That Racist Ice Cream Truck Jingle

Let's Ban That Insidious Song Once and For All

Anti-Black racism is America’s original sin. I don’t just believe it, I know it, in the fullness of my soul. I know it from the experience of having Black friends; of observing and reading about American history for the span of my entire life; and I know it when confronted with the news — daily — in every city and every state that make up our nation.

I believe there should be a Truth and Reconciliation Commission (thank you Ta-Nehisi Coates) to deal once and for all with the ongoing rot of slavery’s legacy that has eaten away at the idea of America since 1619. I believe that America will never fully be America until such a time when a Truth and Reconciliation Commission meets, deliberates, and begins the painful but absolutely necessary process of substantially addressing the stain of this evil legacy that lies at the founding ideals of the United States of America.

I know that this must happen. I know that it will not happen for quite some time. But I hope and pray that when it comes time to meet God when I die (and the God I believe can’t NOT ask this question) God will demand to know from me what part I played in addressing this grievous sin. I’ll say, “I voted. I marched. I read. I taught. I scrubbed my own soul. I supported individuals and organizations that sought to eradicate racism.” I hope to one day also say, “I helped build a Freedom Trail in New York City that commemorates anti-slavery societies, abolitionism, and civil rights.”

And I hope to also say that once I learned the real story about that the annoying little jingle that blares from New York City ice cream trucks during our warmer months, I tried to do my part to get rid of it. February brings Spring Training and the start of baseball season. March is the first month of Spring. It may seem too soon to talk about ice cream on the street but you know, it’s not.

Have you heard the jingle? Of course you have. It’s a disgusting remnant from America’s minstrel past, a little melody set to the words, “N-word Loves a Watermelon.” That’s right. Thousands of children a day running after the elixir of a normalized and delicious racism. A dripping, sticky stain.

Back in 2014, former White House Fellow Theodore Johnson III wrote about the song for NPR. I read it in disbelief and in all subsequent years, was always shocked to discover that from some inexplicable reason, we New Yorkers continued to tolerate this grotesque anthem to lure children into the trap of passive, racist indoctrination. I mean, once you know, how can you just sit there and let it continue? It seems to me that this would be an easy get.

Johnson helpfully points out the melody has its origins in England, Scotland and Ireland. That it was likely first known as “Turkey in the Straw” and “The Old Rose Tree,” but was transmogrified into a minstrel mainstay by way of “Zip Coon” lyrics, Zip Coon being the urban antebellum counterpart to the rural, bumbling Jim Crow. Zip Coon, Jim Crow, Amos ‘n’ Andy — and on and on. Racism as entertainment. And racism as wholesome and American as an ice cream truck on a city street corner on a warm summer day. It’s truly disgusting.

So here’s what I just did and you can do it too.

Write to the New York State Department of Motor Vehicles, which regulates these trucks, and let them know what you think! It’s a simple link to their “ask a question” page on their website. NYS DMV Commissioner is Mark Schroeder. Here is how you can contact Mark. Similarly, you can also write to the New York City Department of Health which oversees these trucks locally. It’s very easy to lodge a complaint. It took me one minute. NYC Health Commissioner is Dr. Ashwin Vasan, who I often hear on WNYC’s Brian Lehrer Show. He strikes me as very open to this kind of public outcry. You can Tweet to the Commish if you’re so inclined.

You can choose NOT to buy ice cream from the truck owners (who anecdotally don’t always know the origin of the song they play but if they do? Wow. No excuses.) And finally, when you walk up to such a truck this coming Spring and Summer, let the owner know how you feel. Have a conversation. Engage in civic activism at this easy level. Use your voice to educate your fellow citizen. And if they refuse to listen and drive away blaring their racism into our unwilling ears, go buy your ice cream elsewhere.

It’s not earth-shattering, heavens opening, transformational leadership. It’s a small act, true; but it’s how racism is dismantled: one brick, one cup, one cone at a time.