reactions. We could tell it was going to be a challenge from the instant nervousness that flooded our stomachs as we prepared to be Black men. We had discussed before the potential dangers we would be subjected to: extra police surveillance, potential heckling, and downright      fear. But we were not prepared for what we endured. I don't know that  anyone besides a real Black man ever could be. 
      It started easy enough with a visit to the Southside Open Pantry near my home. We did the obligatory head nod to a couple of Black men standing out front of the store. They reciprocated, looking hard,  and then realizing we were in a costume, they laughed or smiled warmly.  They understood the critique. We went to pay for our Black  & Mild cigars and a box of toothpicks as a Black woman stood ahead of us in line. She turned around, initially with a look of disgust spread across her face, which quickly dissolved into the same warm smile once she realized we were performing a parody. 
      We decided to branch out and take a trek over to the east side. Our stops included a grocery store and a drugstore where I  shopped for household supplies. Store clerks watched me suspiciously and customers attempted to stare surreptitiously. Few people were willing to look at us, even when our grillz or chains were not showing. All they could discern was a Black male figure walking down the store aisle or down the street to his car. There was an air of hostility everywhere we went. People curled their noses up or stared back at us with mean-spirited scowls. But  what was interesting is that the people who were most willing to look at us were White women. Then their interests seldom waned even once they realized we were women. 
      Later that night, the real test began. We called for a cab. The cab drove past us twice before we asked him if he was responding to our call. Two passengers were already in the car and the woman said, after realizing we were dressed up,  "I said to the cab driver, I hope we aren't picking up those pimp daddies." She laughed thinking  her racism was cool.
      "They verbalized this fear," said Robyn.  "Even though we had not done anything to them, but stand outside waiting for our cab, it was understood just by looking at us that  maybe we should not be picked up or given the same courtesy as any other customer who calls for a cab."
      After an uncomfortable cab ride, we joined a group of friends at a downtown bar. The bartender was determined to show us no kindness or warmth even after he realized our teeth and chains were phony and that we were simply in a Halloween costume. I think our Blackness in      general was offense enough for him. 
      As the night went on, we received more and more of what a member of our party called "pervasive antagonism from ignorant  onlookers."  It was Halloween night and people all around us were dressed up as beer kegs, giant penises, slutty cops and clowns but few got the same nasty looks and muffled insults Robyn and I received. Why weren't our costumes acceptable? It seemed to trigger a deep racism inside perhaps the most  "liberal" Madisonian. It also fostered  a deep sense of sexual stereotyping.
      There seemed to be a lot of hyper-sexualization of the Black male body. There was a girl dressed in a scandalous army outfit who felt comfortable enough to offer her body to me and Robyn, who she may have believed to be a Black man. Robyn had this to say about her experience:  "I  figured that dressing-up as one of the Ying Yang Twins would not only be a Halloween costume, but also a social experiment, especially after the undercover work I did in Chicago as a civil rights investigator."
      Even though Madison has a reputation for being a progressive community with forward thinking, in my opinion it still has a long way to go concerning race relations, just like most towns and cities in the U.S. This experience as well as my previous work experience further      confirms what I already knew -- that racism still exists.  
      I learned that many people still operate in a cloud of fear, suspicion, and hostility toward Black men [people], as if we need to be watched more carefully than others or  that ;we are a natural danger to society. 
      As a grill-wearing Black man in Madison, I felt more at risk, a bit isolated, and somewhat vulnerable when moving about around town. It was a real eye opener and I'd do it all over again to learn the lessons I did that night. It challenged my views and also taught me that as Americans, we all have a long way to go when it comes to race relations in this country and how we treat people that do not look like us.
      When I returned to campus as a student and teaching  assistant, I told my professors and students about our encounters.  "Well, perhaps it was the kind of Black man you were portraying"  was a response that knocked me off my feet. So certain Black men deserve this kind of behavior while others do not? And who is  kind enough to deliver the distinction? I was under the impression that human beings deserve to be treated as just that, a human being regardless  of his style of dress or taste in music. Why does Blackness need an acceptable form?
       In the end, I am not sure what our costumes meant to  others but it gave me an insight into a world I had taken for granted or perhaps it was just a world I simply could have never fully imagined had I not participated in this exercise: the world of Black manhood. In the wake of my realization, all I can say is hold your head up, Black man, and try to hold on.
Blackness and Halloween
They don't mix in Madison
By Keme Hawkins
Robyn Donaldson (l) and Keme Hawkins dressed up as a rap duo to gauge reactions on Halloween.
     Halloween in Madison is best known for its rioting and random racist costuming. At least this is what I was told the minute I stepped foot onto the campus. I even went out last year to see exactly what  the fuss was about. It was a fairly safe evening or dinner, cocktails and people watching. But I was not in costume and was safe in my bed by midnight that night. But this year I really put Madison Halloween to the  test. 
      My friend, Robyn Donaldson, and I decided to dress up as the Atlanta-based rap duo the Ying Yang Twins. They are most known for their song "Shake It like a Salt Shaker," which you may be able to guess is referring to a woman shaking her behind. We were being clever, sardonic,  ironic and satirical, or so we imagined ourselves. Two educated Black women, one with a law degree and the other a current graduate student, donned fake grillz, using a piece of tin foil and a slip-on gold tooth with a dollar sign in the middle of it, fake bling, a diamond studded necklace with yet another dollar sign hanging (Robyn wore a crucifix) and the obligatory all black (Robyn wore all white). I even wore a fake goatee glued onto my face. Then we hit the town. 
      We had decided that we would be Ying Yang all day. That morning after breakfast we put on our costume and headed out to gauge people's