Virginia to Gov. Ralph Northam: “Beat It!”
Virginia Gov. Ralph Northam doesn’t know why he was nicknamed “Coonman” at his medical school or why the name stuck, but he’s certain that he’s not the smiling minstrel or the Klansman in the school yearbook photo that undermined his moral authority and generated calls for his resignation.
When the photo surfaced Friday, Mr. Northam apologized and acknowledged the pain it had caused. By Saturday, he blamed the previous day’s apology, which he retracted, on feeling conflicted about a blackface incident in which he had vivid memories.
In 1984, when he was in his mid-20s and about to graduate from Eastern Virginia Medical School, Mr. Northam somehow found the time to enter a talent show to compete in a dance routine as Michael Jackson.
Mr. Jackson just happened to be the biggest star in the world at the time thanks to an electrifying performance of “Billie Jean” on “Motown 25” the previous year and the unprecedented sales of “Thriller,” then on its way to becoming the biggest-selling solo album of all time.
When Fred Astaire saw Michael Jackson perform “Billie Jean” on “Motown 25” in May 1983, he called him the next day to congratulate him for what he considered a flawless performance.
Even MTV, which had previously been segregated, put every black artist who had ever made a video into heavy rotation after the success of the “Billie Jean” video. This, mind you, was the same performance “Coonman” felt confident enough to emulate for a 1984 talent show.
“I had the shoes. I had the glove. And I used just a little bit of shoe polish to put on my cheeks and the reason I used a very little bit because — I don’t know if anyone’s ever tried that — you cannot get shoe polish off,” Mr. Northam said, explaining racist stage craft that’s been around since the mid-1800s.
“I had always liked Michael Jackson,” he said, despite forgetting the performer’s name a few minutes later. “I actually won the contest because I had learned to do the moonwalk.” At that point, his wife had to stop him from busting a move for the cameras.
It’s hard to imagine a more insane example of white privilege and cultural obliviousness than 25-year-old Ralph “Coonman” Northam, his cheeks smeared with shoe polish, hoisting first prize over his head just because he was coordinated enough to execute a passable moonwalk for a panel of know-nothing judges. There’s no way that someone who truly respected Michael Jackson could wear shoe polish on his face as part of some “homage.”
Did he also wear a wig during his “tribute”? Did he also learn to pop his hips the way Michael Jackson did during the song’s menacing bass line?
Think about it. It takes far more cultural contempt to enter a talent contest with shoe polish on your face in imitation of a black superstar than to stand around a dorm room sipping beer with “Lost Cause” losers dressed as minstrels and KKK trash. Confederate cosplay was common for dorm room parties in that era. Stepping out as Michael Jackson was coonery at a much higher level.
It’s one thing for white folks to imitate Michael Jackson — or any black artist. Thousands have done so for decades to the cultural edification of all Americans. But once shoe polish or dark paint is applied to a smirking face, it automatically becomes a throwback to a more sinister era in which blacks were fair game for theatrical humiliation.
For those who wonder what the big deal is when blackface is done without conscious malice, imagine it going the other way. Could Bruno Mars get away with donning whiteface in “tribute” to Gene Kelly without the rightwing commentariat losing its collective mind?
Some cynics might argue that, in the late ‘80s, Michael Jackson himself engaged in dubious racial politics by lightening his skin and having his black facial features surgically altered. If anything, his racial dysmorphia speaks to the internalized hatred of blackness in a nation where it is aided and abetted by what the media celebrate. Michael Jackson was brilliant, but he wasn’t the most psychologically healthy person in the world.
Ironically, “Billie Jean” itself is a paranoid disavowal of parental and societal responsibility: “Billie Jean is not my lover / She’s just a girl who claims that I am the one / But the kid is not my son / She says I am the one / but the kid is not my son.”
Thirty-five years after donning blackface to moonwalk, Gov. Ralph Northam is desperately trying to explain a photo that could end his political career: “They say I am the one (in the picture), but I’m really not that dumb” doesn’t quite cut it.
So, how did a man on the cusp of graduating from medical school get saddled with the nickname “Coonman?” Could it have something to do with the coonery required to wear blackface? Nah, I’m sure Mr. Northam always conducted himself with egalitarian dignity around the good ol’ boys who knew him best.