African Voices Summer 2016 (Digital) | Page 11

LaTanya Richardson, Denzel Washington and Anika Noni Rose in Lorraine Hansberry’s classic Broadway play A Raisin in the Sun (2014). promise”; and prophesies that the community will “redeem the promise.” (Howard-Pitney 8). Instead of predicting redemption, however, in The Fire Next Time, Baldwin warns what will happen to Black and White America alike if we do not heed the signs of racial apocalypse. His title refers to a Negro spiritual that contrasts the mercy of flood with the punishment of fire, fire that would become literal in urban centers just a few years following the text’s publication: “God gave Noah the rainbow sign. No water but the fire next time.” As incendiary as Baldwin’s work is, it also contains a sophisticated redefinition of love. One of these moments occurs early in The Fire Next Time when he tells his 15-year-old nephew that on the day of his birth, he was there “to be loved. To be loved, baby, hard, at once, and forever, to strengthen you against the loveless world. Remember that: I know how black it looks today, for you. It looked bad that day, too, yes, we were trembling. We have not stopped trembling yet, but if we had not loved each other none of us would have survived.” (Baldwin 7). Here Baldwin affirms the power of love for self, family, and community as a bulwark against a hostile society. In a world where Black lives did not matter, nurturing the promise of the next generation was a courageous act. Just as Baldwin reevaluates the definition and purpose of love, so does he redefine pleasure and its transformative potential. A few pages later, Baldwin critiques White Americans who misunderstand the “sensuality” of Black musical forms such as jazz and the blues. (Baldwin 42). Baldwin asserts: “To be sensual, I think, is to respect and rejoice in the force of life, of life itself, and to be present in all that one does, from the effort of loving to the breaking of bread. It will be a great day for America, incidentally, when we begin to eat bread again, instead of the blasphemous and tasteless foam rubber that we have substituted for it. And I am not being frivolous, now, either. Something very sinister happens to the people of a country when they begin to distrust their own reactions as deeply as they do here and become as joyless as they have become.” (Baldwin 43). Baldwin’s call to embrace the sensual beyond White fantasies of “quivering dusky maidens or priapic black studs” brings to mind Audre Lorde’s definition of the erotic as the life force that is the source of every creative act, “whether it is dancing, building a bookcase, writing a poem, [or] examining an idea.” (Baldwin 43; Lorde african Voices 11