. I’ve said it, I admit. But I’ve said it not really believing it. I’ve said it because it’s a hip, fashionable, couture thing to say when you’re in the process of attaining your degree. If I really believed this sack-of-shit comment I wouldn’t be a university student. Instead, I’d be content to set my life in neutral, lugging around terracotta pots day to day, complaining about not being given enough responsibility, then complaining more when I’m given just that.
