Responsibility
Social workers take the full brunt of outrage and anger at what the narrator perceived as supremely stupid decision-making within black society. An iconic example is when Benjie is given the responsibility of buying a suit at the urging of a social worker to his mother and her boyfriend who are not exactly eager to comply. The imagery describing the results of this experiment reveal everything:
“Dig, he came home yesterday wearin the new outfit, with his old clothes wrapped in a box. I cracked up! Sweets cussed him, but I laughed till tears rolled down my cheeks. He had bought a orange suit with brown velvet lapels. Look like he was dressed in rotten orange peelins. Blew fifty-seven fifty on that cheap-Charlie suit. The cloth wrinklin and bucklin at the knee”
Today’s Sermon: Killing without Guns
A neighborhood street preacher is sermonizing all who’ll listen on the way white racism works hand-in-hand with black street pushers peddling their dope. It is the sermon of the enlightened that strays far from the myths of scripture. Could could why nobody pays much attention. The imagery painted calls for more than senseless hope and meaningless prayers, but real action:
“Teach him to kill hisself! Teach him to latch a monkey on baby's back fore baby draws breath. Brothers, your honor got to be more than somethin you call a judge! Look at the gray-haired sisters fraid to walk home, scared the strong young men gonna jump em, knock em in the head, snatch pocketbooks, and cut throats. Look up at the sky; whitey has walked out on space while our noses pointin down, on the nod!”
What Good Is God?
For some, of course, religion is good enough. It is the answer to every pressing problem: wait long enough and earn your reward for suffering. It’s a lot to gamble all you don’t have on, but it seems to work for some:
“there is no heat in the radiator of this top-floor walkup, and when my onliest daughter is hummin and sighin past me like a express train passin a freight, when the man she's livin with, in sin, and callin her husband, is drinkin whiskey in the presence of the Crucifixion picture on the livin-room wall, when my grandson is stealin from me to buy dope, when they leadin me, gainst my will, to go make paper flowers at the old folks' club, when others pickin my clothes out for me and I'm not likin what they buy, when won't nobody take me to church, when all the nice people I know are dead and gone, when bad boys rob me in the street and knock me down, when all these things come to pass—as predicted in the Scripture; bless the Lord!”
The Poverty Principal
Benjie’s school principal gets his fair shot at narration and offers a lecture on poverty. Surprisingly, it turns out to be one of the sensible and insightful moments in a narrative overflowing with some mighty fine displays of utterly impractical thinking. The principal may not necessarily qualify as a hero, but the principal certainly isn’t no hoagie, either.
“We think of poverty as a condition simply meaning a lack of funds, no money, but when one sees fifth, sixth, and seventh generation poor, it is clear that poverty is as complicated as high finance. One gradually learns be- grudgingly to respect the poverty-stricken: They have endurance; they push their vitamin-starved bodies on and on from one day to another; they continue to stand up under humiliation and abuse. Some buy ridiculous, high- priced, impractical clothing ... on the installment plan, hoping to hide poverty behind fake prosperity.”
