Black Face, Carte Blanche:
The Racism Behind The Boondocks

“I am one those red-blooded, flag-waving white Republicans you’ve heard about,” says one of Cartoon Network’s trademark teaser letters in its Adult Swim time slot. “I think The Boondocks is totally irresponsible viewing… and I love it!”

While Adult Swim likely aired those comments in their usual tongue-in-cheek manner, there is definitely an argument to be made for this show’s appeal to racists— not to suggest that “red-blooded, flag-waving white Republican” is in any way synonymous with “racist.”

Born of creator Aaron McGruder’s controversial 6-year-old comic strip, the animated show is one of this fall’s early successes on the network. Its ratings are proof of the marketing power implicit in the word “controversial”—a promotional buzzword often used in describing the original form’s handling of racial issues through the eyes of the 10-year-old protagonist, Huey Freeman.

The comic strip pulled no punches in its critical analyses of race matters, questioning George Bush’s legitimacy as president in one strip, and eviscerating questionable black leaders Al Sharpton and Jesse Jackson in the next. Naturally, it was pulled from numerous publications with conservative readerships—a move which only boosted its credibility among core followers.

However, some readers have expressed disappointment in the televised version, which seems to have transitioned from unflinchingly honest satire to carefully veiled modern racism. The show creates a class of “good” blacks, often represented solely by young Huey—on track to become the most annoyingly self-righteous animated character since Lisa Simpson— and a bunch of “those people” blacks, led by his gangsta-wannabe brother, Riley.

But don’t take my word for it (at least, not just yet). Let’s take an analytical look at Episode 104, “Granddad’s Fight.”

The episode begins in an urban setting, where two young, black men in Hip-Hop-inspired clothing bump into each other as their paths cross. “Watch where ya walkin’, nigga,” yells the one in a red bandana, drawing a gun.
From this point, series creator McGruder seeks to conclusively explain the origins of a particular brand of violence in contemporary American society. He does so by conducting a series of informal experiments, the first of which is, at this point, already underway.

Main Experiment: 2 Black Subjects
“Watch closely,” instructs Huey, our narrator. “You are about to experience A NIGGA MOMENT,” with the words appearing onscreen for added effect. In the next frame, the savvy viewer is reminded exactly why cartoons have always been extremely effective racist tools since the pre-minstrelsy era: the medium’s creator can contort physical attributes of cartoon characters in ways that would be far more difficult—and less effective—with flesh-and-blood actors.

Here, the bandana-sporting figure and his wifebeater-wearing adversary (we’ll call them “Red” and “Beater”) are shown as modern, Anime-style updates of classic brute stereotypes. As they unload bullet rounds into one another, their bodies assume exaggerated “gangsta” stances. Their large lips frame feral, gritted teeth, and their nostrils flare down at the viewer in creatively menacing low-angle shots. Large white orbs blaze where eyes should be—their tiny, pinprick pupils exposing them as the “talking beasts” Buckner H. Payne warned of in his postbellum publication, “THE NEGRO: What is His Ethnological Status?”

But is McGruder really trying to say that blacks are the only ones capable of such misplaced aggression? He doesn’t let the viewer ponder this for too long before introducing a control experiment involving a white pedestrian.

Control Experiment 1: 1 Black, 1 White
When challenged in a similar manner by Beater, the white character begins to respond, but thinks better of it:

“Wait a minute. I’m white!”

And with that, he walks away, laughing as Beater yells in the distance. Beater is hurt by the white man's unwillingness to stoop to violence—the only conflict-resolution system accessible to him. Thus, he insists the confrontation continue, for it is “a perfectly good moment to throw your life away.”

Here, McGruder brushes aside any suggestion that a white man could be entangled in these “nigga moments.” I’m certain that Glenn Moore, the 20-year-old black man whose skull was fractured by a group of white Howard Beach, NY, residents last summer, would disagree. But Huey goes further to reveal that whites avoid confrontations with blacks in recognition of their own superiority, and never due to a fear of the menacing blacks portrayed (albeit accurately, in Beater’s case) by the media.

Control Experiment 2: Whites in Their Own Habitat
Huey goes on to debunk the foolish myth that one can escape nigga moments by simply moving away from them, explaining that “niggas always have a new trick around the corner.” Even with the white subjects now safely sequestered among their own kind, they are still in danger, for into every white life a nigga must fall.

And in today’s episode, his name is Colonel H. Stinkmeaner. He is first seen driving recklessly through an idyllic “sub-urb” (a scaled-down, suburban recreation of an urban metropolis), causing pandemonium as only a blind driver in a residential area can.

Conclusion:
“Every nigga moment begins with the nigga,” says Huey. “Without that key element, all you’re left with is peace and quiet.”

Stinkmeaner , as his name suggests, is a completely flat character defined only by “his love of hate.” A blind geriatric, he uses his disability as leverage with which to antagonize a world that dares not fight back (as evidenced by his stubborn insistence on driving despite total vision impairment). It would seem he is being used as a symbolic representation of African-Americans, who, as some conservatives believe, use their minority status in a similar manner.

Having terrorized his fill of whites for the day, his focus turns to Huey’s grandfather, whose car he repeatedly and deliberately rear-ends for parking in “his” disabled parking space. By this time, it is clear that Stinkmeaner is a target the audience is welcomed to loathe at first glance. His flint-gray hair and eyebrows sprout wildly from his bald head, his thick lips mangled in a sour, toothless grimace as he spews copious doses of insults and saliva. As he berates Granddad for parking in his space, his every statement is punctuated with the word, “nigga.” But in order to differentiate this from our hero’s own frequent use of the word, his inflections are given a more distasteful, “ghetto” flavor—pronouncing the word as “niukka.”

Granddad’s day is definitely taking a turn for the worse after a very auspicious start; earlier, he was so overjoyed at his purchase of a new pair of Nikes that he regaled his grandsons with the “New Shoe Song” and its accompanying dance.

Unfortunately, Stinkmeaner’s nose—thanks to a heightened sense of smell (or possibly his distinct “niggaism”)—is able to detect Granddad’s new pair of shoes, and proceeds to stomp on them. If mainstream media have taught you nothing else, they have definitely warned you never to mess with a black man’s shoes. According to Huey’s narration, these “hundred-and-fifty-dollar landmines” are catalysts in six out of every ten nigga moments, and it’s no surprise that Granddad loses his cool and engages Stinkmeaner in a fight. He loses.

As Granddad goes about scheduling a rematch, Riley is left home watching a Hip-Hop award show, where Eat Dirt—a wild-eyed rapper—is honored with the Artist of the Year award. He is the very image of drug addiction. His rotting teeth hang tenuously from diseased gums, his unkempt afro is replete with litter and other debris, and his clothes cover very little of his haggard, tattooed physique. As he approaches the stage to accept his award, he is blindsided by a chair and the entire auditorium erupts in a bloody melee.

This is scene is so venomous in its depiction of Hip-Hop culture that it is hard to imagine a white-supremacist satirist doing more damage, and one has to wonder what McGruder’s exact intentions are with this episode.

Overcoming his initial disappointment at Granddad’s insistence on a rematch, Huey assumes the role of his Sensei, training him for the big fight. If Huey’s superiority over the other black characters isn’t already clear, McGruder devotes the rest of the episode to making that point obvious. As Granddad defers to Huey, taking his every word as gospel, Riley begins promoting the fight—“The Slapfest in Woodcrest”—around the community. Ever the black hustler, he sells tickets, takes advance orders for the DVD release, and naturally secures for himself “a little action on the side.”

To further elevate Huey, Uncle Ruckus, a self-hating black menial worker is introduced. Among his many disparaging comments about blacks, he comments that they “don’t possess the strength of character or mental quickness to be a great fighter.” In a humorous reversal of the iconic dialogue from Eddie Murphy’s “Coming To America,” he goes on to list a host of great white fighters, preemptively dismissing any argument for black fighters that involves “pull(ing) Muhammad Ali out ya’ ass.”

As the audience is invited to laugh at Ruckus’ character, many will probably miss the parallels between his and McGruder’s voices. Having spent a lifetime in the service of whites, Ruckus has come to hate his people and curse his blackness (which he refers to as his “ailment”). In hopes of one day gaining acceptance from whites, he devotes much of his time to exaggerating real and imagined follies plaguing the black community, often to great comical effect. McGruder (or at least, the psyche of McGruder that is reflected in this episode) is cut from the same cloth.

As a black entertainer, McGruder seems to be taking the Cosby route—looking to elevate a white populace’s estimation of him by enumerating the many ways in which he is superior to a “those other blacks.” Creating in Huey a condescending superego of the black community (with whom he shares an uncanny physical resemblance), McGruder makes the same mistake as many blacks in America today. In their attempts to prove their worth to their white contemporaries, they establish themselves as an “exception to the rule,” rather than provoke the mainstream to revise the rule or abandon it altogether.

If successful in parlaying this SuperNegro stance into commercial success, the performer only further widens the gulf between the “good ones” and the “others”—thus strengthening and validating modern racism.

While promoting the first season of his animated show, McGruder has had to walk a thin line: telling white conservatives much of what they want to hear, while maintaining the “angry, political black male” persona that has gotten him this far. In the interviews leading up to the show’s premiere, McGruder was known to reel off a long list of blacks, he felt, had let down the race.

While critique of that nature may be valid, it is interesting to note that he seems to have abandoned the other elements that defined the comic strip. Gone is the Huey that called an anonymous FBI tipline to alert them of Americans backing terrorist cells—including on his list Ronald Reagan and the CIA. Such government criticisms are long gone, and there is nary a mention of racism in America.

When discussing the pressure he faced to axe a segment featuring the abduction of Oprah Winfrey by a gang of thugs, he somehow manages to place the blame on her. Tapping into an existing sentiment that Winfrey may have become too powerful, he ominously states that “I think we should all have a healthy fear of Oprah Winfrey.”

Promotion tactics like these are becoming de rigueur for black entertainers trying to appeal to the largest possible audience. Rapper, 50 Cent recently publicly absolved government agencies of the mass carnage that arose in the wake of Hurricane Katrina, stating that race had nothing to do with it, and it was merely “an act of God.”

But by avoiding racial issues or restricting all criticism to the black community, artists like McGruder often become tools of modern racists, who are able to attack a racial group without getting their hands dirty. Comments from such entertainers give extra weight to modern racist rhetoric by proving that “even their own people” hold these beliefs.

However, in true Modern-America style, few are ready to fight that battle. To many, this new McGruder is either a great satirist or an illustration of the degradation of Black America. However, neither party is willing to use the incendiary R-word on a black man, adopting the simplistic logic that “if a black man says it, it has to be OK.” An example would be humorist Zepp Jamieson.

“Is Boondocks racist against blacks?” he asks on his website. “Go look at a picture of Aaron McGruder. Get back to me.”

© 2006 Aderemi Adetiba.