Table Of ContentAfrican Spiritual Traditions in the Novels of Toni Morrison
University Press of florida
Florida A&M University, Tallahassee
Florida Atlantic University, Boca Raton
Florida Gulf Coast University, Ft. Myers
Florida International University, Miami
Florida State University, Tallahassee
New College of Florida, Sarasota
University of Central Florida, Orlando
University of Florida, Gainesville
University of North Florida, Jacksonville
University of South Florida, Tampa
University of West Florida, Pensacola
African Spiritual Traditions in
the Novels of Toni Morrison
f
K. Zauditu-Selassie
University Press of Florida
Gainesville/Tallahassee/Tampa/Boca Raton
Pensacola/Orlando/Miami/Jacksonville/Ft. Myers/Sarasota
Copyright 2009 by Kokahvah Zauditu-Selassie
All rights reserved
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Zauditu-Selassie, K.
African spiritual traditions in the novels of Toni Morrison / K. Zauditu-Selassie.
p. cm.
Includes bibliographical references and index.
ISBN 978-0-8130-3328-0 (alk. paper)
ISBN 978-0-8130-4009-7 (e-book)
1. Morrison, Toni—Criticism and interpretation. 2. Morrison, Toni—Spirtualistic
interpretations. 3. Morrison, Toni—Knowledge—Africa. 4. American literature—
African influences. 5. Yoruba (African people) in literature. 6. African Americans in
literature. 7. Spirituality in literature. 8. Africa—In literature. I. Title.
PS3563.O8749Z97 2008
813'54—dc22 2008040296
The University Press of Florida is the scholarly publishing agency for the State Univer-
sity System of Florida, comprising Florida A&M University, Florida Atlantic University,
Florida Gulf Coast University, Florida International University, Florida State University,
New College of Florida, University of Central Florida, University of Florida, University
of North Florida, University of South Florida, and University of West Florida.
University Press of Florida
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Gainesville, FL 32611-2079
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Parts of chapters 2 and 3 were published previously in “I Got a Home in Dat Rock:
Memory, Òrìsà, and Yoruba Spiritual Identity in African American Literature,” in Orisa:
Yoruba Gods and Spiritual Identity in Africa and the African Diaspora, edited by Toyin
Falola and Ann Genova. Trenton, N.J.: Africa World Press, 2005.
Parts of chapters 1, 4, and 5 were published in “Women Who Know Things: African Epis-
temologies, Ecocriticism, and Female Spiritual Authority in the Novels of Toni Morrison.”
Journal of Pan African Studies 1, no.7 (March 2007): 38–57.
Contents
Acknowledgments vii
Preface: Dancing between Two Realms ix
Introduction: There’s a Little Wheel a Turnin’ in My Heart: Cultural
Concentricities and Enduring Identities 1
Part 1. Ancestral Echoes Positing a Spiritual Frame
1. I’s Got the Blues: Malochia, Magic, and the Descent into Madness in
The Bluest Eye 27
2. Always: The Living Ancestor and the Testimony of Will in Sula 49
Part 2. Psychic Domains and Spiritual Locations
3. I’ve Got a Home in Dat Rock: Ritual and the Construction of Family
History in Song of Solomon 69
4. Dancing with Trees and Dreaming of Yellow Dresses: The Dilemma of
Jadine in Tar Baby 97
5. In(her)iting the Divine: (Consola)tions, Sacred (Convent)ions, and
Mediations of the Spiritual In-between in Paradise 119
Part 3. Remembrance Has Not Left Us: What the Record Shows
6. Living with the Dead: Memory and Ancestral Presence in Beloved 145
7. Tracing Wild’s Child Joe and Tracking the Hunter: An Examination of
the Òrìsà Ochossi in Jazz 168
8. If I’d a Knowed More, I Would a Loved More: Toni Morrison’s Love
and Spiritual Authorship 189
Glossary 201
Notes 211
Works Cited 225
Index 239
Acknowledgments
This project was completed over many years of shifting jobs, attitudes, and
cities, and also old and new colleagues and friendships. Many people have
helped me along the way; I regret that I cannot thank each one individu-
ally. While in graduate school at Clark Atlanta University, I was blessed to
have dedicated professors, all intellectuals, who believed that it was im-
portant to be creative and to think thoughts outside the main of literary
criticism. I would like to thank them all. Additionally, I am grateful to Dr.
Jean Billingslea Brown, Dr. Ernestine Pickens Glass, Dr. Janice Liddell, Dr.
Charlyn Harper Browne, all colleagues of mine from the Atlanta University
Center.
To my former students at Morris Brown College, where I taught for
fourteen years, you inspired many of the formulations presented in this
book, especially members of my seminar course, the Novels of Toni Mor-
rison. To my former students at Bowie State University, I thank you for
bearing with me as I rehearsed my ideas with you in African American
Seminar. I am also indebted to members of the Toni Morrison Society, Dr.
Carolyn Denard, Dr. Marilyn Sanders Mobley, Dr. Deborah Barnes, Dr.
Angelyn Mitchell, and Dr. Adrienne Lanier Seward, for support over the
years including critiques of papers presented at society meetings. Some
extraordinary colleagues, Dr. Mario H. Beatty, Dr. Valethia Watkins, and
Dr. Marimba Ani have enriched my intellectual and personal life with their
strong and focused vision for the development of African people. Addi-
tional gratitude is extended to Ras Michael Brown, for sharing information
on Central African spirituality and its impact on African Americans in the
low country of South Carolina and Georgia. Thank you to Nobel laure-
ate Wole Soyinka, for encouraging me to pursue my ideas on Morrison’s
encoding of Yoruba Òrìsà and to Dr. Richard Schechner of New York Uni-
versity’s Tisch School of Performing Arts who asked the pivotal question:
“Why write an article on Morrison when you could write a book?”
I am thankful to my editor at the University of Florida Press, Amy Gore-
lick, for her patient and unwavering support for this project. Additionally,
a generous grant in 1993 from the National Endowment for the Humanities
contributed to some of the ideas foundational to this current study.
viii k Acknowledgments
Thank you to my mother Marcelite Dolores Landry-Evans, mother of
seven, who taught me the supremacy of belief in God, devotion to Ye-
monja, and faith in the ancestors. Thanks for supporting my need to dance.
Because you drove me from dance to dance and created unique dance out-
fits for me every week, I learned at an early age the value of soul free-
dom. I also express appreciation to my grandmother, Esther Dolores Rabb
(Moms) who continues to mentor me in the understanding of the spirit
world. While on earth, she taught me to consider that although everything
that exists is not visible, it still exists. To my husband, Mahseeyahu, for the
emotional and financial support to walk the African world, from Atlanta
to Addis Ababa, from Brooklyn to Brazil, from Memphis to Mali, and from
Los Angeles to Lomé in search of the manifestations of spirit, may you
always be blessed for the encouragement you have given me. To my son,
Angola, who has shown me the importance of doing things that honor a
commitment to happiness, as well as for sharing with me the importance
of having a dream, I offer my appreciation. To my twin, Isoke, and to my
other sisters, Rochelle, Stacie, and Thia, I appreciate your encouragement.
Much love and respect to my elders, my Ojubona, my godchildren, and
my daughters, Yaba, Ifetayo, and Titilayo. To my Iyalosa, Oseye Mchawi, I
express my gratitude for your having crowned me Omo Obatala. May all
the Òrìsà and spiritual forces of the universe sustain you and bless you.
Your spiritual brilliance and ethical resolve provide sturdy examples of how
to live in truth. Finally, I would like to thank my father, Lawrence J. Evans,
Abbasante Shabaka, who made his spiritual transition into the world of the
ancestors while I was completing this book. You taught me the beauty of
language, the value of humor, and the promise of knowledge. Continue to
walk in light and love on your journey.
Preface
Dancing between Two Realms
That we the black people are one people we know. Destroyers
will travel long distances in their minds and out to deny you this
truth.
—Ayi Kwei Armah, Two Thousand Seasons
Make a drumbeat, Put it on a record, let it whirl, And while we
listen to it play, Dance with you till day—
—Langston Hughes, “Juke Box Love Song”
In one of my earliest recollections of myself, I am dancing. Yes, when I was
young, I was that little dancing girl. On various holiday occasions, when
my friends’ relatives would visit them, they would send for me, saying, “Go
get that little dancin’ gal.” Honoring their requests, I would perform dances
such as “Mickey’s Monkey,” accompanied by Smokey Robinson and the
Miracles as the 45 rpm record circled clockwise around the record player’s
turntable. Over the years, I danced Marvin Gaye’s “Hitchhike,” Archie Bell
and the Drells’ “Tighten Up,” The Capitols’ “Cool Jerk,” the Orlons’ “The
Wah Watutsi,” and the Knickerbockers’ “Twine Time.” I especially looked
forward to the imported dances my junior aunt would show me upon her
return to Los Angeles from her yearly summer trips to Chicago. Out on
the dance floor, even though most of the dances I did were performed
with one dance partner, there was a sense of community, because of the
collective performance of other dancers sharing the dance space. Wearing
our favorite dance “faces” (mine was hanging my tongue out of the side of
my mouth, while my sister’s was biting her bottom lip), we chanted dance
sounds, communicating a sense of well-being summoned from the energy
and force manifested by the unity of music and movement. I did not realize
until many years later that most of the dances we did were accompanied
by songs that oftentimes provided explicit instructions to ensure a uni-
