“Although physically shackled and inflicted with every cruel, inhuman device that their masters could conceive in an effort to eradicate tribal languages, customs, and beliefs, the first enslaved blacks did not come to these shores empty-handed… Strangers in a new land, they brought an inner strength that could not be broken; they revealed a depth of spirituality that has seldom been matched for its simplicity of expression, its richness in speech and song, its vibrant imagery… And fusing their diverse African cultures with those already existing in the Western Hemisphere, they gradually encircled their unsuspecting captors with their creative artistry, venting their emotions in spontaneous oral and musical expressions drawn from the depths of their beings.”- Spencer G. Shaw, 1977.
Foreword to “The Days When the Animals Talked” by William J. Faulkner
It’s strange at first to consider how the early American slaves and their descendants came to enthusiastically embrace Christianity, the foreign religion of their masters. But when one considers the central message of Christian teaching, of the righteous overcoming hardship on earth and inheriting paradise in the next kingdom, the appeal becomes much clearer. There were also fantastic stories that slaves were able to re-imagine and apply to their own situation. They saw themselves in the book of Exodus in which the Hebrews are enslaved but eventually delivered to freedom. By viewing themselves as parallel to the heroes of an important story in master’s “good book”, slaves were using imaginative means to provide hope in order to sustain their spirits.
During the harsh set of centuries that close out the Old Testament, the Hebrews themselves also used the power of language to redefine an angst-filled reality. As they found themselves exiled or dominated by a series of hostile empires the Hebrews changed the mode of their literature from History to Prophecy. The crisis of the old mode of thought was “how can our god be the most powerful while we suffer at the hands of Babylon?” The new outlook that took shape viewed Babylon’s dominance as temporary while the word of God, urgent poetry spoken by the prophets that both condemned the oppressor and promised its fall, was more important than any historical situation.
By the time the Book of Daniel is finished (around 170 B.C.) the old Prophecy is giving way to a newer form of interpretation known as Apocalypse (from the Greek word for “revelation”). Apocalyptic writings introduce the ideas of that which comes after all History and the dualism we see manifested in early Christian writing. But maybe most importantly from a literary perspective, to read apocalyptically was to reinterpret, redefine and rewrite the texts that have come before you. Ideas, images and words from the Old Testament become reference points and building blocks – fragments from the rubble of history. A codified language emerges in which (now long-gone) villains of Babylon become signifiers for Rome (Book of Daniel) or for Satan (Revelations). We might see the symbol of “the lamb” (which figures strongly in Exodus in the form of a sacrificial Passover offering) reimagined as Jesus sacrificed on Cavalry and then further reworked into a trippy future vision as the very cosmic hero of Revelations.
Bolder interpretations and a coded language emerged in the rituals of American slaves as well. Just as Roman overlords may not have realized that references to Babylon were invoked to symbolize their tyrannical misdeeds, the Georgia slave-master may not have known that his abuse of authority was represented by the Pharaoh of Exodus. A famously clever use of codifying was the use of spirituals in detailing secret meetings or escape paths for runaway slaves. In this way, “wade in the water” became more than a religious metaphor and instead a literal instruction for survival.
Beyond the coping mechanisms that faith and community provide, getting religion was in its own way an everyday source of victory for the slaves. In absorbing the message of the gospels not only would they have found comfort in the promise of salvation and deliverance, but in a way it may have been a strange source of satisfaction to know that the religion of your owners condemned the wicked, the hypocritical, the rich. In this sphere it would have been natural for slaves to privately assume equality and probably even a religious superiority over the white Christians they toiled for because the slaves were getting a message that whites were ignoring. The same message they found in the Book was at the core of the animistic religions dominant in Africa: a love for humanity, a belief in justice and a supreme power whose will manifests on earth.
Slaves integrated the old traditions from Africa with their new religion and in doing so shaped the course of both American worship and American music. This was, after all, a people destined to invent the remix. With ring shouts and stomps, Protestant hymns were enlivened and mutated into a new form of religious music, one liberating in its expressions of both sorrow and jubilation.
Eventually blues music and therefore all 20th century black American music takes form as an extension of, but especially a reaction to, spirituals. In fact, long before Frederick Douglass or Harriet Beecher Stowe, the foundations of African American literature were already developing in two non-written forms. One is the spiritual and the other, its seminal importance hailed by luminaries like Ralph Ellison and Zora Neale Hurston and sadly almost-forgotten today, is the Brer Rabbit stories.
Part of the traditional African view on death is that when people die their spirits continue to exist as long as they are remembered by the living. So ancestors linger around and may even be reborn as long as their descendants keep their memories alive. With this belief in mind the slaves made a very interesting transformation, creating songs where biblical heroes like Daniel, Joshua and Moses were spoken of as if they were recently departed kinfolk. Slaves prayed and sang and shouted especially for the spirit of Moses to come back from the essence and be reborn into a new child.
Meanwhile, more secular-minded storytellers had already birthed a new child. Only he wasn’t completely new. He had the spirit of old African tricksters like Spider (Anansi), Turtle and, of course, Hare within him. Those recently departed kinfolk from the old world had now returned from the essence and were reincarnated in the form of a new world rabbit.