Outside Hollywood there were few who knew the name Hattie McDaniel, and yet this African-American lady had appeared in no fewer than seventy-four movies: in each and every one she had donned a similar costume, for she always played the housemaid. Over the course of her career she had acted alongside some of the biggest stars around, and many of them remembered her as being a gentle soul, but bitter. Her round cheeks and tender smile gave her a kindly appearance, and yet a cold light shone in her eyes. This was the bitterness of seeing herself pigeonholed and stereotyped, and never being given the chance to break through Hollywood’s glass ceiling. Being black, her talent and her sensitivity carried no importance. “I’d rather play a maid than work as one!” she told her detractors – the people from the civil rights movement who had no idea what she went through, and who did not see the hope she carried with her. It was true that she had worked as a maid during the Great Depression. She had suffered, and known misery, so she knew what she was talking about. In Hollywood she had no other choice but to adapt to the reality. Still, Hattie McDaniel was the pride of many black Americans, for she had managed to make her name in cinema at a time when blacks were still forbidden from sitting beside white people in most public places. There were laws in place to impose the separation of blacks and whites – who would have thought that one day a descendant of slaves would win an Oscar?
The reception room of the Ambassador hotel was bustling for the twelfth annual Academy Awards ceremony. “I heard they nominated a black woman for an Oscar this year? The one who played the maid in Gone With the Wind,” one young starlet grumbled. The crowd was humming as the gossip ran wild; surely this black woman would not actually be attending the Oscars? And surely she could not take a prize from a white actress? Academy Awards for blacks now; such a thing would be an American fiasco. It was impossible, unimaginable even. Clark Gable, who was the lead actor in Gone With the Wind, was a man of principle, and had decided to boycott the ceremony if Hattie McDaniel was not seated with the rest of the cast. His request went unheeded, and the black actress was ordered to wait outside the room. She took this insult on the chin and did not protest. She sat and she waited, though her moment of glory would be forever tainted. She had lost faith in her country. She waited there to be summoned, like an undesirable thing. If she won the Oscar, it would already be a great step forward for African-Americans. And so she waited, outside, alone and humiliated. She hoped, and she prayed. The waiting seemed interminable, until suddenly one of the security guards called to her. Hattie McDaniel walked through the room and climbed the stairs to the stage. There was no applause. They murmured as she passed, but hardly anyone looked at her. Yet she remained strong and dignified, walking like a princess, her chin in the air, for here she was no longer a servant. Here her role was important, legendary, and historic – she was the first black woman to win an Oscar.
The award was handed over solemnly, and she made a speech that would linger in Hollywood memory: “This is one of the happiest moments of my life, and I want to thank each one of you who had a part in selecting me for one of their awards, for your kindness. It has made me feel very, very humble; and I shall always hold it as a beacon for anything that I may be able to do in the future. I sincerely hope I shall always be a credit to my race and to the motion picture industry. My heart is too full to tell you just how I feel, and may I say thank you and God bless you.” For how else might she have concluded? God bless America; America the torn, America the silenced, America segregated. God bless Hollywood and its hypocrisy.
At the age of 57, Hattie McDaniel died from breast cancer. Her last wish was to lie with those she had lived and worked alongside throughout her career, in Hollywood cemetery. Over forty years after her death, a commemorative plaque was unveiled in that graveyard, reserved for the elite of the motion picture industry.
Alan Alfredo Geday