Hey, Hey The Blues Archives Was All Right to Me!

I do not own the license/copyright to any of the visual material published here. It is used for educational purposes only, and not with the intent to publish, redistribute, and sell solely for personal gain.

Imagine if you are an African American Studies scholar, you have access to B.B. King’s original manuscript for his autobiography, records of blues women from the 1920s (the ones that break when dropped), gospel documentaries, and ever classic Black sermon that has ever been recorded. I did. It was my work study job!

If we listen to the 5:30 nightly news on any of the major national stations and then tune in to the 6:oo p.m. local news, it’s understandable if a feeling of despair begins to grip the imagination. Our local cities are trashy, crime-ridden, and crumbling. Our nation is in a downward spiral with the force of a NASA centrifuge and nobody knows how to stop it. Internationally, America is now seen as the world’s biggest, dumbest jocks who are only good for obliterating life. Where, oh where, is the bottom, one asks?

But, dear reader, sometimes, life can be just wonderful. I know. I know that sounds like a stretch, but I am sincere when I write this. I’m not unloading a ton of malarkey here or playing self-help guru. Honestly, I had a wonderful experience in a veritable paradise on earth with unlimited access to all of the things that pleases my poor little Africana Studies heart!

For at least two years of my life, as an undergraduate, I worked at the Blues Archive at the University of Mississippi (Ole Miss). I worked at night, so mainly, I was alone. In my musty, dingy work environment, I had access to all of the Blues magazines, classical Black sermons, Prince recordings, and Blues autobiographies my heart could stand.

While the job is called, “work study,” I spent most of my time watching documentaries and listening to records. I read books, listened to sermons, and sung along to old spirituals from my childhood. Here’s one of those classic sermons that everybody’s momma had in our neighborhood:

I put the compact disc in and squealed with delight.

It was in the Blues archive where I “discovered” Sweet Honey in the Rock.

I would listen to them for HOURS. I love this group still.

I can say that my work study “job” was much more than a job. In the Blues archive for hours on end, I learned about Black culture from all over the country and in outside of it. I learned that first, African American culture is not a monolithic culture. Everybody everywhere got a little soul, and there is no such thing as “acting Black.” There is no one way to act Black.

Second, my understanding of Black Americans as part of an African Diaspora opened. There is no singular experience of blackness on this globe. The Black experience in Jamaica is just as valid as the one of African Americans. The privileging of the African American experience was simply expedient for the academy as administrators responded to academics during Black Arts Movement for a more democratic college curriculum.

Third, I learned that loving African American culture and its contributions to American culture does not mean one has to hate white people. I cannot stand when some of my more conservative colleagues (and let’s face it, political pundits) quote quite explicitly that to love African American culture is to hate white people and that those of us in African American/Africana Studies teachers nothing but white hatred. I do not feel that I owe these ignorant folk a response. If I taught Native American Studies, would it mean that I hate white folk? Does Women’s Studies mean anyone hates men? The answer is “no.” Perhaps they should take one of these classes in order to learn not to be as arrogant and ignorant as they are.

Fourth, one of the most important things that I learned is that African American culture is not something suis generis. It should not be treated as a side tangent or afterthought in the academy. If we travel back to colonial history, we find that African people are indelibly weaved into the fabric of all things that is America. A good dose of colonial history — not something that has been cycled through myth-making — teaches us that both race and class have always been a tangled pathology in America, and we do not want to admit or deal with that fact. An incident, Bacon’s Rebellion, which was an incident between lower-class white men and upper-class white men, led to widespread, widely-accepted, race-based slavery in America. A court ruling for a man named John Punch, became the precedent for slavery for life in America.

Here is a very good pedagogical tool freely available on the Internet. It shows that slavery happened one incident at a time and WAS NOT the plan when America first started. America was very much Britain Jr. culturally. The presence of Black bodies distinguished it.

Working in the Blues archives was so much more than a job. Coming from my mother’s house, I had a good foundation of Black culture. When I got to the archive, I could see and touch history (with white gloves, of course). In the archives were recipes, pictures, records, court documents, and documentaries. I “discovered” Marlon Riggs, the great documentary-maker who unfortunately, succumbed to AIDS.

Now, I have written enough and you are probably bored, dear reader. But, I can sum up my life’s work….No, Marvin Gaye sums up my life’s work. I know that most people do not feel great about their work study jobs in school, but I am grateful for mine.

I do not own the license/copyright to any of the musical material published here. It is used for educational purposes only, and not with the intent to publish, redistribute, and sell for my personal gain.