The musicians in August Wilson’s play Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom are forced to navigate complex power dynamics. As Black artists in the exploitative entertainment industry of the 1920s, they’re subject to racist manipulation at the hands of greedy white studio executives. For instance, Sturdyvant treats Ma Rainey poorly, talking about her as if she’s an untrustworthy child who needs to be kept “in line.” Despite his distrusting and racist attitude, though, he still profits off her music. Worse, he offers her meager compensation, paying her one-time recording fees while keeping the royalties all to himself—a practice that was common at the time and that prevented some of the period’s most famous Black musicians from earning what they deserved. But Sturdyvant doesn’t hold all the power in his relationship with Ma. In fact, Ma recognizes that she can use her music’s popularity to her advantage by threatening to withhold her songs. By refusing to let Sturdyvant record her unless he treats her well, Ma subverts the racist power imbalance that often existed between Black and white people in the 1920s. The play thus explores tensions surrounding creative control, indicating that artistic talent can give otherwise disenfranchised people a sense of authority. And this authority, the play suggests, can be wielded to challenge oppressive and exploitative practices.
Instead of treating Black musicians with respect, Sturdyvant treats the artists he records like laborers who exist solely to profit him. For instance, his sole focus is to get Ma to produce popular music that will benefit his record label. His selfish attitude is made evident by the stage note included at the beginning of Act One, which indicates that he’s “preoccupied with money” and “insensitive to black performers.” The word “insensitive” is particularly telling here, as it hints that Sturdyvant only thinks about his own interests and doesn’t care about the actual people whose labor he profits from. In other words, he treats Black performers as if they’re nothing but business assets.
Worse, Sturdyvant actively takes advantage of Black performers. For example, he strings musicians like Levee along: first, he says he likes Levee’s musical style and wants to record him, but when Levee shows him his songs, Sturdyvant changes his mind, suddenly claiming that he doesn’t think they’ll sell “like Ma’s records.” But Sturdyvant isn’t telling the truth here—after all, he already told Irvin at the beginning of the play that Ma’s records are outdated and aren’t selling well in places like New York City. Levee’s music, on the other hand, is fresh and new. And yet, Sturdyvant downplays how marketable Levee’s songs really are, and then he says, “But I’ll take them off your hands for you.” His intention, then, is to pay a small amount for the rights to Levee’s highly profitable songs. He’s able to exploit Levee like this because Levee is an undiscovered musician in the racist, opportunistic world of the music industry in the 1920s. In other words, Sturdyvant leverages his power as a successful white executive to take advantage of his clients.
However, the play suggests that it’s possible for Black performers to protect themselves from racist, exploitative practices by recognizing the value of their own talent. For example, Ma knows that until Sturdyvant secures the rights to her songs, he has no real power over her. If she doesn’t let him record her, he’ll have nothing to sell. Likewise, if she doesn’t agree to sign the release forms, Sturdyvant can’t legally market her album. As such, she repeatedly threatens to abandon the recording session whenever Sturdyvant or Irvin try to make her do something she doesn’t like. When they try to convince her to play an alternate arrangement of her own song, for instance, she informs them that she doesn’t care what they want: “What you all say don’t count with me,” she says. Given the racist power dynamics at play in the United States during the 1920s, Ma’s refusal to do what Sturdyvant or Irvin say is somewhat remarkable, giving her a sense of authority that she might otherwise lack when interacting with white men. Simply put, if these white men want to work with her, they have to do so on her terms. Ma also maintains an upper hand in her relationship with Sturdyvant by not signing the release forms for her songs until the very end of the session. As a result, she can ensure that she and the other musicians get paid fairly—which works out, as Sturdyvant does try to take advantage of Ma by suggesting that Sylvester’s pay will have to come out of her share. The only reason he tries to manipulate Ma in this way, though, is because he thinks he’s already gotten what he wanted: her music. To his surprise, though, Ma reveals that she hasn’t actually signed the release forms, which gives her bargaining power; if Sturdyvant doesn’t do what she says, he won’t be able to sell her music.
Unlike Ma, Levee leaves himself with nothing to leverage, since he eagerly gives Sturdyvant his songs without striking a formal deal. After all, he has already given over his creative talent, which—at least to Sturdyvant—is his most valuable asset. By refusing to work with Levee but still buying the rights to his songs, Sturdyvant sets himself up to profit off of Levee’s music without having to share any of those profits. Prematurely relinquishing creative control therefore puts Levee in a position of complete powerlessness. His unfortunate experience in the music industry illustrates that, although artistic talent could sometimes be used to upend the racist power dynamics at play in the 1920s, Black musicians still had to be extremely vigilant about not letting white executives take advantage of them.
Related Themes from Other Texts
Power and Exploitation ThemeTracker
Power and Exploitation Quotes in Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom
STURDYVANT: I don’t care what she calls herself. I’m not putting up with it. I just want to get her in here...record those songs on that list...and get her out. Just like clockwork, huh?
IRVIN: Like clockwork, Mel. You just stay out of the way and let me handle it.
STURDYVANT: Yeah...yeah...you handled it last time. Remember? She marches in here like she owns the damn place...doesn’t like the songs we picked out...says her throat is sore…doesn’t want to do more than one take...
STURDYVANT: Irv, that horn player...the one who gave me those songs...is he gonna be here today? Good. I want to hear more of that sound. Times are changing. This is a tricky business now. We’ve got to jazz it up...put in something different. You know, something wild...with a lot of rhythm.
(Pause.)
You know what we put out last time, Irv? We put out garbage last time. It was garbage. I don’t even know why I bother with this anymore.
IRVIN: You did all right last time, Mel. Not as good as you did before, but you did all right.
STURDYVANT: You know how many records we sold in New York? You wanna see the sheet? And you know what’s in New York, Irv? Harlem. Harlem’s in New York, Irv.
CUTLER: Slow Drag’s all right. It’s you talking all that weird shit about art. Just play the piece, nigger. You wanna be one of them...what you call...virtuoso or something, you in the wrong place. You ain’t no Buddy Bolden or King Oliver...you just an old trumpet player come a dime a dozen. Talking about art.
LEVEE: What is you? I don’t see your name in lights.
CUTLER: I just play the piece. Whatever they want. I don’t go talking about art and criticizing other people’s music.
CUTLER: Well, until you get your own band where you can play what you want, you just play the piece and stop complaining. I told you when you came on here, this ain’t none of them hot bands. This is an accompaniment band. You play Ma’s music when you here.
LEVEE: I got sense enough to know that. Hell, I can look at you all and see what kind of band it is. I can look at Toledo and see what kind of band it is.
LEVEE: See, I told you! It don’t mean nothing when I say it. You got to wait for Mr. Irvin to say it. Well, I told you the way it is.
CUTLER: Levee, the sooner you understand it ain’t what you say, or what Mr. Irvin say...it’s what Ma say that counts.
SLOW DRAG: Don’t nobody say when it come to Ma. She’s gonna do what she wants to do. Ma says what happens with her.
LEVEE: Hell, the man’s the one putting out the record! He’s gonna put out what he wanna put out!
SLOW DRAG: He’s gonna put out what Ma want him to put out
TOLEDO: See, now...I’ll tell you something. As long as the colored man look to white folks to put the crown on what he say...as long as he looks to white folks for approval...then he ain’t never gonna find out who he is and what he’s about. He’s just gonna be about what white folks want him to be about. That’s one sure thing.
The white man knows you just a leftover. ‘Cause he the one who done the eating and he know what he done ate. But we don’t know that we been took and made history out of. Done went and filled the white man’s belly and now he’s full and tired and wants you to get out the way and let him be by himself. Now, I know what I’m talking about. And if you wanna find out, you just ask Mr. Irvin what he had for supper yesterday. And if he’s an honest white man...which is asking for a whole heap of a lot...he’ll tell you he done ate your black ass and if you please I’m full up with you...so go on and get off the plate and let me eat something else.
IRVIN: Ma, that’s what the people want now. They want something they can dance to. Times are changing. Levee’s arrangement gives the people what they want. It gets them excited…makes them forget about their troubles.
MA RAINEY: I don’t care what you say, Irvin. Levee ain’t messing up my song. If he got what the people want, let him take it somewhere else. I’m singing Ma Rainey’s song. I ain’t singing Levee’s song. Now that’s all there is to it.
MA RAINEY: I’m gonna tell you something, Irvin...and you go on up there and tell Sturdyvant. What you all say don’t count with me. You understand? Ma listens to her heart. Ma listens to the voice inside her. That’s what counts with Ma. Now, you carry my nephew on down there...tell Cutler he’s gonna do the voice intro on that “Black Bottom” song and that Levee ain’t messing up my song with none of his music shit. Now, if that don’t set right with you and Sturdyvant...then I can carry my black bottom on back down South to my tour, ‘cause I don’t like it up here no ways.
CUTLER: You talking out your hat. The man come in here, call you a boy, tell you to get up off your ass and rehearse, and you ain’t had nothing to say to him, except “Yessir!”
LEVEE: I can say “yessir” to whoever I please. What you got to do with it? I know how to handle white folks. I been handling them for thirty-two years, and now you gonna tell me how to do it. Just ‘cause I say “yessir” don’t mean I’m spooked up with him. I know what I’m doing. Let me handle him my way.
My daddy wasn’t spooked up by the white man. Nosir! And that taught me how to handle them. I seen my daddy go up and grin in this cracker’s face...smile in his face and sell him his land. All the while he’s planning how he’s gonna get him and what he’s gonna do to him. That taught me how to handle them. So you all just back up and leave Levee alone about the white man. I can smile and say yessir to whoever I please. I got time coming to me. You all just leave Levee alone about the white man.
MA RAINEY: They don’t care nothing about me. All they want is my voice. Well, I done learned that, and they gonna treat me like I want to be treated no matter how much it hurt them. They back there now calling me all kinds of names…calling me everything but a child of god. But they can’t do nothing else. They ain’t got what they wanted yet. As soon as they get my voice down on them recording machines, then it’s just like if I’d be some whore and they roll over and put their pants on. Ain’t got no use for me then.
MA RAINEY: If you colored and can make them some money, then you all right with them. Otherwise, you just a dog in the alley. I done made this company more money from my records than all the other recording artists they got put together. And they wanna balk about how much this session is costing them.
CUTLER: I done told you about that blasphemy. Taking about selling your soul to the devil.
TOLEDO: We done the same thing, Cutler. There ain’t no difference. We done sold Africa for the price of tomatoes. We done sold ourselves to the white man in order to be like him. Look at the way you dressed...That ain’t African. That’s the white man. We trying to be just like him. We done sold who we are in order to become someone else. We’s imitation white men.
LEVEE: It don’t matter what you talking about. I ain’t no imitation white man. And I don’t want to be no white man. As soon as I get my band together and make them records like Mr. Sturdyvant done told me I can make, I’m gonna be like Ma and tell the white man just what he can do. Ma tell Mr. Irvin she gonna leave...and Mr. Irvin get down on his knees and beg her to stay! That’s the way I’m gonna be! Make the white man respect me!
CUTLER: The white man don’t care nothing about Ma. The colored folks made Ma a star. White folks don’t care nothing about who she is...what kind of music she make.
STURDYVANT: Hey, Ma…come on, sign the forms, huh?
IRVIN: Ma...come on now.
MA RAINEY: Get your coat, Sylvester. Irvin, where’s my car?
IRVIN: It’s right out front, Ma. Here...I got the keys right here. Come on, sign the forms, huh?
MA RAINEY: Irvin, give me my car keys!
IRVIN: Sure, Ma...just sign the forms, huh? (He gives her the keys, expecting a trade-off.)
MA RAINEY: Send them to my address and I’ll get around to them.
IRVIN: Come on, Ma...I took care of everything, right? I straightened everything out.
MA RAINEY: Give me the pen, Irvin.
(She signs the forms.)
You tell Sturdyvant…one more mistake like that and I can make my records someplace else.
STURDYVANT: Well, Levee, I don’t doubt that really. It’s just that...well, I don’t think they’d sell like Ma’s records. But I’ll take them off your hands for you.
LEVEE: The people’s tired of jug-band music, Mr. Sturdyvant. They wants something that’s gonna excite them! They wants something with some fire! I don’t know what fellows you had playing them songs...but if I could play them! I’d set them down in the people’s lap! Now you told me I could record them songs!
STURDYANT: Well, there’s nothing I can do about that. Like I say, it’s five dollars a piece. That’s what I’ll give you. I’m doing you a favor. Now, if you write any more, I’ll help you out and take them off your hands. The price is five dollars apiece. Just like now.
