This chapter argues that gazing upon a body as a blackface or yellowface or whiteface is to see race twice, to note the very obvious exterior facade and the supposedly just as obvious subterranean reality. There is no subtlety, no obliqueness, in such masquerades. To lead the eye to this perverse second sight, such a masquerade requires significantly more than a simple color change: it demands an attention to the wretched detail on two levels at once. The men face each other. Both wear blackfaces. Their skin tone is identical, but nothing else is. One stands erect, with pitch-perfect posture, and stares manfully at his partner. The first figure has a mouth set in a tight grimace, a burning cigar tucked in the corner. There is something slightly off in his comportment. His hat is one size too small, his vest and pants are just slightly too colorful, and his corsage seems three times too large.
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