How to Write Authentic African-American Characters: The African-American Church

I went to my fifth Colorado Gold Conference this year and had an absolute blast. I taught two classes, as well. How to Write Compelling Villains was super fun to teach (I mean, as fun as an 8 a.m. class can be to teach on Sunday morning). The other class I taught was How to Write Authentic African-American Characters.
In that class, I talked about how the African-American community evolved, the major events that forced that evolution, and the institutions African-Americans created within our community that helped us survive and thrive. One of these cultural institutions is the African-American church.

After my class, I had a really good discussion with an earnest gentleman who was convinced that the Christian church actually was an impediment to the African-American community, not a benefit. He spoke passionately about how the church supported slavery, taught slaves to “turn the other cheek,” and settle for less throughout the Antebellum period and Jim Crow.

As we talked, I listened to his arguments and conceded where I could. He was very right in a number of ways. “But what you fail to see is everything the black church did to support the community,” I told him. This is what my blog is about today.

For over two hundred years, the black church was the social welfare net that bound the African-American community together. If you were black and poor, the church could give you money to pay your rent, get you a meal to eat, or find a place for you live. The church also acted as an informal job placement center. Voter registration drives occurred in the church. (Why do you think every Democratic candidate for President goes to the 1st AME Church of Atlanta when they run for public office?)

Then there was vacation Bible school. For many working parents, summer was a nightmare – especially if you had young children. But the local church would offer vacation Bible school: a place where your young child would be safe. At some churches, it was all day long. At others, it was half a day. But a working parent could count on activities, adult supervision, breakfast, and maybe an afternoon snack or even lunch for four to six weeks throughout the summer. All for a small fee.

The church was where you came for support when you needed it, and where you celebrated, too. As a young black man growing up in Los Angeles in the 1980s, I can tell you the first place I met educated black men was in the church. I learned that you treated people with dignity because they were children of God – no matter how far they strayed. I learned that we were a family. Every man’s title was “Brother.” Every woman’s title was “Sister.” If you were over a certain age, you graduated to being a “Mother” or “Father” of the church.

More important than any of the things I have written about, the African-American church had a culture that grounded me. I remember being in second grade and my grandmother making me memorize the 23rd Psalms. I hated that summer, and I hated memorizing it. But when my own mother died unexpectedly when I was 26, that psalm came flooding back to me. It provided me comfort in the midst of the storm.

Above everything else, my experience with the black church was one of comfort, community, and hope.

Now, that doesn’t mean there weren’t problems. The black church, like any church, was filled with flawed, wounded people who made tragic mistakes. We had our alcoholics. We had men who beat their wives, wives who cheated on their husbands. We had embezzlers, liars, and hypocrites of all kinds.

So how do you reflect this in your characters? How do you hint at this culture? Your African-American character may not even be a church-goer anymore. That’s fine. Here’s an example.

Susan pulled herself off her couch to get another box of tissues. As she blew her nose again, Rebecca emerged from the kitchen with two mugs of coffee. The smell soon permeated the room and lightened Susan’s mood as she took a cup. “How could this have happened?” Susan took a sip. “It was all going so well.”

Rebecca sat next to Susan and brushed her tight, dark curls out of her face before taking a sip of her own. “It will be all right.” She placed a hand on Susan’s arm. “You know, my grandmamma used to read the Bible all the time. She loved the psalms. Whenever I had trouble at school, or with my mama, Grandmamma used to say ‘Becky, cease your striving.’”

Susan was puzzled. “What does that mean?”

“It means you’re not control, so stop worrying. Stop planning. You need to rest. To stop trying to control everything. Stop your striving.”

Susan’s eyes welled with tears. “I’m so tired, Becky.”

You see what happened there? There was no hefty exposition, no scenes at church. But from the scene, we get the impression that Rebecca’s grandmother was a large influence on her life. We also get to see that Rebecca at least grew up around people who went to church. It’s that simple.

As the year goes on, I’ll blog more on African-American culture, the role of the church as a social glue, and other things relevant to the African-American church.