Divided City? Anthroman to the Rescue

by Bruce Schimmel

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Published: Dec 17, 2008

John Jackson's work is so tricky that he's created a superhero alter ego to help him out. But he's not a cop or a firefighter. John L. Jackson Jr. is an associate professor of anthropology and communications at Penn.

What's so tough about that? As he defines it, Jackson's job is get people to talk about racism. To throw light on the invisible elephant that ironically looms even larger since Obama's ascent. (Hear our entire conversation at: schimmel.com/jackson_081210.mp3.)

Jackson warns that dialogue on race will be "difficult. There's going to be gnashing of teeth. It's not going to be calm and cool."

This is a problem for Jackson — who grew up in Brooklyn and says he's a "very shy guy."

Fortunately, Jackson is blessed with a sweet sense of humor. On his office wall is a picture of Bill Clinton, America's "first" black president, re-drawn and colorized as an African-American. Jackson's laugh is a good-hearted one.

And so with tongue firmly in cheek, the Penn professor created an avatar called "Anthroman" — an action figure, whose adventures are chronicled at anthromania.blogspot.com.

"Anthroman has the courage to talk to people that I would otherwise never talk to," says Jackson. "That, for me, that little bit of fiction, that little bit of pretending and make-believe, has such incredible, productive force."

A productive force, indeed. In his various books, the young scholar explores dimensions of racism hidden in plain view. His most recent, Racial Paranoia (Basic Civitas), details the unintended consequences of political correctness — which he says helped propel Dave Chappelle into a self-imposed exile.

Beyond books, Jackson has produced a raft of award-winning films. Having gone to high school near Spike Lee's studio in the '80s, Jackson admits that filmmaking is his first, true love. The two men are now friends.

Next up for Jackson is a book and a film about black Jews. These American Hebrews claim direct lineage to aboriginal Jewish tribes. Some live in Philly. Some even persuaded the Israeli government to let them return.

It's a vast and thorny subject, but Jackson's reach is why Penn President Amy Gutmann selected him in 2006 as the university's first Penn Integrates Knowledge (PIK) professor.

Jackson joined Penn not long before another scholar of race, Michael Eric Dyson, left. Dyson is known for his aloof and armored style; Jackson couldn't be more different. Anthroman is unfailingly kind.

As we chat in Jackson's office, students arrive in a steady stream to turn in their papers for his class, Race Films: Spike Lee and his Interlocutors (which Lee recently visited). There are some 90 students, but the anthropologist greets each student warmly by name, offering help with courses and research.

Philadelphia, a divided city on the mend, could use this superhero's services.

"Anthropology, at its best," says Jackson, teaches us "to listen to each other genuinely, and not just in this forensic mode — just waiting for our time to talk, so we can win the debate. 

"If you are really willing to understand what and why you think about the world, in the way you do, it opens up the tiniest possibility to forge coalitions across communities."

"Dealing honestly with racial paranoia," writes Jackson, "means going out of your way to make friends across racial lines. It's trite, I know, but it is profoundly important."

Jackson lives in deep South Philly with his wife (also an anthropologist), their 2-year-old and an 8-month-old baby. He loves it, he says. It reminds him of Brooklyn. And he's already reaching out and laying down roots.

As we end our conversation, Jackson invites me to dinner at a restaurant near his home. The Italian family that runs it, he says, treats him like family.

Another victory for Anthroman.

Visit Bruce at schimmel.com.

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