Baldwin: Relevant Then and Now

By Andrea Williams


In his book “The Fire Next Time,” James Baldwin touches on several universal yet hot-button subjects—education, race, religion, police brutality, poverty—in crafting his narrative of the black community, a narrative that sadly remains entrenched in some parts of our society.   

For example, Baldwin’s gloomy perspective on education still rings true today, especially in a lot of economically depressed communities. He asks the reader to ponder this question: Just how useful is education? Of his childhood, Baldwin writes, “ … I no longer had any illusions about what an education could do for me; I had already encountered too many college-graduate handymen (18).” 

Education is often looked at one of two ways: It can remedy a lot of issues within the black community; or it is an unrealistic and unattainable goal for those who are struggling to make it day to day, and, as such, it is a bogus waste of time.

For some, education has been a saving grace, lifting entire generations of family members out of poverty. Shamefully, there are still pockets of the black community where education is mocked, where being smart will get you teased, and where carrying home schoolbooks will get you bullied.

Baldwin is also not shy about sharing his views on the economics of the black community. Many of the economic strides made by blacks were shaken or derailed by the 2008 economic crisis, a financial mess that impacted most Americans, but especially minorities who often didn’t have a lot of economic leeway or privilege to withstand economic hiccups and extended periods of joblessness.

This brings to mind another way in which Baldwin’s “Avenue” compares with today’s avenue—there’s a sense of hopelessness for many members of the economically ostracized community, both now and then. In speaking of the underemployed in “The Fire Next Time,” Baldwin notes,  “Presently, one found them in twos and threes and fours, in a hallway, sharing a jug of wine or a bottle of whiskey, talking, cursing, fighting, sometimes weeping (18).”

This notion isn’t so far-fetched. Drive your car through certain neighborhoods in the middle of the workday, and you’re bound to see groups of grown, capable men hanging on street corners (with and without the whiskey and the weeping).

Baldwin’s racial commentary tends to focus primarily on blacks and whites, which is understandably relevant for his time. For me, however, “race” has shifted—

broadened, really—to encompass blacks, whites, and a plethora of other races, as well as recent immigrants to this country, interracial unions and the children they produce, and even different segments of the black community (“old school” blacks, folks from the Caribbean, Dominicans, recent African immigrants, etc.)

I believe most folks would agree that in our relationships with one another, we seek fairness and impartiality from different races. I also believe there’s been enough progress that we are legitimately disappointed when unfair treatment permeates our society.

And in these unfortunate instances, Baldwin candidly offers this note of advice that some may find relevant today, “Most Negroes cannot risk assuming that the humanity of white people is more real to them than their color (67).”

If we forget our color, he posits, the white man will be sure to remind us.