In M. G. Hardie’s debut release, EveryDay Life, he takes the reader on a daunting rollercoaster ride through the philosophic and moral ghost towns long since abandoned by the old-guard black intelligentsia (for the more profitable profession of public rabble-rousing and stylized television appearances, of course) in order to lay bare the drama of four invisible desperados.
L, C, E, and B are the main players in this (awkwardly) dramatic play about life in urban America. Hardie’s characters are confused, disenchanted, scared, and spiritually adrift in a dissonant sub-culture shotthrough with soul death and perrenial despair, all undermined by economic failure – which paradoxically paralyzes and informs much of any possibilityof a brighter future.
EveryDay Life raises critical questions, presents relevant commentary, and at least attempts to deliberate and wrestle with complex matters. But Hardie is too pessimistic and antagonistic with the current state of black America, and is therefore unable to move beyond the often limiting mentality of ‘hood intellect in order to grapple in a sutained manner the possibility hope. He certainly is conscious of their social predicament, analyzing it from top to bottom, left to right, but seemingly gets lost and stranded in his own sardonic conclusions that the devil is stronger than a man. For him, the problems confronting America are full of scandalous conspiracies, deeply entrenched in systemic racism, black ignorance, and moral unaccountability. The following passage bears this out:
“These mo-fo’s can rescue you in a foreign country in the middle of a war but can’t save people of color in their own city. I realized a long time ago that they just don’t want us. I think I was about five. … We’re already in chains. People say start with the children, and that’s because children can’t vote. We should start with the parents. Teaching them and holding them accountable. Every time our people go out in pajamas, draw -in their eyebrows, or post ass shakin’ videos, the people in power know we aren’t paying attention to them.”
Hardie gets so caught up in observations of the psycho-drama that he never truly moves beyond the store-front preachment to realize the more desperately urgent call for swift action and immediate change. There is examination of the problems, but no solutions to the the problems. This is why we could never compare his play to the more balanced ones of Hannsberry, Miller, or even such contemporaries like the brilliant Tyler Perry because – unlike Hardie, these gifted story-tellers ultimately move beyond the pitiable reality to imagine the possibility of hope: Even in the face of shame, guilt, and humiliation (not to mention the pervasive matter of the overbearing matriarch), still, Walter Younger reclaimed his dignity and moved his family away from the slums of southside Chicago; Tyler Perry never loses sight of religious faith, spiritual healing, and the need for soul redemption; and, even though Willie Loman is suicidal and tragically obsessed with the question of greatness, Miller delivers a pragmatic lesson on social misconceptions and self-knowledge, and offers a profound critique on the fallacies of (unattainable and unrealistic) capitalistic pursuits. Hardie excites us with witty (and humorous) statements regarding the temporal shifts in black music, but refuses to linger on complex matters, ultimately leaving them untreated, unexplored, and unanswered:
“I believe in the reason for rap. I believe it started before most of our ancestors were dragged to America and intensified by the slave’s troubles. Original rappers like Wheatley, Dunbar, and Brooks allowed our concerns to be read and shared. Early on Cab Calloway did scat to music. In the 60s Cool G rap made it popular, youthfu
l. In the 70s, we had money so we danced instead of rioting over our disappearing public spaces. Urban pioneer DJ Kool Herc turned everywhere we went into a party.”
Is this the best treatment of rap music chronology that Hardie could muster? And what has rap, slavery, Cab, Cool G, and the 60s and 70s to with anything? What has having money in the 70s to do with dancing? What about “our disappearing spaces”? Is this a critique of the emergence of the hip hop culture? I don’t know.
In
a time of gang violence, high incarnation rates of black men, and inner-city murder rates, Hardie makes an interesting resolution to the problem at hand:
“They have made the wrong things dependant on each other. Get rid of crime, and you won’t need lawmakers or police. Think about your own answer as to why we have more senseless killing than those uncivilized parts of the world.”
It would be great if Hardie could be more specific on exactly how he defines “uncivilized parts of the world,” especially as an American. But is this really a practical solution to the gun problem? Perhaps it is because they cannot afford guns. America is a capitalist system that exploits anything for profit. Perhaps those in Venezuelan ghettos (for instance) may not have easy access to the guns. So, Third World-like ghettos are certainly no more moral than Americans, but rather they perhaps can not afford to buy the weapons needed to be better criminals. By the way, Somalian guerillas are well armed, got pirates, and are a criminal force to be reckoned with. But I guess it’s still a question of whether or not their killing sprees make sense.
Hardie’s book may go down in history as a bona fide hip hop play (as some have suggested). From corporal punishment to Eugenics, to black music and hip hop, Hardie puts forth an honest and deeply intellectual effort to raise critical issues, and make us think about the world we think we know. But the potential of the book only lies in its revelation of the issues affecting the under-represented – from the critical perspective of someone who has “been there, done that.” But so what. Even the Chinese are aware of black ghetto life….and they love hip hop too. But where is the pot-o-gold at the end of the rainbow? (A tragic tale that doesn’t have a happy ending with redemption, triumph, and perserverance will not make it to the Oprah Book Club.)
With EveryDay Life, we get a birds-eye view into the complex lives or inner-city black men (Ellis Cose’s “envy of the world”), and we get to see “what’s goin’ on” and how they cope. But that’s all they are doing. Coping.
WOW! This review while critical at times is very well put together, really. This is a prime example of what a 21st Century book review should be. But my goal for this work was to get people to think and communicate. I did not offer solutions to the many issues confronting America, simply because there are no solutions, only things people say and do to make themselves feel better. Remember this play is told for lack of a better word from the perspective of dumbasses and the best thing about them is that they are real and honest besides isn't hope all any of us really have. If you think about those other plays some would argue that they are artifical moral commentaries. EveryDay Life different and not prescriptive it concentrates on real people, and real issues that affect everyone. The way I see it if we aren't communicating and understanding each other what is going to change?
Literature has a ‘job’ to do. And if you think that Lorraine Hannsberry’s play was not about real people and real lives then that only means that you hadn’t considered the historical context of ‘Raisin…’ Even Miller’s play is speaking to some of the social/cultural concerns of America at the time, particularly the sense of alienation and disenchantment with the so-called American dream belief that hard work and fair-play guarantees success. That was real back then. And, like Loman, TODAY, people still kill themselves because of unrealistic goals and financial failure. Kerouac and Friedan communicated to the masses and eventually started social conscious movements. Tyler’s plays are popular because he’s dealing with real people and real issues. People see themselves in Perry’s work. I’m sure your goal was to get people to think but thats a given. But, in these stressful times, we need to also be inspired and encouraged. We all KNOW what our situation is – and most ghetto folks got better analyses of their plights and predicaments than a Harvard-trained sociologist. In these desperate times, the people need hope. Beyond the dramatic story of struggle, they need solutions.