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Books by Walter Mosley
What Next:
A Memoir Toward World Peace /
Life Out of Context /
Devil in A Blue Dress /
Fear of the Dark (audiobook )
Little Scarlet (An Easy Rawlins Novel) /
Cinamon Kiss (audiobook) /
This Year You Write Your Novel /
Fortunate Son
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Devil in a Blue
Dress and Cinnamon Kiss
An Exploration of
African American Financial Insecurity
and Its Impact on
Psychological Development
By Mimi Ferebee
| Mosley has never been a traditional
crime novelist…he writes to serve a cultural
agenda, and for him the mystery is less a
whodunit than a vehicle for exploring a way
of life.—David
Ulin, The Atlantic Monthly |
Walter Mosley, a
modern detective fiction writer, revolutionizes the
classic texts of Raymond Chandler and Dashiell Hammett
with his “Easy Rawlins” series. The author challenges
past brands of this genre, constructing a more complex
central character. With an African American protagonist,
Mosley limns a detective prototype through the lens of a
poor, black, single father. As a result, he evolves the
stapled wisecracking, forever drinking, tough guy
developed within past literature. His progressive craft
forces the reader to expand their perception on what
else can be synonymous with “private detective,” as
Chandler’s Philip Marlowe and Hammett’s Sam Spade fail
to represent the only basest for such characters.
Mosley illustrates a snapshot of the African American,
postwar experience (Gross 99), simultaneously weaving
cultural history and personal reminiscences into this
story.
His “Ezekiel
Rawlins” bestows raw insight into the financial and
psychosomatic structures of not only a black, male
community member, but also an urbanized private
investigator. A stark contrast to the philosophical
Marlowe, Mosley’s modern outsider grinds for desperate
compensation rather than an inherent pursuit of moral
justice. While this series unfurls Rawlins’ maturation
over an eighteen year epoch, the author’s first
installment,
Devil in A Blue Dress, and last,
Cinnamon
Kiss, represent a time machine in which we can examine a
black voice. Rawlins’ distinct junctures in these two
periods parallel one another, suggesting that while the
appearance of his society has evolved (i.e., gender
roles, economy, etc.), the struggles of the African
American community remain virtually unchanged.
This is a critical
point to analyze in Twenty-First Century America as the
themes of these texts continue to resonate. Thus, Mosley
exposes the general, hopeless tribulation of financial
instability while demonstrating the delicateness of
African American identity. By working to understand the
dynamic of this race and its prolonged hardship, one can
then attempt to create a realistic plan for resolution.
Whether it be an individual looking to strengthen the
foundation of his or her family, or an activist seeking
to help this population, the first step must be
exploring this plague of financial insecurity, and then
understanding its impact on psychological development.
* * *
From the opening
pages of the “Easy Rawlins” series, Mosley argues that
African American men are not only not created equal, but
also unprepared to handle inequity. After serving in
WWII, Rawlins returns home, prioritizes, and acquires
legitimate work as a laborer (Devil in A Blue Dress
6). Paralleled with poor African Americans in his
community, Rawlins struggles to maintain basic needs
despite employment. Described as a “tough guy with a
good heart [who] . . . combines the moral realism of a
Humphrey Bogart gumshoe with the barely checked race
rage of a Richard Wright antihero,” Mosley’s protagonist
represents an ordinary, black man who owns nothing but
his integrity and street smarts (Woods 135). Thus, when
unjustly fired, Rawlins cascades deeper into financial
insecurity.
This bleak, plot
introduction tones the series, creating literary
framework for both
Devil in A Blue Dress and
Cinnamon
Kiss. Moreover, Mosley makes a point to show that
Rawlins’ work ethic and honesty represent chief
attributes for maintaining employment, and his honorable
service to America further espouses good character. The
notion “fairness for all”, therefore, comes into
question as Mosley suggests that even when an African
American man ensures that his affairs are in order,
having been proofread, cleared of errors, and printed on
laminate paper, his efforts often go unmerited.
In an
introduction written for
Black Genius: African American
Solutions to African American Problems,
Walter Mosley states:
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[African Americans] are
brought up believing in equality, and to
some degree that belief is valid. . . . It’s
up to you to make a success of your own
life. That is the American myth. Why myth?
Because the promise does not necessarily
lead to reality. The promise is only a
possibility. It is just as possible to try
and to fail in America (7-8). |
The concept “American myth” represents foremost what
Mosley emphasizes in
Devil in A Blue Dress, later
accentuating in
Cinnamon
Kiss. A notion of
disparity, this theory rings loud for many poor, black
individuals. As a result, Mosley’s voice and attitude
intrude this story as he limns what an excellent worker
Rawlins represents, yet contrasts that with the
unforeseen reality of being fired.
Financial
shortcomings serve as a recurring motif throughout this
series; this overarching premise depicts fiscal
desperation as a channel towards greater insecurity. For
example, when offered an arbitrary job to locate a
missing Caucasian woman, Rawlins hesitates to consent.
Cognizant of ensuing danger, he determines that this
job would be reckless; yet, the finder’s fee represents
“the only way [he sees] to keep [his] house” (Devil in A Blue Dress 11). Setting aside fears and
blatant acknowledgement of a poor decision, Rawlins
accepts his first, investigative case.
Laced with
emblematic concerns, this scene demonstrates the
struggle of “having” and “keeping” a job, despite a good
work ethic, and the explicit brand of financial
instability and restricted, recovering options. Such
anxiety, as the text illustrates, cripples the black
community, enabling some members to make poor decisions
when desperate. Ezekiel Rawlins represents a prototype
of this population as Mosley paints an oxymoron, the
incongruous notion of good, black people completing
disagreeable tasks to first acquire and then
maintain a sense of equilibrium. The latter
illustration of poor decision making skills, as well as
notions on maturation and self-doubt, found the African
American milieu in which the author develops his
protagonist.
Throughout the
series, Ezekiel Rawlins exemplifies that insecure
psyches foster unhealthy attributes. As a result of
Rawlins’ myriad poor decisions, the text demonstrates
that repetitious, negative behaviors eventually become
learned, and are quite difficult to adapt. Unhealthy
customs—like Rawlins’ modifying beliefs and
values—simply to achieve a sense of everyday stability,
cause long-term stress, impacting development and
identity (McLoyd 333; Rosser 360).
Based on such
primordial facts, philosophers like the notable George
Santayana argue that individuals who do not wisely adapt
from mistakes are “condemned” to repeat them, cycling
poor decisions (Santayana, 137). In line with these
perspectives, Mosley argues that financial insecurity
may be co-morbid with poor decision-making. The two,
compounding one’s internal equilibrium, influence
psychological development. To accentuate this argument,
the author deliberately has Rawlins battling these
concerns in each novel. Having learned from previous
errors within not only
Devil in A Blue Dress, but also
the following eight books of this series (Red Death,
White Butterfly,
Black Betty,
A Little
Yellow Dog,
Gone’ Fishin,
Bad Boy Brawly
Brown,
Six Easy Pieces, and
Little Scarlet),
Rawlins wants to be confident in his decisions, as well
as financially stable.
He does not wish to
repeat past mistakes in
Cinnamon
Kiss but can
only express himself in the “natural, ‘uneducated'
dialect of his upbringing” (Devil in A Blue Dress
54). Consequently, his limitations often give way to
desperation, creating a catalyst for frantic, poor
behavior. Expounding additionally on the shortcomings
of such predisposition, psychological researchers like
Professor Martin Seligman of the University of
Pennsylvania argue that when individuals are placed in a
situation where the ultimate outcome appears independent
of their chosen response, those individuals learn that
their actions, whether positive or negative, are
ineffective (Seligman xi).
That being said,
what is there to drive a desperate individual to do the
“right thing” when his positive actions fail to lead to
constructive outcome? Seligman surmises that as a
result of learned helplessness, the individual (in this
case: Easy Rawlins) may accept a powerless persona as
part of his/her identity. These concepts litter the
previous scenes as well as the entire “Easy Rawlins”
series. The protagonist, with such psychological
dissonance at work, begins unhinged journeys, whatever
the costs, as means of securing a momentary sense of
stability.
Further developing
his notions on cycling poor decisions, learned
helplessness, and identity, Mosley recreates the
previous scenes from
Devil in A Blue Dress within
Cinnamon
Kiss. Desperate again for quick money,
Rawlins considers “[hitting] up” an armored car with his
old friend, Mouse (44). When asked, however, to help
locate Cinnamon Cargill, a Caucasian woman, Rawlins
chooses a legal method to obtain the money. This
opportunity allows him to demonstrate psychological
maturation through refined decision-making skills.
Even so, Rawlins
denotes internal conflict in regards to doing the right
thing: “I made ready to leave, knowing that I was being
a fool. I needed that money and I knew how powerful
white men could act” (Cinnamon
Kiss, 46). At this
junction in the narrative, Rawlins’ values appear
secure, evidenced by his strength in choosing to act and
his sense to avoid a quick scam as means of
accomplishing goals. On the surface, Rawlins’s options
seem clear cut, a mundane example of a good decision
versus a poor decision. The underlying text, on the
other hand, paradoxically suggests that both options
present paths from past mistakes. While Rawlins knows
that a legal path represents the better decision, the
protagonist recalls stark troubles when working in a
primarily white milieu.
For example, in
Devil in A Blue Dress, when Rawlins accepts his
first case to locate Daphne Monet, he almost drowns in
the political and social mayhem of white society; he
comes close to being jailed, nearly losing his freedom,
let alone his life in “the kind of tales that we called
‘lies’ back home in Texas” (Devil in a Blue Dress
66). Despite the dangerous flashbacks, Rawlins accepts
this challenge, opting to provide for his family.
The dissonance of
Rawlins’ character and action creates psychological
confusion for him. Mosley does an excellent job
developing an illusion of financial options for Rawlins
in
Cinnamon
Kiss, soothing the tragic tone of the
sequence.
The fact, though,
remains that Rawlins stays at-risk, “condemned to repeat
[the past]” (Reason in Common Sense 57); this
appears evident regardless of learning from poor
decisions. The text captures the protagonist’s
insecurity: “It wasn’t political ideas I didn't care
about or understand that made me mad. It was the idea
that I wasn't, and hadn't been, my own man” (Devil in A Blue Dress, 203). Throughout the “Easy Rawlins”
series, Mosley limns a theme of African Americans having
to repeat history, even after learning from their
pitfalls. This depiction represents a significant
aspect of Mosley’s literary, African American race,
remaining as critical to their financial and
psychological development as cultural identity.
The concept of
having to make unhealthy decisions as a means to acquire
momentary, financial stability defines his community.
Thus, it is not an issue of learning or incompetence,
but rather survival. The author demonstrates Rawlins’
maturation, showcasing the protagonist as he mentally
refines decision-making and problem solving skills
throughout the series. From 1948 through 1966, Rawlins
explores and challenges notions of good, evil, justice,
and injustice (Myrisades 193). He understands the
difference between right and wrong, security and
uncertainty. While juggling such complex subjects,
Rawlins maintains open communication with himself and
close friends.
Unlike Marlowe’s
poetry and chess sessions (recall The Big Sleep,
1939), Rawlins’ survival tactics allow him to not only
manage financial and psychological stress, but also
sustain a sense of cultural identity. With these
precautions being precisely executed, the text argues
that despite constructive efforts, black men may never
achieve a long-term sense of equilibrium. Though
pessimistic, the story reflects a raw illustration of
black struggle. The stressed-out tone pleads for change,
begging for resolution. Perhaps it is Mosley’s goal to
paint his picture so vividly that as we read, mentally
chanting Rawlins towards success, we too, begin to game
plan for our own struggles? He does not expose these
tribulations for readers to give up, becoming
indifferent within their fight, but rather seeks to
motivate. The underlying message urges readers to
identify with the protagonist—not simply learning from
him, but gaining strength from his story.
* * *
Walter Mosley uses
this series to advocate for the psychosomatic welfare of
African Americans. Throughout this story, he exposes the
tribulation of an everyday black existence, illustrating
that on his journey to achieve an illusion—or “American
myth” (recall Mosley’s statement in
Black Genius
7)—the black man often evades his own values and
judgment to attain fiscal and psychological security.
The text argues that blacks are deserted without
resources to achieve their desires, neglected when it
comes to basic rights, and often left to compromise
their own beliefs in order to attain daily means. As a
method of coping with this reality and surviving the
professional tasks before him, Rawlins uses himself as a
sounding board to discuss internal and external
concerns.
Consequent of
discord, he flits within confusion, revealing snapshots
of a poor individual trapped within an insecure
environment. It is critical to emphasize that Rawlins
never sought being a detective, but rather the
profession landed in his lap during a period of
financial desperation. Detective work existed as the
only option for Rawlins to maintain his home.
Therefore, in
Devil in A Blue Dress and
Cinnamon
Kiss, his investigations naturally become
overwhelming, ultimately unhinging his sense of self.
As the cases swathe
him, myriad people become murdered, and his involvement
makes him a primary suspect: “I kneeled there in front
of that dead man like a priest blessing a corpse brought
to him by grieving relatives. I don’t know his family
name or what he had done, I only knew that he was dead”
(Devil in A Blue Dress 100). In a short time
span, Rawlins transforms from an everyday man to a
dedicated detective, who is as interested in solving
cases as he is determined to reap his end payment.
Rawlins’ livelihood
now exists as a political contest where dirty tricks and
smoking guns pave the path to financial victory. A
drastic transformation from day laborer, Rawlins’ world
illustrates the reality of black men being tossed into
random professions, accepting responsibility for
arbitrary tasks as a means to survive. Mosley
attributes an “anything goes” type quality to some of
the males in this race, delineating the extent in which
its members will grind in order to meet their needs.
Yet, this behavior also highlights the population as
being at risk for a cultural, learned helplessness.
When the male
backbone of community begins to believe that his life
represents a situation where the ultimate outcome
appears independent of his response, not only he, but
his offspring as well, learn that their actions in life
may be ineffective. That being said, who then parades
the distinction between right and wrong, good and poor
decisions? Surely, not a protagonist drowning in
financial desperation, suffering from a shattering
identity and psychosomatic meltdowns. While financial
concerns are indeed universal, having psychological
insight into Ezekiel Rawlins provides narrowed
perspective on cultural matters that are shared
specifically by African Americans.
The protagonist
grants a viewpoint into issues that are distinctively
black; similar to the race’s genealogy, segregation and
the Underground Railroad, this series exposes a poor,
postwar, African America existence in Los Angeles. This
idea of a shared community distress is first developed
in the forties community of
Devil in A Blue Dress,
and then expounded within the sixties society of
Cinnamon
Kiss. The story, therefore, suggests that
these overarching themes of insecurity and instability
are not unique to the novel, or even a historical time
frame, but perhaps exclusive to an accurate depiction of
the race.
Even Mosley argues,
in lieu of his raw representation of African Americans
and their racially isolated struggles, that there has
been a cultural “absence” in past detective fiction. He
states: “One reason . . . is that black writers have
only recently entered the popular [genre] . . . Our
writers have historically been regarded as a footnote
best suited to address the nature of our own chains” (Dark
Matter 406). With this ideology to bear, Mosley
writes about black struggle, presenting the reader with
a delineation of not only a historic evolution but
racial development. We see into the heart of this race,
and while its soul cries out, having learned from past
mistakes, the story holds onto struggle, refusing to
demonstrate long-term strides.
In order to make a
mortgage payment in
Devil in A Blue Dress and to
provide for a sick daughter in
Cinnamon
Kiss, the
protagonist must jump head first into a sea of political
sharks. Consistently, this proves to be the “morally
right” decision, existing often as the only legal
option. The question that then presents itself is what
happens when one learns from past mistakes, but
resources are so scarce that the “right” decision is
unable to be made? Better yet, what does the
protagonist do when the “right” decision, existing as
the only legal option—the more dangerous and
disagreeable—proves unsuccessful?
As Rawlins barely
survives in both of these novels, truly on the skin of
his teeth, readers do not have to think further on these
matters. Given the themes of this story, financial
hardship, professional insecurity, psychological
instability, identity, etc., we must ask ourselves what
was to be of Rawlins if he had been unsuccessful? This
is in fact the ultimate question, representing the roots
to Mosley’s fictional, black community. When all else
fails, even with affairs in order, having been
proofread, cleared of errors, and printed on laminate
paper, how long can one’s efforts go unmerited,
rendering ineffective actions? The notion of Mosley’s
“American myth” rings out, weaving all of these matters
together (Black
Genius 8).
Rawlins can sleep
well at the end each novel; however, his efforts have
only bought him momentary stability, a flitting peace
that so many of his peers are still struggling to
achieve. So while the novels conclude with a sigh of
relief, there undoubtedly represents an underlying,
loitering, hum of tragedy. As a passenger in this story
for the past couple of decades, the reader should not
walk away satisfied. We should fear that, if there were
another novel in the sequence, the breadth of Rawlins’
peace would last but a chapter. With no novel
following, we are left to turn to our own lives,
reflecting. Snatching our newfound insight, we should
use Rawlins to help us create plans for our futures.
Understand that
while the appearance of society evolves (i.e., gender
roles, technology), the struggles of poor African
American communities will remain unchanged if we do not
work towards realistic resolution. Now that we
understand the nature of this fight—the plague of
financial insecurity and its impact on our
development—we must grab our sons, our daughters, our
neighbors and their children, explaining all that we
have learned. Speak out about our history, so we can
learn how to better prepare our futures. Surely, by
speaking up, we can drown the mythical ringing and the
tragic hums that currently orchestrate the baseline of
our song.
Works Cited
Bland, Eleanor T.
Shades of Black: Crime and Mystery
Stories by African American Writers. New York: The
Berkley Group, 2004.
Gross, Terry.
All I Did Was Ask. New York: WHYY,
Inc., 2004.
McLoyd, Vonnie C. “The Impact of Economic Hardship on
Black Families and Children: Psychological Distress,
Parenting and Socioemotional Development”. Child
Development. 61(1990): 311-46.
Mosley, Walter.
Cinnamon
Kiss. New York: Little,
Brown and Company, 2005.
Mosley, Walter.
Devil in A Blue Dress. New York:
Pocket Books, 1990.
Mosley, Walter, Manthia Diawara, Clyde Taylor, and
Regina Austin.
Black Genius: African American
Solutions to African American Problems. New York: W.
W. Norton & Co., Inc., 1998.
Myrsiades, Kostas.
Race-Ing Representation : Voice,
History, and Sexuality. Lanham, Md. Rowman &
Littlefield, 1998.
Rosser, Barkley J. “Belief: It’s Role in Economic
Thought and Action”.
American Journal of Economics and Sociology.
52(1993): 355-368.
Santayana, George.
Reason in Common Sense.
Massachusetts: The MIT Press, 1905.
Seligman, Martin.
Helplessness: On Depression,
Development and Death. New York: Times Books, 1975.
Soitos, Stephen F.
The Blues Detective : A Study of
African American Detective Fiction. Amherst:
University of Massachusetts Press, 1996.
Thomas, Sheree R.
Dark Matter. New York: Warner
Books, Inc, 2000.
Woods, Paula L.
Spooks, Spies, and Private Eyes.
New York: Doubleday, 1995.
Mimi Ferebee
is the editor-in-chief of
RED OCHRE PRESS, overseeing
the publication of both RED OCHRE LiT and ROLiT NEWS. A
graduate of the College of William and Mary, she
received degrees in both English & Psychology. Mimi’s
literary work has been featured in several journals,
magazines and reviews, including Caper Literary
Journal, Cherry Blossom Review, Flutter
Poetry Journal, Leaning House Press,
Contemporary World Literature, Both Sides Now,
Bewildering Stories, Houston Literary Review
and Decanto Magazine (UK). Her full length poetry
collection, Shape Shifts & Other Masqued Transitions,
will be published by Patasola Press (2011). Her
essay “Devil in a Blue Dress and Cinnamon Kiss: An
Exploration of African American Financial Insecurity and
its Impact on Psychological Development” will be printed
in the fall by
Psychedelic Literature, while her
essay “Is Your Daughter Planning to Sell Her Virginity:
On the Road to a Notion of Feminism” debuts April 2011
in TawdryBawdry. If you enjoy the latter piece, be sure
to read her “Start Early, Don't Stop: Mother's Road to
Sex Education” in the June issue of Tidewater Women
Magazine.
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Walter Mosley on Writing
I didn’t start off writing
detective novels. The first thing I wrote was Gone Fishin’, which is
Easy Rawlins and Mouse, but it wasn’t a detective novel. I sent it out,
and everybody said to me, "Well, it’s good writing, but who’s going to
read this?" And I go, "What do you mean?" Said, "Well, you know, white
people don’t read about black people. Black women don’t like black men.
And black men don’t read. So who’s going to read your book?" And so, you
know, I accepted it. A lot of people, their first book, don’t get
published.
So I went back, and I wrote another
book about Easy and Mouse, but this time it was a mystery. And everybody
was like, "Wow! That’s great! A black detective!" One guy actually said,
"But, you know, there already is a black detective." And I said, "Well,
you know, there’s a whole bunch of white detectives." And he goes, "I
don’t see what you mean by that." But that worked.
And then it worked in ways that I
didn’t expect, because everybody reads mysteries, and they don’t care
who the detective is. They care about the mystery itself. And then a
world gets revealed throughout that. You know, that starts with Sherlock
Holmes. You know, he kind of reveals the whole empire through those
short stories. And so, I just said, "Wow! This is really great. This is
working. I’m getting all kinds of people to read this book." And, you
know, and that’s really wonderful. . . .Well, you know, I’ve always been
really bad in school. I can’t study anything I’m not interested in, or
that I don’t—I can’t see a direct reason for studying it. And that was
always a really bad thing. I always tell people that, you know, if
you—well, if you come to, like, a young black woman and she’s going to
be a writer, she’ll say—you’ll say, "Who influenced her?" And she’ll
say, "Well, Phillis Wheatley and Zora Neale Hurston and Alice Walker and
Toni Morrison and Edwidge Danticat and Zadie Smith." She’ll say names to
you that will make you put her in higher esteem. You know, you’re going
to be like Toni Morrison.
The truth is, you learn how to read
when you’re a kid. Who influenced you was Nancy Drew, right? If you read
Beloved at the age of eight, you would either kill yourself or your
mother, right? You know, I mean, you’d say, "Mom, I read this book, and
I don’t buy it. You know, so one of us has to go." I mean, that’s what
you would say. You have to be an adult. But when you learn how to read,
you’re a child. You love literature. It’s real. You really experience
it. Your imagination is the most powerful it will ever be. You’re closer
to your unconscious than you will ever again be. So you read these
things that are not great literature, as E.M. Forster talks about in his
book about writing. But you take the things that you love, and you make
them into something.
So, like I’m really influenced by
the stories my father told about his childhood. I’m very influenced by
comic books: Jack Kirby and Stan Lee and Marvel Comics really kind of
structured my life. Later on, you know, I read Gabriel García Márquez
and Albert Camus and André Malraux, and they influenced me. But the big
thing was, you know, the Fantastic 4 when I was a kid.— DemocracyNow
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Sister Citizen: Shame, Stereotypes, and Black Women in
America
By Melissa V.
Harris-Perry
According to the
author, this society has historically exerted
considerable pressure on black females to fit into one
of a handful of stereotypes, primarily, the Mammy, the
Matriarch or the Jezebel. The selfless
Mammy’s behavior is marked by a slavish devotion to
white folks’ domestic concerns, often at the expense of
those of her own family’s needs. By contrast, the
relatively-hedonistic Jezebel is a sexually-insatiable
temptress. And the Matriarch is generally thought of as
an emasculating figure who denigrates black men, ala the
characters Sapphire and Aunt Esther on the television
shows Amos and Andy and Sanford and Son, respectively.
Professor Perry
points out how the propagation of these harmful myths
have served the mainstream culture well. For instance,
the Mammy suggests that it is almost second nature for
black females to feel a maternal instinct towards
Caucasian babies.
As for the source
of the Jezebel, black women had no control over their
own bodies during slavery given that they were being
auctioned off and bred to maximize profits. Nonetheless,
it was in the interest of plantation owners to propagate
the lie that sisters were sluts inclined to mate
indiscriminately.
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Sex at the Margins
Migration, Labour Markets and the Rescue Industry
By Laura María Agustín
This book explodes several myths: that selling sex is completely different from any other kind of work, that migrants who sell sex are passive victims and that the multitude of people out to save them are without self-interest. Laura Agustín makes a passionate case against these stereotypes, arguing that the label 'trafficked' does not accurately describe migrants' lives and that the 'rescue industry' serves to disempower them. Based on extensive research amongst both migrants who sell sex and social helpers, Sex at the Margins provides a radically different analysis. Frequently, says Agustin, migrants make rational choices to travel and work in the sex industry, and although they are treated like a marginalised group they form part of the dynamic global economy. Both powerful and controversial, this book is essential reading for all those who want to understand the increasingly important relationship between sex markets, migration and the desire for social justice. "Sex at the Margins rips apart distinctions between migrants, service work and sexual labour and reveals the utter complexity of the contemporary sex industry. This book is set to be a trailblazer in the study of sexuality."—Lisa Adkins, University of London |
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The Warmth of Other Suns
The Epic Story of America's Great
Migration
By Isabel Wilkerson
Ida Mae Brandon Gladney, a
sharecropper's wife, left Mississippi
for Milwaukee in 1937, after her cousin
was falsely accused of stealing a white
man's turkeys and was almost beaten to
death. In 1945, George Swanson Starling,
a citrus picker, fled Florida for Harlem
after learning of the grove owners'
plans to give him a "necktie party" (a
lynching). Robert Joseph Pershing Foster
made his trek from Louisiana to
California in 1953, embittered by "the
absurdity that he was doing surgery for
the United States Army and couldn't
operate in his own home town." Anchored
to these three stories is Pulitzer
Prize–winning journalist Wilkerson's
magnificent, extensively researched
study of the "great migration," the
exodus of six million black Southerners
out of the terror of Jim Crow to an
"uncertain existence" in the North and
Midwest. Wilkerson deftly incorporates
sociological and historical studies into
the novelistic narratives of Gladney,
Starling, and Pershing settling in new
lands, building anew, and often finding
that they have not left racism behind.
The drama, poignancy, and romance of a
classic immigrant saga pervade this
book, hold the reader in its grasp, and
resonate long after the reading is done.
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The White Masters of the
World
From
The World and Africa, 1965
By W. E. B. Du Bois
W. E. B. Du Bois’
Arraignment and Indictment of White Civilization
(Fletcher)
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Ancient African Nations
* * * * *
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Negro Digest /
Black World
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The Death of Emmett Till by Bob Dylan
/
The Lonesome Death of Hattie Carroll
/
Only a Pawn in Their Game
Rev. Jesse Lee Peterson Thanks America for
Slavery
* *
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The Journal of Negro History issues at Project Gutenberg
The
Haitian Declaration of Independence 1804
/
January 1, 1804 -- The Founding of
Haiti
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