Black Mamas/Madams, Sexual Oppression and the Truly Determined

Today, in recognition of Black History Month, I celebrate my Aunt, Momma Dot. Momma Dot was a business owner, a Madame, and an active church member. Her full name was Dothulia Groce Gaddis. She was the de facto Matriarch of our family, my mother's eldest sister. She was the first to leave Jackson, Mississippi, in the mid 1920s' and venture North. She jokes about having to decide whether to ride in the white or the colored section of the train. Never ashamed of who she was, she decided to ride in the colored sections.

Momma Dot was a character. She operated the 38 Club in the strip between "Goose Hill" and East St. Louis. This No-man's land was really just a strip of clubs and bars, aiming to get the attention of the men and their money as they left the "Stock Yards" on their way home.

The 38 Club got its name because that was what Momma Dot always carried (a 38 snub-nose revolver). Why? Well, it was a really rough place, and this was just the first level. On the second level, there was a Piano and rooms for the ladies of the evening. Yes, Momma Dot ran a brothel. And my first babysitters, as I recall, were ladies of the evening. Oh, yeah...some of my colorful ways do come from my early childhood experiences.

An evening at the 38 Club

Rodney D. Coates*

I know, I have a really strange family, something of everything –preacher, teacher, cops, thugs, dealers, and pimps –and then there was Momma Dot. Daughter of a preacher man, light –damn near white, could have passed but decided to fight against the madness and remain black. Momma Dot, on any given Sunday morning, was right up there near the front –“amening” with the best of them. But Friday and Saturday, and most any other night were quite different. You see –Momma Dot, along with Uncle Otis (even lighter, if you can imagine), ran the 38 Club just down the street from the Armor/Swift Packing Houses (actually this was the slaughter house) –up on the hill in National City. The 38 Club was among a string of taverns and hangouts that lined the road leading from the Packing Houses. Each of the clubs offered varying degrees of pleasures and treats in their attempts to strip the workers of their meager paychecks before they could get home to the misses and kiddies. The 38 Club, offering gambling in the back room, drinks and a dance in the remainder of the first floor, and several ‘private’ rooms for guests on the second floor. Momma Dot ran the second floor, hence her name. Mamma Dot had it going on, and I, along with other cousins and kin, frequently were allowed to hang out.

I had a whole assortment of aunts and a slew of uncles. My pre-teen years were peppered with the most colorful of ‘relatives’ and the most strange of memories. I remember many of these evenings, when the weekends were spent, for me, playing tonk with my ‘aunts and uncles’. In the middle of one game, just as Aunt Jessie was about to slam down her cards, a guest approached, leaned down real close, and loudly whispered, “How much for a ride in your wagon?”

She, eying me, looked demurely up from her cards, recalling that this was a pay Friday, declared

“Twenty-five would get you a first-class ticket”.

“Twenty-five”, he exclaimed, “Damn high for a nickel hoe”.

He was about to say more, but before he could, and without me knowing, she had produced a razor and just like that had slid it across his face, leaving the tiniest line which immediately turned red as the blood trickled through the wound.

Looking with surprise, he drew his gun, shouting, “You bitch, I’m gonna . . .”

Before he could finish his thought, three guns were nudging his temple –Uncle Otis holding on, and two of my other uncles, the others. Uncle Otis, without a smile, said, “Either use it or lose it, your call, and make it quick.”

Obediently, the guest dropped his and waited for the tension in the room to ease.

Uncle Otis “Looks like you owe this lady an apology, then get your stuff.”

Murmuring something only the floor heard, the guest picked up his gun, at which Uncle Otis declared, “You gotta ask Ms. Jessie if you can have that, it now belongs to her.”

Ms Jessie, now slowly licking the blood from her razor, “Why sure suggah, you can have your lil’ piece, if’n you trade wit me. Just put those family jewels on the table, they look about right, do ya wanna trade? Oh, no, well then the gun’s mine.”

“Momma Dot, you reckon he can stay?”

“Nope, we only allow gentlemen in this establishment. Hank, show him the door.”

Walking sluggishly to the door, the rest of the patrons resumed their drinking and such.

Uncle Hank, holding the door open, said, “Now, don’t come back here again, ya hear?”

“Yes, Sir.”

The door closes with a bang.

Looking at me as if nothing had happened, well, this had only taken about 3-5 minutes, Aunt Jessie spread her hand, like a little girl on her first Christmas day, shouted –"Tunk, I win".

I began counting my cards. Darn, I had three kings, a couple of queens, and a 9. Oh. Well, at least I was learning to count.

So what kind of reaction would you expect when a self-assured, black woman who is unafraid of promoting herself steps out on the world stage and challenges white, male hegemonic power structures? Who and where might the attack come from? And what does this say about the power of place/space and identity in the United States and the world today? Short answer- the action and the reactions are political.  The event speaks to the very core of political participation, political movements, and political discourse.  What event am I speaking of –that literally rocked the very foundations of white, male political hegemony –none other than the 2016 Super Bowl performance of Beyoncé and the release of her critically acclaimed ‘Formation’ single.  Let us deconstruct this performance and see how it pertains to various interrelated political processes.

So, what exactly was so political about Beyoncé’s performance of ‘Formation’?   In order to appreciate, deconstruct, and interrogate the political components of this performance, we must take a brief tour through the United States history, particularly as it relates to Creoles, free women of color, and white men of privilege during the late 18th century in the former Spanish and French colonies of the Americas. 

 Briefly, between 1791 and 1804, thousands of refugees fleeing the Santa Dominique slave revolution immigrated to New Orleans.  Out of this flood of humanity, a strange and unique system came into being, referred to as "ménagères" (literally "housekeepers"), which Clark argues were free women of color who engaged in sexual partnerships with white elite men in New Orleans.  The women represented a dual role of both being demonized as “an insatiable consumer who seduced white men, including United States white men, (and) tempting them away from their proper roles as faithful husbands and fathers”. (Clark 53-54).  The "ménagères, was depicted as being a sexually dangerous, irresistible figure that overwhelmed white men’s attachment to white women.  Quadroon balls emerged as a political institution designed to control this perceived threat.  In these balls, white men could enjoy the performance of quadroon women, flirt, dance, and even purchase an evening of their company (Clark: 172). These balls and the menagerie who participated were a Haitian import adapted to exploit the male hegemony of the slavocracy of New Orleans.  In the process they advanced the material and political of black women descendants from these refugees.   These balls were exclusive events where Creole women were essentially placed on display for white male patrons.  The best way to describe the Quadroon Balls is as a political event in which Creole women traded exclusive access to their bodies for specified economic and political benefits for their children.  These exchanges recognized the power dynamic of slaveocracies, which ceded economic and political power to the white male land-owning aristocracy.  By definition, slaveocracies thus became the embodiment of white, male hegemony in which power coalesced into the hands of elite, white males.   These exchanges were typically orchestrated or brokered by the young women's mothers. These mothers were typically referred to as the Mistress.  The children of these unions were granted inheritance rights, and the males were often given college educations in France.  Over time, the quadroons (which means ¼ black) became a part of the burgeoning Creole populations in New Orleans and Louisiana.  Later, by the 1830s, these balls became commercial ventures that marketed sex tourism into New Orleans and were now organized by white men.  These balls differed greatly from those organized by black Mistresses, in that the black women participants no longer had either the power or the influence of the “"ménagères".  She was now considered a “plaçage” (literally “to place with”) where the balance of the power now shifted to white men.  Thus disempowered, the plaçage was fully controlled by white men whose political power was threatened by the previous system. 

  It is into this political conversation that Beyoncé’s Formation emerged.  In this performance, she depicted not only the Quadroon balls, where black mothers were dominant, but also black women as “menagerie” reclaims this political history and power. She also contemporized this with imagery of black women in leather, reminiscent of another political movement associated with black liberation, the Black Power movement and the Black Panthers.  Lastly, Beyoncé brought attention to the current-day movement associated with # BlackLivesMatter #.  All in a 4.42-minute video – “Formation”.  The result has been a political firestorm, as she demonstrates a creative way to participate in political dialogue, organization, and debate.  Were her efforts successful?  An estimated 104 million viewers watched Beyoncé’s performance.  But members of the National Sheriff’s Association were angered by the performance, which they viewed as anti-police.  (Lennard 2016) Mayor Rudolf Giuliani affirmed this sentiment and stated, “I thought it was outrageous that she used it as a platform to attack police officers.” (Quoted in Lennard 2016)   Many of the singer’s fan base, known as the “Beyhhive,” countered by saying, “When Black women affirm Blackness/Black womanhood, they are attacked and silenced. We asked our biggest stars to get political and Bey went there.  Don’t let anyone make her powerful statement about the value of Black life be overshadowed by those who don’t believe that our lives matter.” (Quoted by Howard 2016) Well, regardless of how you view this work, given the uproar, we can only conclude that, as a political project, it was successful.

Beyoncé’s performance calls to mind a number of other political events that were fostered by alternative forms of political participation.  Several pivotal moments throughout our history can be identified that highlight the significance of these unique forms of expression.  And the character that provided the subject matter was one of many Mammas, such as Mama Mary Ellen Pleasant. 

 

    In 1860, one of the richest women in America was Mary Ellen Pleasant. At the height of her life, it is estimated Ms. Pleasant investment portfolio was worth as much as $30 million-a figure today that would make her a billionaire.  (Huddleston 2020) She speculated in land, had several accounts, owned several boarding houses, and a major real estate tycoon.  Ms. Pleasant, in all likelihood, may be considered to be the mother of the abolitionist movement.  She, a staunch abolitionist, contributed $30,000 in 1858 to support John Brown’s Harpers Ferry Raid.  She established the local Underground Railroad.  She was also a precursor to the modern civil rights movement, possibly being the first to give up her seat on a streetcar in the late 1860s.  She even sued the streetcar company in court for refusing her a seat, and guess what –she won. (Lowe 2007)  As a major underworld figure, she was known as a fixer.  She was the go to person if you wanted to solve a grievance, find a wife, or go into business.  She was known for locating homes for unwanted, illegitimate children.  In San Francisco, there is a Mary Ellen Pleasant Day, a Mary Ellen Pleasant Park, and she is considered the mother of civil rights in California.  Oh did I say, she paid for all of this through profits garnered through the chain of bordellos she operated.  (White 2017)

Madame Stephanie St. Clair (1897-1969)

 

 

 

   The Matriarch, who laid the foundation for what it means to be “hood famous” in the most famous hood in the country –Harlem.   AKA Queenie, Madame Saint-Clair, and Queen of the Policy Rackets was an American gangster who operated several illegal enterprises in Harlem, New York, and successfully fought the Mafia, running numbers, prostitution, and drugs in Harlem.  She was also a civil rights activist. 

Perhaps the most consistent fact about Madame Saint-Clair is that she orchestrated not only her life but also her story.  Hence, some of the stories of her life might have been self-constructed, reflecting a desire to control her story rather than be controlled by it.  Thus, while little is actually known about her first 26 years, the remaining years are part of a rich history.  I present some of these early stories, with the full awareness that it might be part of the Queen’s ultimate scam.  In telling these and other stories, I am reminded that for many women living at the crux of precarity, rules, norms, and attitudes were self-constructed to meet the needs of survival and not society. Respectability was more related to economic viability, family stability, and stability than impressing others.  This meant that some black women were more willing to engage in both the underground and the above-ground economy.  (Wolcott 2001:67)

Stephanie Saint-Clair was born in the West Indies to a single mother of mixed French and African descent.  Her mother, Felicienne, worked hard to put her daughter in a private school.  These efforts were cut short when Felicienne died, forcing Stephanie to leave school at the age of 15.  She obtained employment as a maid for a rich family, where she was repeatedly raped by the son. Saving her money, she tried to flee to France in 1910.  But even being literate, quite a quality for a black woman of the time, she could not find employment.  She then immigrated to the United States, landing in New York in 1911.   Upon arriving in Harlem, she fell in love with a small-time crook named Duke who tried to force her into prostitution.  She killed him for his efforts, with a fork to the eye, and fled New York.  The bus was stopped by the Ku Klux Klan, where several black passengers were hanged or burnt alive while she watched.  They then repeatedly raped her.  She returned to New York and decided to start her own business selling drugs.  For her new boyfriend –Ed.  She was quite successful, earning Ed some $30,000.  She decided to go out on her own, and Ed then tried to strangle him.  She cracked his skull against a table, and he too died.  By 1917, this powerful woman was bringing cops in, owning property, running a successful numbers game, and was known throughout Harlem as Madam St-Clair.  By the 1920 she was living lavishly, earning over 20,000 per year just from the numbers.  A third husband, that also tried to pimp her, was also almost killed.  This time she was arrested and imprisoned for attempted murder. In her defense, she declared that “If I had wanted him dead, he would be dead”.    In the height of her fame, she became a Race woman, taking out ads in the local newspapers to educate Harlem residents regarding their legal rights, advocating for voting rights, and calling out police brutality that targeted the black community.  Police responded by arresting her on trumped-up charges, which resulted in her spending months in the workhouse.  This did not stop her, as she then testified to the Seabury Commission about kick-backs she paid police and those who participated in the Harlem numbers racket, causing dozens of police to be fired. (Helm 2020)

These black Mama’s/ Madams were different from the pimps and drug dealers of the day.  They brought to crime a serious concern for the black community.  They, often victims of repeated sexual abuse, turned their hatred of abuse into criminal empires, but with a conscience.  No, I am not trying to romanticize black crime organizations, but I am trying to point out some interesting differences. Black women are transformative, rebellious, and truly determined to make a difference.  And why should this matter?  Black women, girls, and women of color in general are the leading categories of people vulnerable to abuse.  About 22 percent of all Black women in the contemporary United States experience rape.  Forty percent will experience intimate partner violence in their lives.  Black women are killed at significantly higher rates than other women; they are 53 percent more likely to experience sexual violence, 56% to experience domestic violence.  Further, black women are seldom seen as victims.  Instead, they are seen as deserving of harm, not as the perpetrators, not as the victims.  Black women, perceived as being unrapable, become easy targets for abuse, and their stories, particularly those of low-income Black women, are less likely to be believed. (Finoh and Sankofa 2019) 

This is today, and while there is still a need for some Black Mammas, we can and must do better.  We need to change the narrative, we need to provide protection, we need to halt the R. Kelly's, Bill Cosby's, and other sexual perpetrators that continually victimize our young girls and, yes, young boys.  Leading this conversation, we need to talk about how the racialized sexual exploitation of people of color, developed during slavery and colonization, continues to drive the cultural expectations and attitudes regarding children of color that become trapped in commercial sex trafficking today.   (Butler 2015)

Source: http://www.victimsofcrime.org/library/crime-information-and-statistics/human-trafficking

Over 50 percent of those who are victims of trafficking are children, overwhelmingly girls, and the large majority are people of color. Girls and women of color who are survivors of sexual abuse are less likely to report the violence.  This is because the criminal justice system is more likely to treat rape victims more like suspects than victims.  Worse still is the reality that police themselves are likely to be the chief perpetrators of assaults.  Calling out these police and the system, giving voice to the victims, and providing not only a space for their stories but also their healing is necessary.  And this space can start right here.  We talk about reparations, repairing the damage.  What better place than right here, by creating a scholarship fund for sexual abuse victims? I challenge the NPHC, yes, I am a Kappa, to work with local agencies to help identify recipients, to create pipelines, and to help raise funds to pay for such scholarships. What better way to be involved, what better way to repair the damage?  Oh, yes. Let’s stop with the misdemeanors and light sentencing.  Treat Rape and sex trafficking as major felonies with real time.  Finally, civil lawsuits, recognizing that many of the traffickers are middle-class men, go after their money to help repair the damage.