Honoring an American Icon that Invokes Memories of Enslavement
Judith Sroufe

You may not recognize the name Rosa Washington Riles, but you probably recognize Aunt Jemima, the name of the character she portrayed. Riles was born in 1901 in Red Oak, Ohio, a small farming community located 50 miles east of Cincinnati. In her mid-30s, Riles left Red Oak to work for the Quaker Oats Company. Quaker Oats hoped to bolster the public’s interest in their self-rising pancake mix by bringing their trademark to life. During the Depression, major newspapers carried Help Wanted Ads, seeking several dozen attractive black women to dress as Aunt Jemima and travel the nation, giving cooking demonstrations with Quaker Oats’ self-rising pancake mix.

Some of the women who portrayed the “real-life” Aunt Jemima gained national popularity; others, like Rosa Washington Riles, did not. However, it is difficult to find anyone in Red Oak who doesn’t know of Riles. In fact, some older residents remember how she borrowed rides to the city to look for employment. It is likely that one of those trips to the city landed her the job of bringing the Quaker Oats trademark to life.

Mrs. Thelma Snyder, an 89 year-old resident of Red Oak, fondly recalls one of Riles’s return visits to her hometown. It was 1950 and Riles, wearing a red bandanna around her head and a large white apron over her red-checked dress, cooked flapjacks for the Lyons Club Pancake Supper. While she cooked, Riles impressed members of the club with stories about her travels. Mrs. Snyder remembers Riles had a particular fondness for rocking chairs and would often rock infants to sleep after completing her cooking demonstrations.

Red Oak is proud of Rosa Washington Riles; however, the community has recently discovered the complexity of paying tribute to an American icon like Aunt Jemima. For many years, members of the Red Oak Presbyterian Church hosted a pancake breakfast in memory of Riles. This event occurred over Memorial Day weekend and attracted as many as 900 guests to the small community. Volunteers stood for hours flipping pancakes on huge outdoor grills fueled by gas. Many residents looked forward to this event. It provided an opportunity for older folks to gather and reminisce and an opportunity for younger folks to learn about Red Oak’s history. In 1993, to the disappointment of many residents, the church stopped hosting the annual pancake breakfast. According to Mrs. Ruth Salisbury, a lifetime resident of Red Oak and promoter of the annual event, a local gas company refused to supply the church with fuel due to deteriorating cooking equipment. But this may not have been the only reason for discontinuing the pancake breakfast.

The year before, a writer for the Cleveland Plain Dealer attended the annual pancake breakfast. Mrs. Salisbury remembers how proud the organizers were that this stranger from Cleveland took an interest in their efforts to honor Riles. To her surprise, the writer’s subsequent newspaper article criticized Red Oak Presbyterian Church for profiting from Riles’s notoriety and declared that the church perpetuated a historical stereotype that insults African-American women. Mrs. Salisbury ardently claims the church had no interest in profiting from the breakfasts–“only enough to help fix up the graveyard.” Crystal Salisbury helped her mother organize the annual pancake breakfasts and adds that typically the church just broke even. She further claims that the church never intentionally perpetuated a stereotypical image; in fact, she says that such intentions would betray Red Oak Presbyterian Church’s rich history of integrationist activity.

Established in 1798, the picturesque church is situated among 200-year-old oak and sycamore trees. These days the church door, cinched with an old-time brass skeleton key, is only open for Sunday morning services. However, in the late 1700’s, this door was open year-round. Historical records mention Red Oak Presbyterian Church's involvement in the Underground Railroad movement and for over 100 years the church’s congregation has included whites as well as blacks.

As well, the church’s adjacent cemetery includes markers bearing the family names of those descending from formerly enslaved persons who settled around Red Oak. Rosa Washington Riles is buried there. For over 25 years, simple copper pipes marked her grave. A piece of metal dangled from the piping and adhesive letters formed the name “Aunt Jemima.” Six years ago, using the meager profits from its annual pancake breakfast, this community purchased a brown marble headstone for Riles's grave. The unaffected piping remained until just recently.

One African American resident of nearby Ripley, Ohio, who does not wish to be named, has supported Red Oak's efforts to honor Riles. Disagreeing with the argument that Red Oak Presbyterian Church perpetuated a stereotypical image, he claims “people make too much out of race. It was hard for blacks to get a job back in those days and Riles persevered.”

For others, race is at issue whenever Aunt Jemima or other historical black images are discussed. In Aunt Jemima, Uncle Ben, and Rastus: Blacks in Advertising, Yesterday, Today, and Tomorrow, Marilyn Kern-Foxworth takes a critical look at how blacks have been portrayed in advertising. She notes that Aunt Jemima personified the stereotypical image of the enslaved female: “extremely overweight” and “very dark-skinned” with “broad features.” Kern-Foxworth argues that not only were these physical attributes “totally the opposite of how white America traditionally defined beauty” but also the trademark is clearly connected to slavery and whites’ historical valuation of African Americans as servants, only. Additionally, Kern-Foxworth writes that the Aunt Jemima image is stifling to African Americans because, until recently, it was nearly the only non-white woman ever seen in mainstream media.

In Brands, Trademarks and Good Will, a book detailing the history of the Quaker Oats Company, the author, Arthur Marquette, states that the “southern mammy” was indeed the image sought for Aunt Jemima in the early years. This advertising scheme was part of a tradition that dated back to the early days of the company when Nancy Green, an African-American woman from Montgomery County, Kentucky, greeted guests dressed as Aunt Jemima at the Chicago World’s Fair of 1893. For 30 years Green embodied the legend of Aunt Jemima: an enslaved woman who, even after the end of the Civil War, remained loyal to her master until his death. Destitute and desperate, as the tale was told, Aunt Jemima then traveled north to sell her self-rising flapjack mix. Green added to the legend by creating dramatic narratives about her life in the South. As a result of Green's marked performance, sales soared. After Green's death in 1923, Quaker Oats experienced a slump in sales that lasted until the company revived the trademark ten years later with women like Riles.

For Quaker Oats, Aunt Jemima symbolized “southern hospitality” and the “acme of the culinary art” during a period when white women were seeking other interests. Thus, Marquette continues, Aunt Jemima became a symbol for “the emancipation of the American [white] housewife from the drudgery of virtual slavery in her kitchen.”

Even in the early days of Quaker Oats’ campaign, some consumers considered the Aunt Jemima image an affront to African-American womanhood. Kern-Foxworth references a survey conducted in 1920 that indicated overwhelming disapproval, among African Americans, of the portrayal of Aunt Jemima in the company’s advertisements. Years later, during the Civil Rights Movement, Murray DePillars’ artistic reaction to Aunt Jemima demonstrated fervent opposition to the trademark. It wasn’t until the 1980s, when Quaker Oats finally succumbed to pressure by African Americans, that Aunt Jemima was “modernized.” The 1989 trademark wears a pair of pearl earrings instead of a bandanna.

According to Red Oak’s Mrs. Snyder, the new trademark isn’t the image of the “real Aunt Jemima.” For her, the “real” Aunt Jemima is embodied in the memory of Rosa Washington Riles, flipping pancakes, telling stories, and rocking infants to sleep. However, a Quaker Oats Company spokesperson recently claimed the name, Rosa Washington Riles, “doesn’t even ring a bell.” For them, the legacy of Aunt Jemima is best captured by its “Women of Wonder Awards.” Since 1993, the company has partnered with the National Council of Negro Women to award an annual total of $20,000 to black female community leaders.

Although Red Oak Presbyterian Church no longer hosts a pancake breakfast in Riles’s memory, they continue to honor the character epitomized by their most famous resident. Located in the church’s timeworn foyer is a large display case exhibiting photographs, original boxes of pancake mix, syrup pitchers, dolls, salt and pepper shakers, and other artifacts that evoke the Aunt Jemima of old. Hanging on the wall beside them is a large oil painting of Riles, created and donated by a California artist who had enjoyed one of the church’s early pancake breakfasts.

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