From an early age, probably around 7 or 8, I was drawn to history: African American history. My parents were avid readers whose literary interests spanned multiple genres from science fiction to Shakespeare, from biographies to philosophy, from newspapers to magazines, and even graphic novels. Our home felt like our own library; it felt like books were everywhere. We had at least two sets of encyclopedias. Encyclopedias, the Google of my childhood, fascinated me: knowing that I could go into these books and entertain (and satisfy) my curiosities was an indescribable joy, which consumed hours of my childhood. Among the books that arrested my curiosity and pinned down my attention for an entire summer was the Ebony Pictorial History of Black America: a three volume set; reaching back to African civilization, on to the transatlantic slave trade—where estimates as low as 1 million and as high as 2 million Africans perished on the voyage to the Americas— to the civil rights era.These books and the pictures within shaped my sensitivities, and my perception of race and the world.
From slavery through civil rights, the accounts and pictures in the Ebony Pictorial added weight to my soul. I recall looking at a picture of the 1930 lynching of two black men (Thomas Shipp and Abram Smith) in Marion, Indiana. They were surrounded by a sea of smiling, cheering white faces, some smiling at the camera and others smiling at their lifeless bodies. The effect was felt: in the mind of a little black boy on the southside of Chicago, reading the account and looking at the pictures of those hanging bodies; in that moment, I was afraid. I looked at the white faces. Grinning. Content. Aloof. At that point in my life had I walked into a room of white people I couldn't have felt more trepidation than if I were in a cage of wild dogs, or in the middle of the ocean surrounded by hungry sharks. I saw them as mindless predators—No, for even predators only kill to eat or in defense. These people killed out of a mind numbing, irrational, blinding hate.
I imagine what I felt, next to that lot of confederate flag holders, was but an inkling of the dread generations of Black men who time, location, and circumstance proffered the same frightfully emasculating reality to; they could not protect themselves nor their families. I imagine the fear, the hate, and the anguish that must have flowed through them in them realizing that they were outnumbered, outgunned, and even a moral victory would allude them. As a man, no matter your race or ethnicity, having your ability to protect your family from external threats compromised, compromises your manhood.
To think that for generation after generation, the black man’s physical strength mocked him. His prowess was but a botheration to himself. His marriage was a sham. His progenitorship carrying all the weight of a bull-stud mating with cows; he had been systematically reduced to nothing more than a tool.
My family and I continued to walk the trail, heading back to our car. We continued walking, out of sight of that sea of white, until reaching the main road where we saw a police vehicle parked at the entrance of the lot. Behind the wheel was a black man. I felt a weight lift off me. He looked to be in his early twenties but could pass for a high school senior. I spoke: “Good afternoon, Officer. Can you tell me what’s going on here?” He replied that it was some sort of reenactment. The only thing running through my mind was that they could have put up a sign or something alerting the public to what was taking place. As we emerged out onto the main road, we saw other African American faces whose countenance surely mirrored our own.
The dread. The fear. The anger. Each lies under the surface, unexpectedly raising its head with jaws agape, threatening, exposing teeth which have inflicted centuries of scars, threatening the lives we live today. How far have we come? How much further do we have to go?
I have always found it interesting how white men create environments to protect their assets including neighborhood's, policing officers, laws, businesses, etc. They are going to make sure that the White woman and child have safe havens. We can learn a lot from them but it means nothing if we are not willing to combine our resources and talents
ReplyDeleteTo build a society where our women and children feel safe and protected even when out of our reach.
I have always found it interesting how white men create environments to protect their assets including neighborhood's, policing officers, laws, businesses, etc. They are going to make sure that the White woman and child have safe havens. We can learn a lot from them but it means nothing if we are not willing to combine our resources and talents
ReplyDeleteTo build a society where our women and children feel safe and protected even when out of our reach.