Swinging Char

His spirit is smoke ascended to high heaven.
His father, by the cruelest way of pain,Had bidden him to his bosom once again;The awful sin remained still unforgiven.All night a bright and solitary star(Perchance the one that ever guided him,Yet gave him up at last to Fate's wild whim)Hung pitifully o'er the swinging char.Day dawned, and soon the mixed crowds came to viewThe ghastly body swaying in the sun:The women thronged to look, but never a oneShowed sorrow in her eyes of steely blue;And little lads, lynchers that were to be,Danced round the dreadful thing in fiendish glee.

                   

                                              -Claude McKay

This poem, entitled "The Lynching" was written in 1920 by Harlem Renaissance poet, Claude McKay. It depicts the gruesome practice of lynching a black man for public display. This poem represents black death carried out by white rage. The first half of the poem shows McKay's interpretation of death. The poem's subject, the lynched man is shown dying. He has been badly burnt and strung up upon the tree as a sign of hatred. All night he hangs until the town comes to view him as a spectacle in the morning. McKay shows this death as sorrowful, and the fact that the man has no name or identity gives him the potential identity to be any black man. Lynchings happened all over the United States, and the fact that no name or location was given in this poem gives it a sense of ambiguity. It supports the fact that both black death and white rage are not isolated to one city, state, or even country. The second half of this poem shows how the white people of the town react to the lynching. It exposes how white rage starts early, and that many white people are unfazed by black death. The fact that the townspeople show no grief, and in fact show enthusiasm at finding the dead body is disturbing. "Little lads, lynchers that were to be, Danced round the dreadful thing in fiendish glee." This line summarizes McKay's points: that death is undeniably and unquestionably dreadful, and that even when black death is committed in the most atrocious way, white people will lack the empathy that the victim deserves. McKay wrote this poem about black death long before Holloway wrote her book, but their points are quite similar.

What Holloway wants readers to take away from her book is that black death is a unique sector of American death. She wants people to recognize how it is different, but also how it can unite all people. Yes, death looks different for many black people in America, but death can also bring about great change. People eventually start to pay attention to issues when death becomes involved, and while this is not an ideal process, it can lead to great things. Black death is an issue that our country has to look upon seriously, but we also need to look at how death affects our lives long after a person has passed. When we do that, we can learn a lot about ourselves and about each other.