Why is the Devil a Black Man, Always?

Dan Williams

August 29, 2021

Why is the devil a Black Man, always?

in thousands of references, in demonology 

tracts scribbled by zealous monks, all white,

all attacking heresy, rebellion against God,

Christ the Prince of Light contending against

“the Power of Darkness,” in countless sad

stories accusing women of witchcraft,


the accused, time and again, tortured 

to confess, in intense agony, confessing 

to stop the torment, confessing they consorted 

with a Black Man, signing his book, dancing

wildly—at what, of course—Black Sabbaths, 

offering fealty to their dark lord, the anal kiss,

infernal, painful coupling, the devil’s two-


pronged phallus, the Salem narratives, sunless

texts, offer scores of examples, the devil 

“appearing ordinarily as a small Black man,” 

witchcraft the “Work of Darkness,” “a dark

subject,” “the devil improves the Darkness,” 

“Dark things now in America,” “in the shape 

of a Black Man,” “the Black Man whispered 


to her,” “she did ride by the Meeting house,

 behind the Black Man,” “by the assistance 

of the Black Man,” “the giant Black Man came 

to her,” “She looks upon a black man,” “the Black 

Man (as the witches call the Devil),” “a black thing 

with a blue Cap,” blackness ever iniquitous,

yes, of course, antithetical polarities, sightless 


oppositions of light and dark, good and evil, 

godly and pagan, celestial radiance preordained 

to crush the black hand, wickedness void of  

divine illumination, an omnipotent God allowing 

the Prince of Darkness, humanity’s scourge, those 

early Christians, fervent believers, comprehending 

only dualisms, a simplistic schematic to explain


the inexplicable, to account for misery, the Great

Chain of Being, white on top, black the bottom, 

God created differences, high and low, fortune 

and misfortune, and humans needed distinctions, 

the othering of the alien, us and them, yet a bigotry 

virulent and venomous, misperceiving a world 

split into black and white, without any gray.


Dan Williams is the Director of TCU Press and the TCU Honors Professor of Humanities. His second collection of poems, At the Gate, A Refuge of Sunflowers and Milkweed, is forthcoming from Lamar University Literary Press.

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