“I see that they put every black man in the movies in a dress at some point in his career.” –Dave Chappelle on “Oprah” (2005)
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That
was comedian Dave Chappelle’s take on the current state of black
comedy, circa four years ago. While he was giving the interview to
discuss his mysterious disappearance after abandoning his hit show on
Comedy Central, that particular statement was given as an indicator
into some of the pressures that black comedians feel when trying to
appeal for laughs from a predominantly white audience. Chappelle’s
sentiment has been echoed many times before and since–usually whenever
someone like Eddie Murphy or Martin Lawrence or, most recently, Tyler
Perry dons a dress and wig for laughs.
While one can’t deny the
history of black male emasculation in Western culture, one must further
examine the accuracy of Chappelle’s statement. Of course, every
black man in movies hasn’t been ‘put’ in a dress at some point. Many
prominent black actors, like Denzel Washington, Laurence Fishburne and
Samuel L. Jackson have never performed in drag, neither has Morgan
Freeman, the late Bernie Mac, Billy Dee Williams, or Louis Gossett Jr.
Redd Foxx? Nope. Steve Harvey? Never. And the list goes on.
In examining the history of
cross-dressing being fodder for comedy, there are almost innumerable
examples of comedians of all races and ethnicities dressing in drag for laughs: Milton Berle, Bob Hope, Jim Carrey, Steve Martin, virtually everyone
who’s ever been a cast member on “Saturday Night Live,” future Oscar®
winners Tom Hanks and Dustin Hoffman, Patrick Swayze, Robin Williams,
John Goodman, Michael J. Fox and more.
The knee-jerk retort is,
“Well, white actors are cast in a variety of roles, so they are less
likely to be viewed stereotypically.” While this may be true to some
degree, one has to acknowledge the fact that, particularly in the last
two decades, black actors are featured in a more varied respect than in
previous generations: from musical iconoclasts (Ray) and determined professionals (The Pursuit of Happyness) to futuristic prophets (The Matrix) and power-mad dictators (The Last King of Scotland.)
Yet no matter how many gun-toting vigilantes, superheroes, 23rd Century
cops, or hard-boiled detectives African American actors play, all it
takes is one Madea or ‘Big Momma’ character to resurrect the resentment
of the shuckin’ an’ jivin’ that so many black performers had to endure
for the better part of the 20th century.
But we must be fair-and we must be honest. This month, as droves of fans flock to Tyler Perry’s Madea Goes to Jail
and message boards and blogs are inundated with irate,
supposedly-conscious folks railing against this supposed affront to
black masculinity, pause for a moment and put things in their proper
prospective. Regardless of how you may feel about ‘Madea’ and her ilk,
you must acknowledge that characters like this are no longer the
definitive portrait of blacks on film. And drag comedy–white, black or
Laotian–is as old as comedy itself. –todd williams
