Nonetheless from One thing Good, 1898. Courtesy of the Hugh M. Hefner Transferring Picture Archive on the USC College of Cinematic Arts.
1.
It’s the silent abandon with which they kiss, as if they’re conscious of somebody striding towards them, this somebody’s finger wagging, telling them, “No, no, not right here, cease that now, or I’ll be compelled to separate you, you profligate negroes.” However earlier than this imagined censor can attain them, they pull one another shut and kiss once more, their mouths disappearing into one another, their mouths taking the form of their longing. They contact one another as if they’ve simply been launched from one thing, as if their license to the touch is brief, stolen, or solid. In One thing Good, which options the primary identified on-screen kiss by a Black couple, filmed in 1898, it seems as if the 2 actors, a peach pit–toned Black man sporting a bow tie and jacket and a peach pores and skin–toned Black lady sporting a ruffled collared gown belted on the waist, are touching one another after an extended interval of denial, as if they’ve forgotten what the opposite’s mouth and fingers and neck really feel like and at the moment are voraciously reacquainting themselves with one another. The pit of the peach swaddled by its flesh, turning into complete there on the limb of the day. Voraciously looking for itself, making itself occur—be. No, not fairly voraciously, however with out warning or take care of who’s watching, although they’re each conscious, and we, too, are conscious that somebody is watching their efficiency.
They do no matter they like, their arms swinging backwards and forwards between forays of kissing, as in the event that they have been going to a carnival down by the railroad tracks or have all of the sudden come out of a clearing, the person having drunk water from a stream, the sky all in it, and when he seemed up, there she was, this peach-skinned lady. The person’s mouth strikes as if he have been remembering the style of water, and the girl strikes about him as water and as what he couldn’t predict, which is the sky, and the shore that makes the water attainable. In lower than twenty seconds, they transfer collectively as earth strikes with water, unpredictably, their kissing assembly and coming aside and not using a preordained or introduced rhythm. Earth and water. Peach swelling into its flesh and pit on the limb of the day.
2.
This was love unjailed, unfastened like corn silk, unfastened and free and scattered. This kiss, this one thing good couldn’t be accounted for, measured, borrowed towards, traded for, offered quick, chained, marched from port to pesthouse, coffled, rented out, quartered, sliced, enclosed, leveraged, loaned out, compounded, purchased, lowered, spoiled, shuttered, stunted, remanded to the margins, exploited, extracted from, “mortgaged, gained, stolen, or seized,” mined, or dynamited into oblivion. This kiss, this one thing good, couldn’t be killed, punished, burned, Jim Crowed, couped, circumvented, compelled to take a seat within the balcony, hung from a phone pole, hung from a bridge as a result of it whistled at a White lady, hung from a tree in the course of a city sq. for demanding wages earned for working in some White man’s subject. This kiss was with out custom, and due to this fact inaugurates custom. Pleasure that was as soon as remanded to the darkish of cabins and cornfields, to forest flooring and swamps, is now lit within the middle of a film digicam’s body. Ecstasy with out interruption or intervention. Freedom with out the harness of propriety. Pleasure not but yoked to spectacle.
Someway, this kiss escaped the eye-bucking and over-exaggeration of minstrelsy, escaped the potential for it to grow to be one more manifestation of the White creativeness circumscribing and speculating about Black life, escaped the pessimism and destruction of race in America on the precipice of the 20 th century. This kiss was love within the Nadir, within the Darkish Ages of Black Freedom. The yr of One thing Good, the yr of this kiss, 1898, was additionally the yr of the Wilmington bloodbath. In North Carolina’s largest metropolis on the time, a metropolis the place Black folks made up the vast majority of the inhabitants, a mob of about two thousand White supremacists not solely burned their method by the Black a part of city, destroying the places of work of a Black-owned newspaper and killing greater than 300 folks, but in addition overthrew the native Fusionist biracial authorities, deposing each White and Black elected officers in the one profitable coup within the historical past of the US. This mob put in public officers who would inaugurate the brutal regime of exclusion that we’d come to know as Jim Crow. The phenomena of White mobs burning and lynching their method by Black enclaves occurred all around the South throughout the Black Nadir. In the midst of such horrors, in a film studio in Chicago, two Black actors, Saint Suttle and Gertie Brown, kissed, and it was recorded on celluloid.
Their silent kissing provides a symbolic counterbalance to the loud terror of the mob. And never simply to the mobs of post-Reconstruction America but in addition to the paterollers and slave masters and senators who upheld slavery from the nation’s founding. Suttle and Brown kiss in the course of ongoing disaster, in the course of our American eyes. They embrace a transparency that’s disarming in its vibrancy and readability. It feels—no, it is revolutionary in its unabashed intimacy, an intimacy to be worn and borne publicly, an intimacy that appears to burst forth from its hiding place. Throughout slavery, intimacy was fraught as a result of slavery erected not solely a barrier between the self and one other but in addition inside oneself. What’s intimacy when it and the emotions that come from it may be claimed by one other; when one other, somebody who calls himself grasp, can declare the physique that feeling runs by?
In One thing Good, it’s as if Suttle and Brown refuse the obstacles and partitions of slavery, refuse the surveillance and apartheid of post-Reconstruction America, as in the event that they have been the grandchildren reared on their mother and father’ and grandparents’ tales of getting to eke out moments of delight throughout the spectacle and banality of slavery, tales of sprigs of lavender and mint positioned in a doorway or in a deal with of an iron to sweeten the sweat and labor of cleansing and cooking and tending and mending in a White lady’s kitchen, tales of going to our bodies of water to hush the sound of research and assembly a lover one was forbidden to satisfy; it’s as if Suttle and Brown blended in these tales with their very own want and kissed and kissed and kissed. Free, free, and scattered.
3.
Why is their kissing so loud? I hear it, hear them, regardless of the kiss occurring within the black-and-white silence of the movie. Possibly this inexplicable and unlocated loudness is the “one thing” of the title. “One thing” a couple of kiss. “One thing” about the best way it opens a person’s face right into a vivid noise. After every kiss, Suttle pulls again from Brown and his face bursts into an explosion of satisfaction and ecstasy. You possibly can nearly hear him say, “Ahhh, now that’s it—that’s it.” His face in its ecstatic glee, the sound of it, jogs my memory of the darkish brown faces and voices of older males whom I’ve cherished in my life—typically very tough males who died very tough deaths and lived tough lives earlier than these tough deaths. One, for example, was dragged down a street when his pant leg was caught within the door of a automotive, his physique ultimately thrown throughout a subject, his physique coming to relaxation solely when a fence put up impaled his head. The scar of it, the put up’s impaling, he carried with him out and in of the barbershop he labored in, carried it with him when leaning again towards one of many partitions within the barbershop, a curtain of smoke falling about him as he puffed and grinned right into a Newport. He carried the scar with him to his loss of life, which occurred lower than ten years after the incident. The scar, his cratered and forever-dented head, all as a result of a lady noticed her husband coming down the street and sped off earlier than this man may exit the automotive correctly. Regardless of these difficulties, I’ve glimpsed moments of this kind of ecstasy, the kind of satisfaction that creases Suttle’s face, this “one thing good” within the faces of those tough males, these males thrown down by each life and unwise choices, thrown down upon the street and dragged to their deaths. I’ve heard this pleasure, this vivid noise of their faces regardless of their tough lives, typically as a result of somebody or one thing stunning crossed their paths or as a result of a trumpet’s plaintive wail made its method out of a radio speaker and touched one thing deep down in them, and also you hear them shout, “You should be extra cautious.”
“You should be extra cautious,” my grandfather would shout and shake his head after I made him snicker, delighting him whereas standing on the shore of some creek or river within the early morning, a fishing pole in my hand, the leaves overhead scattering their shadows on the floor of the water. My grandfather, too, was a tough man who died a tough loss of life—a coronary heart assault whereas within the hospital being handled for emphysema. The person gasping for breath, his coronary heart, unable to take the stress of his laboring, gave out. The start of his life—orphaned, having to steal with a view to feed himself—as tough as his finish. But the person cherished to chop up and snicker, his skinny brown face usually turning into nothing however a big grin and cheeks.
Within the bursts of pleasure that flood Suttle’s face, I hear a shout, I hear my grandfather’s “You should be extra cautious,” an announcement of a surplus of satisfaction—a “one thing good” that can’t be managed, can’t be measured. It’s an outburst that lacks self-consciousness. Not one sew of embarrassment wrinkles Suttle’s forehead or scatters throughout his face. There’s no fear of what we, the viewers, would possibly assume. There’s solely the girl in entrance of him. Though he’s an actor and due to this fact laboring, there’s nothing in his face that means fatigue or exhaustion, the laboriousness of labor. Nothing feels contrived or says “I can’t wait till that is over.” There, in Suttle’s face, is a territory of risk. His face conveys the enjoyment of asking to be in pleasure and loved. May you think about—being directed to be in a state of delight not for others however for oneself? It seems as if Suttle directs himself towards pleasure, finds one thing past the route to kiss, finds one thing good.
4.
Gertie Brown finds one thing so good that she will be able to do nothing however shake her head at it, shake her head on the man on the opposite facet of her who dips his head down and kisses her. Within the writing, I typed “sips” as an alternative of “dips.” Possibly that’s what Brown is shaking her head at—that she turns into what’s on the opposite facet of his thirst. And that he’s on the opposite facet of her—her thirst, her pleasure, her taking part in with pleasure in entrance of this new expertise known as a film digicam. I need to keep together with her shaking her head for a second. Possibly her bashfully shaking her head “no, no” is once more one other manifestation of a surplus of satisfaction and of the irony of being all in it, being in the course of one thing that overwhelms you with its goodness. So overwhelmed, the truth is, that she should flip her head away from his, as if in eradicating him from her sight she staunches the emotions that convulse and breach the banks inside her.
Turning her head away from Suttle, Brown jogs my memory of my grandmother refusing to take a look at my grandfather at his funeral. Sure, this the orphaned grandfather of the tough life, the grandfather who left my grandmother in her late thirties for one more lady, who was simply two cities, a cornfield, and cow pasture over. My grandmother turned her head like Brown when she walked as much as the casket to take a look at my grandfather one final time earlier than the eulogy. I keep in mind it nicely. Somebody prodded her to go take a look at my grandfather as a result of she had refused to take action all through the service. Not even throughout the viewing of the physique earlier than the service did she forged her gaze towards my grandfather laying in a tan go well with within the casket, a tan go well with with a chocolate stain on the lapel. My grandmother sat, turned away from him within the small, heat chapel of the funeral parlor, the polished wooden panels gleaming on that overcast afternoon. My grandmother saved her physique tilted on the seat as if she have been attempting to overhear one thing my grandfather would possibly say however with out him, her ear forged over her shoulder. It appeared as if she anticipated to listen to an apology or acknowledgment of the life that they had shared since she was a teen. Lastly, when none got here, as a result of the useless can’t supply in loss of life what they might not supply in life, somebody cajoled her, nudging her, then pulling her gently up by the elbow, escorting her to the sting of the casket to witness what loss of life and the mortician had finished to my grandfather. It might need been my mom, her daughter, who escorted her to the sting of the casket and prodded her to look, to look down at her former husband. The truth is, I feel it was my mom who took my grandmother by the elbow and stood together with her till she may now not take a look at him.
My mom was additionally my first instance of loving, abiding, and being with problem, which I’ve but to grasp. How may she love this man who left her mom in a home with one apple tree within the yard, a falling-down shed, and bats within the basement? Maybe my mom’s love for her father was as a result of, regardless of the breakup between him and her mom, he by no means stopped loving and caring for her and her mom. When a bat that had taken up residence in a darkish nook of the basement determined to fly about the home, sending us all to cover within the tv room, it was my grandfather who came to visit with a web, trapped the bat, and introduced his size-seven brogans down on its head (his phrases, not mine). And it was my grandfather, along with his eighth-grade understanding of arithmetic, who came to visit and constructed a brand new shed from scratch, albeit along with his personal sense of measurements, which meant that he needed to rehang the door a number of occasions as a result of he didn’t construct the shed in keeping with the specs that got here with it. It was additionally my grandfather who would typically watch me and my sister when my mom or grandmother needed to work extra time.
However that is about my grandmother, her strolling as much as the casket, peering over the facet of it, and when she was positive it was my grandfather, she turned from him, shaking her head as if to say, “Sure, that’s him, and he’s useless.” It was the identical kind of headshake that Gertie Brown provides us and Saint Suttle—surplus, being in the course of one thing and being in disbelief, which is a type of perception. My grandmother’s headshake of “sure” additionally bore a little bit of “no,” as in “No, I can’t consider it ended this fashion.” I can’t ensure, however I consider I heard her say as a lot—that she couldn’t think about my grandfather dying like he had—fearful, choking, then a coronary heart assault. Typically, I see my grandmother standing on the plush burgundy carpet within the funeral parlor, wanting down at my grandfather. I maintain her the place she had refused to remain, her head shaking at this love that was now useless in a casket sporting her grandson’s go well with that now not match him, a stain on the lapel.
5.
We’re suspicious of magnificence due to its shifting, opaque, and sometimes diffuse definition. Relying upon who holds or manipulates magnificence, utters one thing about it, there tends to be in that utterance, in that holding or manipulating, energy—a wresting and hoarding of it. Magnificence turns into the climate—the solar and the rain—by which all of the folks beneath it should ask or pray for mercy, for grace, for a sort visitation, for it to not bruise their heads with an excessive amount of warmth or flood their fields or homes with an excessive amount of water. To be discovered exterior magnificence or with out magnificence is usually to be discovered sitting within the seat of the scornful—unfortunate, condemned, graceless, and unfavored. Magnificence turns into tied to success, goodness, fact, divinity, and ethical rectitude. A bean to be counted, to be measured and weighed towards, magnificence is a coupon and so can grow to be a weapon, a method of exploitation, a fungible commodity, a gimmick. And, within the transaction, those that possess and manipulate magnificence maintain and wield an influence they need to have by no means been given or taken. We’re proper to be suspicious of magnificence. So after I say One thing Good is gorgeous, I’m conscious that I’m wading into this fraught territory of exclusion, energy, and marginalization. However dammit, their kissing, their frolicking in and with one another contained in the body of that movie is gorgeous as a result of it lacks what exclusion, energy, and marginalization don’t—domination. When Suttle pulls Brown towards him or Brown turns her face away from Suttle, nothing about their pulling or tugging on one another is a couple of battle for energy. They revel within the pulling, within the tugging—being drawn to one another. They maintain fingers and swing their arms backwards and forwards as if they’re cradling and nurturing magnificence between them—the sweetness born there within the second of them coming collectively.
There’s additionally one thing else there, one thing I can’t title, however I do know it’s taking part in me calling them, calling this movie, stunning. One thing ineffable and concurrently pleasant. It’s really greater than delight, greater than pleasure, greater than justice and permission. Possibly it’s freedom. It’s as if on this cinematic second between Brown and Suttle we’ve been launched from one thing, as if we’ve closed our eyes and now can see what we couldn’t see earlier than, really feel what we couldn’t really feel earlier than. Possibly it’s magnificence. Possibly that’s what magnificence really is—sensing one thing that’s past sight however that requires each a corroboration and subversion of what we expect we all know of seeing, feeling. Possibly it’s transferring past or beneath noise. Possibly that one thing is silence—and that silence makes a factor—makes a life—stunning. Magnificence not in noise however in what’s with out. Magnificence as that which takes away, and within the taking-away makes life extra ample. Possibly it’s that—sound with out sound. Eyes closed and seeing. Possibly what Brown and Suttle supply for twenty seconds is paradise however with out borders, dread, exclusions, a nemesis, or a have to maintain out the opposite. Paradise and not using a gimmick or an angel at its gates with a flaming sword. Possibly they provide us an invite to our personal magnificence, an invite to really feel with out the earlier harnesses and gates thrown up in entrance of us. And it’s all finished silently. Silently. Not as a result of their love is with out sound however as a result of the absence of sound provides us extra risk, makes manifest what we couldn’t really feel earlier than.
From Darkish Days: Fugitive Essays, forthcoming from Graywolf Press this August.
Roger Reeves is the writer of two collections of poetry, King Me and Greatest Barbarian, which gained the Griffin Worldwide Poetry Prize and the Kingsley Tufts Award and was a finalist for the Nationwide E-book Award. Reeves teaches on the College of Texas at Austin.
