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Poor, painful Black face, intruding into the holy places of the whites. How like a specter you haunt the pale devils! How can they bear your presence, Blackface, great, unappeasable ghost of Western civilization!
Claude McKay from A Long Way from Home
His plays are composed like effigies specially designed to torture his enemies, and based on the magical assumption that if one destroys the symbol often enough the reality will also get impaired. . . . They belong less to the conventions of art than they do to the world of black magic.
Charles Marowitz, writing of playwright Ed Bullins
We are Detectives of the metaphysical, about to make an arrest . . .
De Cunjah Man
O Chillen run, de Cunjah man, Him mouf ez beeg ez fryin' pan, Him yurs am small, him eyes am raid, Him hab no toof een him ol' haid, Him hab him roots, him wu'k him trick, Him roll him eye, him mek you sick-- De Cunjah man, de Cunjah man, O chillen run, de Cunjah man! ...