House Slaves, Field Slaves and the Obama Predicament

by Mark P. Fancher

How does a present day House Negro behave? Would such people recognize themselves as successors to the House Slaves of old? Could one become president of the United States? What about the political heirs to the Field Slaves? And where would one find the Big House in the modern era? "Barack Obama's efforts to enter the biggest of big houses in American politics," writes the author, "has allowed us to see in the clearest way possible that the price of access is doing whatever it takes to make white people like you." Huge numbers of African Americans agree with "every word Rev. Jeremiah Wright has uttered," while at the same time Black support for Obama is near-unanimous. Where does "house" end and "field" begin?

In his book, Africa and Africans in the Making of the Atlantic World, 1400 - 1800, author John Thornton confirms the long-held anecdotal presumption that enslaved Africans who worked in the plantation "big house" had a better quality of life than those who worked in the fields.

Thornton states:

"The contrast between the life of a domestic servant, residing in the owner's house, perhaps well dressed and not necessarily overworked, and that of the plantation slaves and field hands is well illustrated by the case of two Brazilian domestics, Ines and Juliana. These two pampered slaves, raised among the Europeans and sharing in their lives, testified against their master, Paulo Affonso, to the Inquisition of Bahia in 1613-14, and in reprisal, their master ordered them transferred as field hands to his sugar estate at Itapianga. There, a short time later they were both dead, victims of ‘many whippings and bad life and labor.'"

It is likely that as a consequence of these and comparable incidents, many enslaved Africans who toiled and suffered in the fields recognized their limited life options, and set their sights on a place on the master's domestic staff. If the fate of Sisters Ines and Juliana is any indication, disloyalty, insolence and recalcitrance were not qualities that were tolerated in a house slave, and a slave could win a coveted position in the big house only if he or she could assure the master that there would be no efforts to slip poison into the slave owner's food, or kill him as he slept.

However, masters had no guarantee of docility. In his book Runaway Slaves, distinguished historian John Hope Franklin observed:

"Even slaves who were thought to be mild mannered and obedient sometimes reached a breaking point. Having never reacted violently, the house servant of a Louisiana woman ‘returned the blow' as she was being physically chastised by her owner, threw her mistress to the ground, and ‘beat her unmercifully, on the head and face.' The white woman's face swelled up and turned black. ‘I could not have known her, by seeing her,' a visitor at the plantation said a few weeks later, ‘poor little woman is confined to bed yet' and remains ‘dangerously ill.'"

Thus, a house slave - or an African who aspired to become a house slave - was faced with the choice of either pleasing the master at all costs in order to preserve a relatively privileged position, or, resolve that even if there were benefits to living under the master's roof, they were not worth losing the little bit of dignity and self-respect that even a slave might have if he or she was willing to fight for them.

Africans may have ultimately moved off of the plantation, but many continue to seek their place in the big house. Modern big houses may be executive positions in major corporations - or even entry level jobs. A big house might be tenure on a university faculty, or a partnership in a major law firm. The shared characteristic of all of these "big houses" is that in some way, shape or form, the aspirant must gain favor with gatekeepers. To accomplish this, Africans must frequently suppress or conceal much about themselves that connects them to their culture. Speech patterns and slang used at home give way to "corporation speak." Otherwise natural hair is relaxed. Jokes told in the board room that aren't funny to most Africans are laughed at anyway. A brother who might normally prefer to spend Saturday afternoon shooting hoops will grudgingly find himself on the golf course with his white co-workers.

Barack Obama's efforts to enter the biggest of big houses in American politics has allowed us to see in the clearest way possible that the price of access is doing whatever it takes to make white people like you. Thus, Obama has found himself in the pathetic position, of essentially trudging through rural America with hat in hand, trying to convince white people - many of them bigots - that he is "safe," and not at all like those "other blacks." Reverend Jeremiah Wright's rhetoric has been blamed for having a destructive impact on the Obama campaign. But the truth is, if the pastor had never spoken a word, in the minds of white America, Wright's mere presence would still have proclaimed: "Obama is just like all of those other Negroes!" What's more, it has been interesting to observe how so many Africans who have come to identify strongly with the Obama campaign react when Reverend Wright or anyone else actually says things that threaten to shatter the illusion of the "black man who isn't black." In one form or another, we have heard a loud chorus of: "Hush now! Don't let them white folks hear you!"

Has it really come to this? Have our people forgotten that Malcolm X, the Panthers, John Carlos, Tommie Smith, Kwame Ture and countless others stood up so that we would never again have to kneel meekly before "The Man"? What happened? Have our people on a mass level adopted a house slave mentality? Not likely. After all, the Detroit Branch of the NAACP and 11,000 Africans who attended its Freedom Fund Dinner, displayed the spirit of the field slave when they welcomed Reverend Wright into their presence as an act of defiance. Not only that, there are no doubt millions of other Africans who agree with every word Reverend Wright has uttered.

No, the irony is that in many cases, the near fanatic support for Obama (notwithstanding the candidate's obsession with calming white fears) is in many cases fueled by field slave impulses. In general, those impulses drive the field slave to take that which is forbidden, to walk through doors that have been locked, and to (whenever possible) rub success in the face of the oppressor. As the field slaves watch Obama march steadily toward a position that a black man is not supposed to have until the passage of at least another generation, they can't help but get caught up.

Only time will tell whether the unrelenting beating that Obama has taken in recent weeks for no reason other than he happens to be African will be the cold slap in the face that reminds the slaves out in the field that merely becoming a resident of the big house does not transform the new occupant into the master. Although many see value - even if only sentimental or symbolic- in electing a black president, it should become increasingly apparent that if the quest for a position in the big house compels a slave to abandon his pastor, ignore his community, commit to a corporate and Zionist agenda, and pander to bigots, then it is likely that once he moves in, he will have to stay with that program if he wants to keep his job.

On the plantation, it is likely that many of the field slaves who managed to talk their way into the big house entered fully conscious of the likelihood that the humiliation they would suffer there would reach intolerable limits. Those contemporary field slaves who live vicariously through would-be President Obama, will be well advised to, like their ancestors, continue their journey toward 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue with open eyes, and a frank realization that the presidency is not a political panacea - and possibly not even a palliative pill for the ills of America's African population. If we are to achieve genuine liberation, all political options, including revolution must not only remain open, but be pursued as though the world had never heard of Barack Obama.

Mark P. Fancher is a human rights lawyer, writer and activist. He can be contacted at mfancher@comcast.net.