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This play is inspired by the real town of Sandbranch, TX located 40 miles south of Dallas, TX. 

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This play is inspired by the real town of Sandbranch, TX located 40 miles south of Dallas, TX. 

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This play is inspired by the real town of Sandbranch, TX located 40 miles south of Dallas, TX. A former Freedman's settlement, Sandbranch is the last unincorporated area in Dallas County and does not currently have access to municipal services like water. In the past, the area has depended heavily on natural wells, but as the City of Dallas grows, the wells are becoming more and more polluted. Because Sandbranch is located on a flood plane, the City of Dallas refuses to annex the community. What used to be a community of hundreds, is now a community of dozens.

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In its 142-year history, the town of Sandbranch, Texas, has seen many births and deaths. Today, this unincorporated village outside Dallas is attempting a long overdue rebirth — but residents here, devoted to their community but envisioning a safer, cleaner, and more flourishing version of it — don’t look forward without looking back.

In 1878, an intrepid group of people from Louisiana — newly emancipated from slavery — traveled to Texas seeking a place to settle. Together, they bought a parcel of land and built a homestead. They wanted to provide financial security and opportunity for themselves, and for their descendants. At its peak, Sandbranch — the only unincorporated settlement in Dallas county, and its most impoverished area — was home to about 400 residents. Today, one hundred residents remain.

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Honoring the Legacy of Sandbranch: Yesterday and Today

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In its 142-year history, the town of Sandbranch, Texas, has seen many births and deaths. Today, this unincorporated village outside Dallas is attempting a long overdue rebirth — but residents here, devoted to their community but envisioning a safer, cleaner, and more flourishing version of it — don’t look forward without looking back.

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Sandbranch residents lose historic community center to fire

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This Texas Town Hasn’t Had Running Water In Its 142 Year History

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Derek Avery Says He Will Finally Bring Running Water to Dallas County’s Sandbranch

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Sandbranch has been without clean water for decades. Now, a candidate for Dallas County’s District 3 commissioner seat says he’s going to change that.

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Stoking additional fears, Dallas constructed a wastewater plant on the border of town in 1967. It has openly admitted that part of their process requires dumping waste solids (known as sludge cake) into the ground after extracting all water from the waste. There is belief by some town advocates that this is partly to blame for the contaminated groundwater. The city denies all wrongdoing and the plant remains in operation today. In addition, surrounding industries have been caught dumping illegally within town limits, prompting county officials to install cameras on the perimeter to try and catch perpetrators. Tire dumping is common there which has also been suspected in ground contamination.

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The Curious Case of Sand Branch - PhMuseum

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Only 15 miles southeast of downtown Dallas, Texas sits a small ex-Freedman’s town named Sand Branch. Founded in the 1880’s by former slaves it is a remnant of the past still grasping for recognition and basic rights. For decades the residents have survived without clean running water, sewage or trash services. There are also no emergency services, schools or grocery stores. Situated in Dallas County, it has been denied incorporation for decades due to the steep fees associated with that process. Dallas city government has also refused to annex the town. Sand Branch currently has a population of 60 remaining, with 5 children residing.

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It's a sweltering Saturday in October and Pastor Eugene Keahey is becoming agitated. His flock live in a Texas town that hasn't had running water in 30 years and the donated bottled water they rely upon is in short supply.

"We got six cases of water from a donor but two have already gone in the last hour," said Keahey, eyeing the line of people waiting for their weekly handout of food and water from the Mount Zion Baptist church in Sandbranch, a largely African American community that lies 20 minutes and a world away from Dallas.

Recent hurricanes in Texas and Florida have diverted the attention of non-profits away from the sisyphean struggle endured in Sandbranch. "I'm going to have to come up with a plan, get on Facebook and beg or borrow water from somewhere," said Keahey.

"People come for donations from outside the town and it's difficult to say, 'No you can't get water because you've got running water at home.' My test is to say 'What do you do with the bottled water?' If they just say they drink it, I have to say no because people here shower, brush their teeth with it, everything."

environmental justice

Keahey, a stout man with a greying beard and half-moon glasses, rubbed his face. "This is a full-time job. It's not part time. Water is like gold here."

Sandbranch has no water pipes, sewerage, trash collection or street lights. In an added dash of irony, the sprawling Dallas Southside water treatment plant is situated about 10 yards from Sandbranch, its rusting barbed wire fence running along the northern boundary of the town.

The slow, dry decay of Sandbranch is startling but little known even among the Dallasites who neighbor this crumbling enclave that extends off a quiet stretch of looping highway to the south of the metropolis. The population once stood at more than 500, dwindled to less than 100 by 2010 but has anecdotally rebounded with some newcomers attracted by the cheap land.

"Everyone around us has water but not here," said Detra Newhouse, a 46-year-old who grew up in Sandbranch with her grandparents. "For a while people didn't even bathe. Some still don't. There's a man who lives nearby and I don't think he's had a proper bath in 20 years.

"We are a dirty little secret no one wants to talk about. I was listening to MSNBC talk about Flint, Michigan, the other day and what is happening there is unconscionable. But I thought, 'Yeah, and what about us? What about us?'"

Many residents are at a loss as to why they have been forgotten. Officially, Sandbranch's woes stem from being small, unincorporated and situated on a floodplain area that restricts new development.

But the fact that low-income minority areas in the US are often blighted by environmental problems, whether it's tainted water or toxic air from nearby industrial plants, is well understood here. Sandbranch is a jarring example of environmental injustices that have pockmarked the US for decades.

"We don't have water here and you know why?" asked Ivory Hall, a spry 83-year-old black man who deftly slaps my arm as he makes his point. "The pigment of my skin. If I were white like you I bet they'd have water down here."

Newhouse easily draws upon fonder Sandbranch memories; of collecting eggs from the chickens at the back of the house, hanging upside down in trees, getting penny candies from the corner store, playing in the then unpaved streets with other children until the dark finally forced them indoors.

There was a well at her grandparent's house and the children would press their mouths to the nozzle of the pump and gleefully guzzle the water. "It was so refreshing and it was so cool," Newhouse said. "I had the best childhood ever."

By the mid-1980s, Newhouse had moved in with her parents in Dallas and noticed a difference in the well water when she visited Sandbranch. The liquid was brown, laced with sand. It emitted a nauseating smell.

"I got used to being able to fill up a cup of water and drink it but then I'd go to Sandbranch and have to stop and think, 'I can't do that - I could die,'" she said.

Later, as an adult, Newhouse's job required trips to India, where it became clear she had diverged from the American norm. "Places like Mumbai, Hyderabad, Bangalore - you wouldn't dare drink the water there," she said. "I thought, 'Dang, we are living like India. I'm living like an Indian woman.'"

Sandbranch is an unincorporated town - an area not serviced by a municipality - that Dallas County dates back to 1940, although in previous decades properties were established by African Americans lured by cheap land and the opportunity to elude the various indignities inflicted by the white bastion of Dallas.

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The Southside wastewater treatment plant in Dallas, borders Sandbranch but residents derive no benefit from it. Photograph: Stewart F House

Water pipes were never installed and, like some other unincorporated places, the lack of trash collection means residents have to surreptitiously burn their garbage or take it to relatives in the city. These were tolerable quirks when Sandbranch had a supply of clean groundwater but the wells are now tainted and now either rot or are sparingly used for washing a car or, for those prepared to risk it, a bracing shower.

Testing in the 1980s and early 1990s confirmed bacterial contamination of the water. The Sandbranch populace points the finger at gravel mining that has scarred the fringes of the town. Dallas County can't be sure of the culprit but suggests the widespread keeping of hogs, now banned, created rivers of waste that poisoned the water table.

Whatever the cause, the pollution forced residents to trek several miles to buy bottled water or fill up jugs at relatives' houses. As poverty has tightened its grip on Sandbranch - the average monthly income is now $720 - most people cannot afford to buy an endless supply of bottled water and now lean heavily on the church's donations.

Richard Shivers, a white 59-year-old man who walks with a slight limp, bought a parcel of land last year for a few thousand dollars and moved his trailer to live there with his wife Rachel Garcia and a menagerie of animals, including at least a dozen dogs and cats, a couple of pigs, five donkeys and a brood of chickens.

Shivers pays a neighbor $50 a month to use his pump to fill five barrels with water, which he transports back in a sagging van, found next to two other dilapidated vehicles on the land, a former hog farm. He said he not only showers in the water, but also drinks it.

"Some people don't understand how we do it, but I know how to survive," he said, scooping fetid water from one of the barrels with a grimy hand and offering it to me. "It's clean. Taste it. I'm serious - taste it." The Guardian declines the offer.

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Richard Shivers, 59, drinks the well water he collects in plastic barrels on his lot in Sandbranch. Photograph: Stewart F House

Mount Zion Baptist church is a modest but tidy place of worship with a pitched roof and one of the few functional toilets in Sandbranch. It has a 325-gallon water tank outside for donated water and on Saturdays is transformed into a sort of community triage center, distributing foodstuffs while volunteer nurses from the Texas Woman's University gather around a fold-out table to offer free blood pressure checks.

"It's a unique environment," said Keahey, who gave up a rather more comfortable pastorship in Dallas to grapple with Sandbranch's stubborn maladies. His wife was raised in Flint. "We are the water crisis family," he said with a chuckle. "You don't really expect to see these living conditions next to one of America's wealthiest cities."

Sandbranch has never been financially viable enough for the city of Dallas to subsume and provide water and, in any case, the town sits on a floodplain which, since the 1970s, has pinioned it with federal rules that limit development.

The oldest houses have been grandfathered but no new properties are allowed unless they can be elevated on stilts above the flood risk level, to around 10ft. Sandbranch doesn't have the heft of city services, and the freewheeling nature of being unincorporated is nullified by the federal floodplain rules that limit its growth and therefore tax base. It's a bind that acted as a slowly tightening ligature around the town for decades.

"We looked at it and thought something could be done but it's a Rubik's cube and we haven't been able to line up all the colors on one side," said Rick Loessberg, who has been planning director at Dallas County for the past 20 years.

The county provides roads, signage and law enforcement but doesn't provide water infrastructure. Loessberg said the county looked at creating a new water utility for Sandbranch the 1990s but no one in the town wanted to run it. The well water can't be cleansed of its pollution. And the county doesn't see its role as paying for bottled water. Sandbranch's decline may now be irreversible.

"We tried to get them water but with the cost involved and a declining population was it good policy to spend millions of public dollars for 88 people?" Loessberg said. "With the community in the floodplain it's unlikely there will be new development so there will be no new houses to share the cost of it.

"Whenever you see poverty in a country as prosperous as ours, it's disconcerting. We like to think we are better than that. I wish we could wave a magic wand, but it's tricky. It's complicated."

Wandering around Sandbranch feels a little like stepping into a historical re-enactment with a few modern flourishes. About half of the town's houses have been torn down or left to ruin, either due to the intervention of Fema, the federal disaster agency, or a Dallas County initiative where residents were offered a small amount of money to leave.

The former five and dime store, once a mobile home, has tilted on to an angle with a gaping maw on one side where the rot has set in. The corner store has also gone, as well as the community center, now wreathed in weeds.

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The ruin of a mobile home that once aspired to be a five and dime store in Sandbranch. Photograph: Stewart F House

The lost properties have left behind vacant spaces filled with knots of weeds, grass and trash next to the remaining structures, which are mainly ageing wood-framed houses daubed in white that can only be patched up, not materially improved, under the Fema floodplain rules.

The verdant vegetation is slowly enveloping the town, adding a bucolic feel to the decay. There is little noise apart from the continual crackle of gunshots from a firing range that was placed right next to Sandbranch.

Keahey has provided an injection of optimism since becoming Sandbranch's pastor in 2013. He has spearheaded a group that has pulled together the US Environmental Protection Agency and the US Department of Agriculture, with a view to obtaining grants to put in pipes and then buying water from the city of Dallas.

Should the byzantine bureaucracy work in his favor, Keahey believes Sandbranch's long drought could end as early as next year. In total it may cost $6m, perhaps more.

"It's realistic, it's a real thing, we are excited," he said. "If we get the permits and all that, it could happen next year. Once people get water to the lots, they will come back."

Others are more skeptical. "We wish them the best but it's a very complicated process," said Loessberg. "It might even end up cheaper buying bottled water than paying a monthly water bill to the city. It'll be difficult. You see where the long-term population trend is. You can see which way it's going."

It may be practical for the county for Sandbranch simply to cease, for its remaining residents to find somewhere else to live where there are jobs and running water and a Tuesday night garbage collection on illuminated streets. But communities put down hardy roots that often weather the most extreme adversity.

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A bottle of Sandbranch well water with sediment at the bottom. Photograph: Stewart F House

"If we get water I'll be down here like a shot because why should I pay a mortgage where I am in Dallas when I have a house here?" said Newhouse. "I think the county is waiting for everyone to die out here so they can redevelop all of this, so they can dig for their precious gravel. I don't think that will happen. All we are asking for is a water bill."

It's Sunday and the good people of Sandbranch are neatly dressed and ambling into the church. Two dozen souls fan themselves in the pews as the gospel choir finds its voice and Keahey provides some spiritual perspective.

"We don't have creature comforts and amenities here but we have your love, God," he bellows into a microphone, prompting several people to stand and shout, "Say it pastor!" The choir launches into I Will Trust in the Lord and does a job that wouldn't disgrace Aretha Franklin.

There's no shortage of takers for the precious liquid. The two gallons go to Alvin Wayne, who escorts me and the water to his weatherboard house, shuffling on his cane. "Is that all you got?" Wayne, who has completely run out of water, asked.

The latest scheme to lay water pipes leaves Wayne naturally skeptical. He has lived in Sandbranch since 1963 and he's heard it all before. But cynicism doesn't seem to be able to flourish here, in this friendly forgotten corner of Texas where everyone waves at you as you pass by.

"I've heard about that plan," Wayne said. "I hope I live long enough to see it happen."

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'America's dirty little secret': the Texas town that has been without running water for decades

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It's a sweltering Saturday in October and Pastor Eugene Keahey is becoming agitated. His flock live in a Texas town that hasn't had running water in 30 years and the donated bottled water they rely upon is in short supply.

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Sand Branch, Dallas County, Texas - Wikipedia

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Mt. Zion MBC of Sandbranch - Mission and Vision

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Governor of Arkansas is interviewed on Brown V. Board of Education and equates the issue to states rights and law and order- rather than admitting the issue of racism

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Governor of Arkansas is interviewed on Brown V. Board of Education and equates the issue to states rights and law and order- rather than admitting the issue of racism

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Williams: Since the SC segregation decisions in 1954, you have become the central figure in the most serious constitutional crisis that has arisen since the war for southern independence. What is the real issue in this controversy?

Faubus: Well, Congressman Williams, the real and basic issue is very often submerged with what we sometimes term the extraneous matter. The real basic issue is the separation
of powers as set up by the founding fathers and continued on to the present time. The real issue is the usurpation of powers reserved to the states by the federal government without going through the proper processes of amendment of the constitution. You find it very clearly illustrated in the writings of Jefferson which I’ve quoted quite extensively since the controversy arose. The real usurpation, of course, has been by the United States Supreme Court without any basis for the assumption of that power. Not only in the field
which has always been reserved to the states, the field of education, but in other fields the Supreme Court has stepped in. ... And writing to me recently was a person who wrote thusly, ‘It has been said that it is not so much the separation of the races as the continued separation of powers, federal, state and local, which guarantees the liberty of all races. And that I think, Congressman Williams, is the central issue in this whole conflict. It is not confined to Arkansas, it is not confined to the South, you find it in many fields throughout the nation.

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17min 34sec, 7 1/2 IPS, Higher recording level; moderate hiss; slight distortion. Good Condition.

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Audio clips of what White citizens and members of Citizens Councils had to say about integration, specifically in schools.

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The Citizens' Council, founded in Indianola, Mississippi in 1954 following the Brown v. Board decision, was very powerful in working to maintain segregation in Mississippi. The Citizens' Council radio Forum ran from 1957-1966 and features dozens of national and Mississippi politicians, including John Stennis, James Eastland, George Wallace, and Strom Thurmond, and covers topics ranging from reaction to the Civil Rights Act to the fear of Communism. Mississippi State University Libraries is the only repository who has the complete run of the Forum; thanks to a $25,000 Recordings at Risk grant from the Council on Library and Information Resources, the original open reel magnetic audio tapes were digitized by the Northeast Document Conservation Center and are now available to researchers.

Digital Audio
10th anniversary of Supreme Court decision in Brown vs. Board of education. 1954--Supreme Court decision. 1957 Civil Rights Act and related court cases. 1957 Civil Rights Act--court decisions. 1964 fall term of U.S. Supreme Court. 2 most important issues before Senate--Civil Rights act and Bible reading and prayer in public schools. 5th Circuit Court of Appeals--cases on integration New Orleans schools,transportation systems, public schools. Address to Mississippi legislature--our present military situation in Vietnam and future. Anti-riot bill. Assassination of President Kennedy and Lee Harvey Oswald. August 28 march on Washington. A woman's viewpoint on the issues of the South. Balanced budget. Bill to create a commission on human resettlement. Bill to create a commission on human resettlement. Bill to curb powers of Supreme Court. Biology of the race problem. California views on Little Rock and Supreme Court decisions. Centralization of power, trends against. Circuit riders, inc. Citizens' Council survey of Jackson, Mississippi. Citizens' Council survey of Jackson, Mississippi. Civil defense program--church implications. Civil Rights act. Civil Rights act of 1963. Civil Rights bill. Civil Rights bill. Civil Rights bill. Civil Rights bills. Civil Rights bills. Civil Rights bills. Civil Rights bills. Civil Rights bills. Civil Rights demonstrations. Civil Rights legislation. Civil Rights legislation. Civil Rights legislation. Civil Rights legislation. Civil Rights legislation. Civil Rights Legislation and the Constitution. Civil Rights legislation--views of Hawaii Civil Rights proposal. Civil Rights proposal. Civil Rights workers in Mississippi. College loyalty oaths. Commentary on socialist activities of the school. Comments on the outcome of the Presidential election. Committee on Un-American Activities and its functions. Also William Colmer, John Bell Williams, Jamie Whitten. Communism and Civil Rights. Communism and the Civil Rights movement. Communism in the U.S. and Fulbright Memorandum Communism on the map. Communist agitation and riot tactics in the U.S. Communist exploitation of the churches in the U.S. Communist infiltration in Vietnam protest movement and Civil Rights movement. Communist influence behind the racial demonstrations and Civil Rights movement-recent development. Communist involvement in Civil Rights movement. Communists in racial incidents. Communist threat of U.S. muzzling the military--Fulbright Memorandum. Communist threat to U.S. Communist use of churches--nation council of churches of Christ in America. Concern over civil rights bill-involvement of communism with the civil rights movement. Connections between freedom riders and Cuba. Conservative trend on college campuses. Constitutional government and states rights. Constitutional Rights--Civil Rights Crisis in Rhodesia. Cuban crisis-Florida viewpoint. Also economic and military aspects. Cuban military build-up. Cuban situation. Cuban situation. Cuban situation--U.S. policies and the Factors for Castro Committee. Cuban situation--variance in intelligence reports. Current crisis in race relations--Harlem, Rochester,etc. Current Status of schools in Alabama. Deficit spending. Demonstration before the march from Selma to Montogomery--affadavits presented to congress. Demonstrations in Selma. Doctrine of interposition enacted by Barnett at Ole Miss. Education in D.C. Education work of the Citizens' Council. Effect of agitation on southern political opinion. Effect of Civil Rights legislation on business, especially in the South. Effect of Civil Rights on the presidential election. Effect of Kennedy sending federal troops into Ole Miss in future national elections. Effects of Civil Rights act on average American. Effects of Civil Rights legislation on South in the 1960 election. Executive order on discrimination in housing. Extent of communist exploitation of the churches. Factors affecting internal security. Farm Problem. Federal aid to education. Federal Civil Rights commission. Federal Government forcing school integration. Federal intervention in Mississippi affairs. Forceable integration of public schools. Foreign aid. Freedom Academy. Freedom of choice in education.

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Citizens' Council Radio Forum | Manuscripts Division | Mississippi State University

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The Citizens' Council, founded in Indianola, Mississippi in 1954 following the Brown v. Board decision, was very powerful in working to maintain segregation in Mississippi. The Citizens' Council radio Forum ran from 1957-1966 and features dozens of national and Mississippi politicians, including John Stennis, James Eastland, George Wallace, and Strom Thurmond, and covers topics ranging from reaction to the Civil Rights Act to the fear of Communism.

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Overview of White Citizens' Councils- PBS

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Overview of White Citizens' Councils- PBS

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The Murder of Emmett Till | Article

White Citizens' Councils

The Brown v Board of Education decision was a watershed moment in American history. On May 17, 1954, in an unprecedented decision, the Supreme Court abolished legal school segregation. Blacks hailed the decision. Whites in the Deep South called the day "Black Monday." Some white Southerners channeled their ire into a new movement called Citizens' Councils - organizations of white segregationists and supremacists who opposed integration and the Supreme Court decision.

Harold P. Boulware, Thurgood Marshall, and Spottswood W. Robinson III confer at the Supreme Court prior to presenting arguments against segregation in schools during Brown v. Board of Education case, 1953. Courtesy: Library of Congress

Racist Ideology
The movement, led by Mississippi Circuit Court Judge Tom P. Brady, grew to encompass virtually the state's entire white business class. Council members published a book entitled Black Monday which outlined their simple beliefs: African Americans were inferior to whites and the races must remain separate. "If in one mighty voice we do not protest this travesty on justice, we might as well surrender," Brady wrote.

The "Uptown Klan"
The first Citizens' Council meeting was convened two months after the Brown v. Board of Education decision in a living room in Indianola, the heart of the Mississippi Delta. Soon hundreds of chapters with thousands of members spread like wildfire across the South. Members would meet regularly in living rooms and send in donations. The group even had weekly TV and radio programs, and states would sponsor promotional films spotlighting the benefits of segregation. The Councils' view of themselves as a cut above the violent tactics of the Ku Klux Klan gained them the title "uptown Klan."

Spying and Intimidation
The councils picked up momentum and legitimacy in 1956 when the Mississippi legislature formed the State Sovereignty Commission. The Sovereignty Commission contributed funds to the Citizens' Councils and formed a covert network that tracked blacks and whites. Blacks in favor of integration or seen trying to register black voters would lose their jobs, their homes, even their lives. White businessmen would face boycotts and politicians would lose votes if they were believed to be sympathetic to African Americans' efforts at integration.

Violence
The Citizens' Councils claimed they did not sanction violence, but the venom spouted at their meetings and from their leaders, particularly Mississippi's segregationist senator and plantation owner James O. Eastland, fostered a violent, reactionary climate where punishment against blacks was sanctioned.

The Councils' grip on Mississippi was effective. By 1956, they claimed a membership of 80,000. Schools remained overwhelmingly segregated and black voter registration drives were thwarted. In 1959 the Councils played a crucial role in electing staunch segregationist Ross Barnett to the Governor's office.

The Councils' Legacy
Today the Council of Conservative Citizens carries the torch of the Citizens' Councils. "Promoting the interests of European Americans," the anti-civil rights and anti-immigrant group advocates for its ideas in chapters throughout the South.

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White Citizens' Councils | American Experience | PBS

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The Murder of Emmett Till | Article The Brown v Board of Education decision was a watershed moment in American history. On May 17, 1954, in an unprecedented decision, the Supreme Court abolished legal school segregation. Blacks hailed the decision. Whites in the Deep South called the day "Black Monday."

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Racism In America- Short Documentary from 1950

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Racism In America- Short Documentary from 1950

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This video features interviews with average White people responding to integration.

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Racism in America: Small Town 1950s Case Study Documentary Film

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A look at the positive effects of school integration and the lengths people will go to prevent it from happening. CW: This story begins with the murder of Michael Brown

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Norman Rockwell's "The Problem We All Live With," depicting Ruby Bridges, the first Black child to attend an all white elementary school in the South.

Artwork approved by The Norman Rockwell Family Agency.

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Ira speaks with New York Times Magazine Reporter Nikole Hannah-Jones about her years reporting on education and the various kinds of school reforms administrators have tried to close the achievement gap that never seem to work. Nikole says there's one reform that people have pretty much given up on, despite a lot of evidence that it works - school integration. (11 minutes)

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We spent five months at a high school in Chicago where in the last year 29 current and recent students were shot.

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The Problem We All Live With - Part One - This American Life

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There's one thing that has been proven to cut the achievement gap between black and white students by half: integration.

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Zora Neale Hurston and the Brown Debate: Race, Class, and the Progressive Empire

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Zora Neale Hurston and the Brown Debate: Race, Class, and the Progressive Empire

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Court Order Can't Make Races Mix by Zora Neale Hurston

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Court Order Can't Make Races Mix by Zora Neale Hurston

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Welcome back to Instagram. Sign in to check out what your friends, family & interests have been capturing & sharing around the world.

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Black Performance Theory by Thomas DeFrantz and Anita Gonzalez

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Black Performance Theory by Thomas DeFrantz and Anita Gonzalez

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Subjects
Gender and Sexuality > LGBTQ Studies, Theater and Performance > Dance, African American Studies and Black Diaspora

Black performance theory is a rich interdisciplinary area of study and critical method. This collection of new essays by some of its pioneering thinkers-many of whom are performers-demonstrates the breadth, depth, innovation, and critical value of black performance theory. Considering how blackness is imagined in and through performance, the contributors address topics including flight as a persistent theme in African American aesthetics, the circulation of minstrel tropes in Liverpool and in Afro-Mexican settlements in Oaxaca, and the reach of hip-hop politics as people around the world embrace the music and dance. They examine the work of contemporary choreographers Ronald K. Brown and Reggie Wilson, the ways that African American playwrights translated the theatricality of lynching to the stage, the ecstatic music of Little Richard, and Michael Jackson's performance in the documentary This Is It. The collection includes several essays that exemplify the performative capacity of writing, as well as discussion of a project that re-creates seminal hip-hop album covers through tableaux vivants. Whether deliberating on the tragic mulatta, the trickster figure Anansi, or the sonic futurism of Nina Simone and Adrienne Kennedy, the essays in this collection signal the vast untapped critical and creative resources of black performance theory.

Contributors. Melissa Blanco Borelli, Daphne A. Brooks, Soyica Diggs Colbert, Thomas F. DeFrantz, Nadine George-Graves, Anita Gonzalez, Rickerby Hinds, Jason King, D. Soyini Madison, Koritha Mitchell, Tavia Nyong'o, Carl Paris, Anna B. Scott, Wendy S. Walters, Hershini Bhana Young

"With this compelling volume, DeFrantz and Gonzalez provide less a settled corpus of methodologies applied to a canon of academically sanctioned performance genres than an articulation and elaboration of black corporealities, vocalities, and 'sensibilities' across a heterogeneous field of performative enunciations--'high' and pop culture, geographically dispersed and diasporic. . . . This promises to become a key work. Highly recommended. Upper-division undergraduates through faculty and professionals." - R. Remshardt, Choice

"This is theory that dances. [...] Black Performance Theory convenes 14 scholars and practitioners of Africana performance and bids them dance and groove across national, hemispheric, oceanic, planetary, disciplinary, epochal, formal, and methodological boundaries in pursuit of blackness in motion." - La Marr Jurelle Bruce, TDR: The Drama Review

"This crucially important critical volume highlights the collaborative work of the Black Performance Theory Group, emphasizing the significance of black bodies in motion. A moving work!"
- Jennifer DeVere Brody, author of Punctuation: Art, Politics, and Play

"[ Black Performance Theory] is a palimpsest of black performance histories, practices, affects, and ideologies. . . . Exceeding iterations of ready-made blackness and overcooked theories of performance, this volume honors the charge to theorize outside the expected and to say something new."
- D. Soyini Madison, author of Acts of Activism: Human Rights as Radical Performance, from the foreword

"I do not know of any other anthology that examines black performance as theory and method, and does so across multiple disciplines and performance genres. Black Performance Theory brings together contributions from important scholars whose work is vital to the ongoing conversation about black performance. It is a must-read for those seeking to understand race through the analytic of performance."
- E. Patrick Johnson, author of Appropriating Blackness: Performance and the Politics of Authenticity

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Duke University Press - Black Performance Theory

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Thomas F. DeFrantz is Professor of African and African American Studies, Dance, and Theater Studies at Duke University. He is a dancer, a choreographer, and the author of Dancing Revelations: Alvin Ailey’s Embodiment of African American Culture.

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Black Acting Methods by Sharrell D. Luckett

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Black Acting Methods by Sharrell D. Luckett

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Black Acting Methods: Critical Approaches — Black Acting Methods Studio

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We’re sold out! Re-stocking in March 2024. OMG! The Studio is offering “Black Acting Methods: Critical Approaches” with an ink autograph and a special embossed seal from Studio founder and co-editor, Dr. Sharrell D. Luckett. This book will make a great addition to your library or a thoughtful gift

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"Critical memory is the act of reflecting upon and sharing recollections of embodied black experience. It does not presume that black bodies have exactly the same memories, yet assists the process of identifying connections across black bodies and acknowledges that related histories of discrimination, violence, and migration result in similar experiences. Critical memory invites consideration of past practices that have affected the lives and shaped the experiences of black folk (19)."

Young, Harvey. Embodying Black Experience (Theater: Theory/Text/Performance) (p. 19). University of Michigan Press. Kindle Edition.

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https://www.harpercollins.com/products/god-is-a-black-woman-christena-cleveland?variant=39344376021026

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"Wake: The Hidden History of Women-Led Slave Revolts" by Rebecca Hall

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"Wake: The Hidden History of Women-Led Slave Revolts" by Rebecca Hall

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Below are the two main written versions of Sojourner's speech. The original, on the left, was delivered by Sojourner and transcribed by Marius Robinson, a journalist, who was in the audience at the Woman's Rights Convention in Akron, Ohio on May 29, 1851. And Gage's version is on the right, written 12 years later and published in 1863, The full text of each version follows the synopsis below so you can see the differences line by line. I have highlighted overt similarities between the two versions. While Frances Gage changed most of Sojourner's words and falsely attributed a southern slave dialect to Sojourner's 1863 version, it is clear the origin of Gage's speech comes from Sojourner's original 1851 speech. It is interesting to note that Marius Robinson and Sojourner Truth were good friends and it was documented that they went over his transcription of her speech before he published it. One could infer from this pre printing meeting, that even if he did not capture every word she said, that she must have blessed his transcription and given permission to print her speech in the Anti‐Slavery Bugle. Library of Congress Link to Sojourner's Speech >

Marius Robinson's transcription:
Published June 21, 1851 in the
The Anti-Slavery Bugle

The oldest account of Truth's speech that provides more than a passing mention of it was published by Marius Robinson on June 21, 1851 in the Salem Anti‐Slavery Bugle, a few weeks after the speech was given. This version was not the first published account of the Akron speech, but rather the first attempt to convey what Sojourner Truth said in full.

1. May I say a few words? I want to say a few words about this matter.

2. I am a woman's rights.

3. (a) I have as much muscle as any man, and can do as much work as any man.

4. (b) I have plowed and reaped and husked and chopped and mowed, and can any man do more than that?

5. I have heard much about the sexes being equal; I can carry as much as any man, and can (c) eat as much too, if (d) I can get it.

6. I am as strong as any man that is now.

7. As for intellect, all I can say is, (e) if women have a pint and man a quart - why can't she have her little pint full?

8. You need not be afraid to give us our rights for fear we will take too much, for we cant take more than our pint'll hold.

9. The poor men seem to be all in confusion, and dont know what to do.

10. Why children, if you have woman's rights, give it to her and you will feel better.

11. You will have your own rights, and they wont be so much trouble.

12. I cant read, but I can hear.

13. I have heard the bible and have learned that Eve caused man to sin.

14. Well if woman upset the world, do give her a chance to set it right side up again.

15. The Lady has spoken about Jesus, how he never spurned woman from him, and she was right.

16. When Lazarus died, Mary and Martha came to him with faith and love and besought him to raise their brother.

17. And Jesus wept - and Lazarus came forth.

18. And how came Jesus into the world?

19. (f) Through God who created him and woman who bore him.

20. But the women are coming up blessed be God and a few of the men are coming up with them.

21. But man is in a tight place, the poor slave is on him, woman is coming on him, and he is surely between-a hawk and a buzzard.

Frances Gage's inacurate version:
23 April 1863 issue of the
New York Independent

The most common yet inaccurate rendering of Truth's speech-the one that introduced the famous phrase "Ar'n't I a woman?"-was constructed by Frances Dana Gage, nearly twelve years after the speech was given by Sojourner at the Akron conference. Gage's version first appeared in the New York Independent on April 23, 1863.

1. Well, chillen, whar dar's so much racket dar must be som'ting out o'kilter.

2. I tink dat, 'twixt de niggers of de South and de women at de Norf, all a-talking 'bout rights, de white men will be in a fix pretty soon.

3. But what's all this here talking 'bout?

4. Dat man ober dar say dat women needs to be helped into carriages, and lifted over ditches, and to have de best place eberywhar.

5. Nobody eber helps me into carriages or ober mud-puddles, or gives me any best place.

6. -And ar'n't I a woman?

7. (b) I have plowed and planted and gathered into barns, and no man could head me.

8. -and ar'n't I a woman?

9. I could work as much as (c) eat as much as a man, (when (d) I could get it,) and bear de lash as well

10. -and ar'n't I a woman?

11. I have borne thirteen chillen, and seen 'em mos' all sold off into slavery, and when I cried out with a mother's grief, none but Jesus heard

12. -and ar'n't I a woman?

13. Den dey talks 'bout dis ting in de head.

14. What dis dey call it?

15. Dat's it, honey.

16. What's dat got to do with women's rights or niggers' rights?

17. (e) If my cup won't hold but a pint and yourn holds a quart, wouldn't ye be mean not to let me have a little half-measure full?

18. Den dat little man in black dar, he say women can't have as much rights as man 'cause Christ wa'n't a woman.

19. Whar did your Christ come from?

20. Whar did your Christ come from?

21. (g)Man had nothing to do with him.

22. If de fust woman God ever made was strong enough to turn de world upside down all her one lone, all dese togeder ought to be able to turn it back and git it right side up again, and now dey is asking to, de men better let 'em.

23. Bleeged to ye for hearin' on me, and now ole Sojourner ha'n't got nothin' more to say.

Click on the red arrow below to hear the original transcription of Sojourner's 1851 speech.

Listen to the original Marius Robinson 1851 historically correct transcription of Truth's "Ain't I a woman" speech.

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Compare the Speeches - The Sojourner Truth Project

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Below are the two main written versions of Sojourner's speech. The original, on the left, was delivered by Sojourner and transcribed by Marius Robinson, a journalist, who was in the audience at the Woman's Rights Convention in Akron, Ohio on May 29, 1851.

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The following speech was delivered by playwright August Wilson on June 26, 1996, at the 11th biennial Theatre Communications Group national conference at New Jersey's Princeton University. This text represents the complete and definitive version of Wilson's address, as published by TCG in September 2001. For a full complement of reflections, responses, and other material about the speech and its legacy, gohere.

Some time ago I had an occasion to speak to a group of international playwrights. They had come from all over the world-from Colombia, Chile, from New Guinea, Poland, China, Nigeria, Italy, France, Great Britain. I began my remarks by welcoming them to my country. I didn't always think of it as my country, but since my ancestors have been here since the early 17th century, I thought it as good a beginning as any. So I say if there are any foreigners here in the audience, welcome to my country.

I wish to make it clear from the outset that I do not have a mandate to speak for anyone. There are many intelligent blacks working in the American theatre who speak in a loud and articulate voice. It would be the greatest of presumptions to say that I speak for them. I speak only for myself and those who may think as I do.

I have come here today to make a testimony, to talk about the ground on which I stand and all the many grounds on which I and my ancestors have toiled, and the ground of theatre on which my fellow artists and I have labored to bring forth its fruits, its daring and its sometimes lacerating, and often healing, truths.

The first and most obvious ground I am standing on is this platform that I have so graciously been given at the 11th biennial conference of the Theatre Communications Group. It is the Theatre Communications Group to which we owe much of our organization and communication, and I am grateful to them for entrusting me with the grave responsibility of sounding this keynote, and it is my hope to discharge my duties faithfully. I first attended the conference in 1984, and I recall John Hirsch's eloquent address on the "Other" and I mark it as a moment of enlightenment and import. And I am proud and thankful to stand here tonight in my embrace of that moment and to find myself on this platform. It is a moment I count well and mark with privilege.

In one guise, the ground I stand on has been pioneered by the Greek dramatists-by Euripides, Aeschylus, and Sophocles-by William Shakespeare, by Shaw, Ibsen, and Chekhov, Eugene O'Neill, Arthur Miller, Tennessee Williams. In another guise, the ground that I stand on has been pioneered by my grandfather, by Nat Turner, by Denmark Vesey, by Martin Delany, Marcus Garvey, and the Honorable Elijah Muhammad. That is the ground of the affirmation of the value of one's being, an affirmation of his worth in the face of this society's urgent and sometimes profound denial. It was this ground as a young man coming into manhood searching for something to dedicate my life to that I discovered the Black Power Movement of the '60s. I felt it a duty and an honor to participate in that historic moment. As a people who had arrived in America chained and malnourished in the hold of a 350-foot Portuguese, Dutch, or English sailing ship, we were now seeking ways to alter our relationship to the society in which we live-and, perhaps more important, searching for ways to alter the shared expectations of ourselves as a community of people.

I find it curious but no small accident that I seldom hear those words "Black Power" spoken, and when mention is made of that part of black history in America, whether in the press or in conversation, reference is made to the Civil Rights Movement as though the Black Power Movement-an important social movement by America's ex-slaves-had in fact never happened. But the Black Power Movement of the '60s was [in fact] a reality; it was the kiln in which I was fired, and has much to do with the person I am today and the ideas and attitudes that I carry as part of my consciousness.

I mention this because it is difficult to disassociate my concerns with theatre from the concerns of my life as a black man, and it is difficult to disassociate one part of my life from another. I have strived to live it all seamless-art and life together, inseparable and indistinguishable. The ideas I discovered and embraced in my youth when my idealism was full blown I have not abandoned in middle age when idealism is something less than blooming, but wisdom is starting to bud. The ideas of self-determination, self-respect, and self-defense that governed my life in the '60s I find just as valid and self-urging in 1996. The need to alter our relationship to the society and to alter the shared expectations of ourselves as a racial group I find of greater urgency now than it was then.

I am what is known, at least among the followers and supporters of the ideas of Marcus Garvey, as a "race man." That is simply that I believe that race matters-that is the largest, most identifiable and most important part of our personality. It is the largest category of identification because it is the one that most influences your perception of yourself, and it is the one to which others in the world of men most respond. Race is also an important part of the American landscape, as America is made up of an amalgamation of races from all parts of the globe. Race is also the product of a shared gene pool that allows for group identification, and it is an organizing principle around which cultures are formed. When I say culture I am speaking about the behavior patterns, the arts, beliefs, institutions, and all other products of human work and thought as expressed by a particular community of people.

There are some people who will say that black Americans do not have a culture- that cultures are reserved for other people, most notably Europeans of various ethnic groupings, and that black Americans make up a sub-group of American culture that is derived from the European origins of its majority population. But black Americans are Africans, and there are many histories and many cultures on the African continent.

Those who would deny black Americans their culture would also deny them their history and the inherent values that are a part of all human life.

Growing up in my mother's house at 1727 Bedford Avenue in Pittsburgh, Pa., I learned the language, the eating habits, the religious beliefs, the gestures, the notions of common sense, attitudes towards sex, concepts of beauty and justice, and the responses to pleasure and pain...that my mother had learned from her mother, and which you could trace back to the first African who set foot on the continent. It is this culture that stands today on these shores as a testament to the resiliency of the African American spirit.

The term black or African American not only denotes race, it denotes condition, and carries with it the vestige of slavery and the social segregation and abuse of opportunity so vivid in our memory. That this abuse of opportunity and truncation of possibility is continuing and is so pervasive in our society in 1996 says much about who we are and much about the work that is necessary to alter our perceptions of each other and to effect meaningful prosperity for all.

The problematic nature of the relationship between whites and blacks has for too long led us astray from the fulfillment of our possibilities as a society. We stare at each other across a divide of economics and privilege that has become an encumbrance on black Americans' ability to prosper and on the collective will and spirit of our national purpose.

I speak about economics and privilege, one significant fact affects us all in the American theatre: of the 66 LORT theatres, there is one that can be considered black. From this it could be falsely assumed that there aren't sufficient numbers of blacks working in the American theatre to sustain and support more theatres.
If you do not know, I will tell you: Black theatre in America is alive, it is vibrant, it is vital...it just isn't funded.
Black theatre doesn't share in the economics that would allow it to support its artists and supply them with meaningful avenues to develop their talent and broadcast and disseminate ideas crucial to its growth. The economics are reserved as privilege to the overwhelming abundance of institutions that preserve, promote, and perpetuate white culture.

That is not a complaint. That is an advertisement. Since the funding sources, both public and private, do not publicly carry avowed missions of exclusion and segregated support, this is obviously either a glaring case of oversight, or we the proponents of black theatre have not made our presence or our needs known. I hope here tonight to correct both of those oversights and assumptions.
I do not have the time in this short talk to reiterate the long and distinguished history of black theatre-often accomplished amid adverse and hostile conditions-but I would like to take the time to mark a few high points.

There are and have always been two distinct and parallel traditions in black art: that is, art that is conceived and designed to entertain white society, and art that feeds the spirit and celebrates the life of black America by designing its strategies for survival and prosperity.

An important part of black theatre that is often ignored but is seminal to its tradition is its origins on the slave plantations of the South. Summoned to the "big house" to entertain the slave owner and his guests, the slave began a tradition of theatre as entertainment for whites that reached its pinnacle in the heyday of the Harlem Renaissance. This entertainment for whites consisted of whatever the slave imagined or knew that his master wanted to see and hear. This tradition has its present-life counterpart in the crossover artists that slant their material for white consumption.

The second tradition occurred when the African in the confines of the slave quarters sought to invest his spirit with the strength of his ancestors by conceiving in his art, in his song and dance, a world in which he was the spiritual center, and his existence was a manifest act of the creator from whom life flowed. He could then create art that was functional and furnished him with a spiritual temperament necessary for his survival as property and the dehumanizing status that was attendant to that.

I stand myself and my art squarely on the self-defining ground of the slave quarters, and find the ground to be hallowed and made fertile by the blood and bones of the men and women who can be described as warriors on the cultural battlefield that affirmed their self-worth. As there is no idea that cannot be contained by black life, these men and women found themselves to be sufficient and secure in their art and their instructions.

It was this high ground of self-determination that the black playwrights of the '60s marked out for themselves. Ron Milner, Ed Bullins, Phillip Hayes Dean, Richard Wesley, Lonne Elder III, Sonia Sanchez, Barbara Ann Teer, and Amiri Baraka were among those playwrights who were particularly vocal and whose talents confirmed their presence in the society, and altered the American theatre, its meaning, its craft, and its history. This brilliant explosion of black arts and letters in the '60s remains for me the hallmark and the signpost that points the way to our contemporary work on the same ground. Black playwrights everywhere remain indebted to them for their brave and courageous forays into an area that is marked with land mines and the shadows of snipers-those who would reserve the territory of arts and letters and the American theatre as their own special province and point blacks toward the ball fields and the bandstands.

That black theatre today comes under such assaults should surprise no one, as we are on the verge of reclaiming and reexamining the purpose and pillars of our art and laying out new directions for its expansion. And as such we make a target for cultural imperialists who seek to empower and propagate their ideas about the world as the only valid ideas, and see blacks as woefully deficient not only in arts and letters but in the abundant gifts of humanity.

In the 19th century, the lack of education, the lack of contact with different cultures, the expensive and slow methods of travel and communication fostered such ideas, and the breeding ground of ignorance and racial intolerance promoted them.

The King's English and the lexicon of a people given to such ignorance and intolerance did not do much to dispel such obvious misconceptions, but provided them with a home. I cite Webster's Third New International Dictionary:

BLACK: outrageously wicked, dishonorable, connected with the devil, menacing, sullen, hostile, unqualified, illicit, illegal, violators of public regulations, affected by some undesirable condition... etc.
WHITE: free from blemish, moral stain or impurity; outstandingly righteous, innocent; not marked by malignant influence; notably auspicious, fortunate, decent; a sterling man.

Such is the linguistic environment that informs the distance that separates blacks and whites in America and which the cultural imperialists, who cannot imagine a life existing and flourishing outside their benevolent control, embraces.

Robert Brustein, writing in an article/review titled "Unity from Diversity" [ New Republic, July 19-26, 1993], is apparently disturbed that "there is a tremendous outpouring of work by minority artists" which he attributes to cultural diversity. He writes that the practice of extending invitations to a national banquet from which a lot of hungry people have long been excluded is a practice that can lead to confused standards. He goes on to establish a presumption of inferiority of the work of minority artists: "Funding agencies have started substituting sociological criteria for aesthetic criteria in their grant procedures, indicating that 'elitist' notions like quality and excellence are no longer functional." He goes on to say: "It's disarming in all senses of the word to say that we don't share common experiences that are measurable by common standards. But the growing number of truly talented artists with more universal interests suggests that we may soon be in a position to return to a single value system."

Brustein's surprisingly sophomoric assumption that this tremendous outpouring of work by minority artists leads to confusing standards and that funding agencies have started substituting sociological for aesthetic criteria, leaving aside notions like quality and excellence, shows him to be a victim of 19th-century thinking and the linguistic environment that posits blacks as unqualified. Quite possibly this tremendous outpouring of works by minority artists may lead to a raising of standards and a raising of the levels of excellence, but Mr. Brustein cannot allow that possibility.

To suggest that funding agencies are rewarding inferior work by pursuing sociological criteria only serves to call into question the tremendous outpouring of plays by white playwrights who benefit from funding given to the 66 LORT theatres.

Are those theatres funded on sociological or aesthetic criteria? Do we have 66 excellent theatres? Or do those theatres benefit from the sociological advantage that they are run by whites and cater to largely white audiences?

The truth is that often where there are aesthetic criteria of excellence, it is the sociological criteria that have traditionally excluded blacks. I say raise the standards and remove the sociological conditions of race as privilege, and we will meet you at the crossroads, in equal numbers, prepared to do the work of extending and developing the common ground of the American theatre.

We are capable of work of the highest order; we can answer to the high standards of world-class art. And anyone who doubts our capabilities at this late stage is being intellectually dishonest.

We can meet on the common ground of theatre as a field of work and endeavor. But we cannot meet on the common ground of experience.

Where is the common ground in the horrifics of lynching? Where is the common ground in the maim of the policeman's bullet? Where is the common ground in the hull of a slave ship or the deck of a slave ship with its refreshments of air and expanse?

We will not be denied our history.

We have voice and we have temper. We are too far along this road from the loss of our political will, we are too far along the road of reassembling ourselves, too far along the road to regaining spiritual health to allow such transgression of our history to go unchallenged.

The commonalities that we share are the commonalities of culture. We decorate our houses. That is something we do in common. We do it differently because we value different things. We have different manners and different values of social intercourse. We have different ideas of what a party is.

There are some commonalities to our different ideas. We both offer food and drink to our guests, but because we have different culinary values, different culinary histories, we offer different food and drink to our guests. As an example, in our culinary history, we have learned to make do with the feet and ears and tails and intestines of the pig rather than the loin and the ham and the bacon. Because of our different histories with the same animal, we have different culinary ideas. But we share a common experience with the pig as opposed to, say, Muslims and Jews, who do not share that experience.

We can meet on the common ground of the American theatre.

We cannot share a single value system if that value system consists of the values of white Americans based on their European ancestors. We reject that as Cultural Imperialism. We need a value system that includes our contributions as Africans in America. Our agendas are as valid as yours. We may disagree, we may forever be on opposite sides of aesthetics, but we can only share a value system that is inclusive of all Americans and recognizes their unique and valuable contributions.
The ground together: We must develop the ground together. We reject the idea of equality among equals, but we say rather the equality of all men.

The common values of the American theatre that we can share are plot...dialogue...characterization...design. How we both make use of them will be determined by who we are and what ground we are standing on and what our cultural values are.

Theatre is part of art history in terms of its craft and dramaturgy, but it is part of social history in terms of how it is financed and governed. By making money available to theatres willing to support colorblind casting, the financiers and governors have signaled not only their unwillingness to support black theatre but their willingness to fund dangerous and divisive assaults against it. Colorblind casting is an aberrant idea that has never had any validity other than as a tool of the Cultural Imperialists who view their American culture, rooted in the icons of European culture, as beyond reproach in its perfection. It is inconceivable to them that life could be lived and enriched without knowing Shakespeare or Mozart. Their gods, their manners, their being, are the only true and correct representations of humankind. They refuse to recognize black conduct and manners as part of a system that is fueled by its own philosophy, mythology, history, creative motif, social organization, and ethos. The idea that blacks have their own way of responding to the world, their own values, style, linguistics, their own religion and aesthetics, is unacceptable to them.

For a black actor to stand on the stage as part of a social milieu that has denied him his gods, his culture, his humanity, his mores, his ideas of himself and the world he lives in, is to be in league with a thousand naysayers who wish to corrupt the vigor and spirit of his heart.

To cast us in the role of mimics is to deny us our own competence.

Our manners, our style, our approach to language, our gestures, and our bodies are not for rent. The history of our bodies-the maimings, the lashings, the lynchings, the body that is capable of inspiring profound rage and pungent cruelty-is not for rent. Nor is the meaning of our history or our bodies for rent.

To mount an all-black production of a Death of a Salesman or any other play conceived for white actors as an investigation of the human condition through the specifics of white culture is to deny us our own humanity, our own history, and the need to make our own investigations from the cultural ground on which we stand as black Americans. It is an assault on our presence, and our difficult but honorable history in America; and it is an insult to our intelligence, our playwrights, and our many and varied contributions to the society and the world at large.

The idea of colorblind casting is the same idea of assimilation that black Americans have been rejecting for the past 380 years. For the record, we reject it again. We reject any attempt to blot us out, to reinvent our history and ignore our presence or to maim our spiritual product. We must not continue to meet on this path. We will not deny our history, and we will not allow it to be made to be of little consequence, to be ignored or misinterpreted.

In an effort to spare us the burden of being "affected by an undesirable condition" and as a gesture of benevolence, many whites (like the proponents of colorblind casting) say, "Oh, I don't see color." We want you to see us. We are black and beautiful. We are not patrons of the linguistic environment that would have us as "unqualified," and "violators of public regulations." We are not ashamed. We have an honorable history in the world of men. We come from a long line of honorable people with complex codes of ethics and social discourse, who devised myths and systems of cosmology and systems of economics, and who were themselves part of a long social and political history. We are not ashamed, and we do not need you to be ashamed for us. Nor do we need the recognition of our blackness to be couched in abstract phrases like "artist of color." Who are you talking about? A Japanese artist? An Eskimo? A Filipino? A Mexican? A Cambodian? A Nigerian? Are we to suppose that one white person balances out the rest of humanity lumped together as nondescript "people of color"? We reject that. We are unique, and we are specific.

We do not need colorblind casting; we need theatres. We need theatres to develop our playwrights. We need those misguided financial resources to be put to better use. Without theatres we cannot develop our talents. If we cannot develop our talents, then everyone suffers: our writers, the theatre, the audience. Actors are deprived of material, and our communities are deprived of the jobs in support of the art-the company manager, the press coordinator, the electricians, the carpenters, the concessionaires, the people that work in wardrobe, the box-office staff, the ushers, and the janitors. We need some theatres. We have only one life to develop our talent, to fulfill our potential as artists. One life, and it is short, and the lack of the means to develop our talent is an encumbrance on that life.

We did not sit on the sidelines while the immigrants of Europe, through hard work, skill, cunning, guile, and opportunity, built America into an industrial giant of the 20th century. It was our labor that provided the capital. It was our labor in the shipyards and the stockyards and the coal mines and the steel mills. Our labor built the roads and the railroads. And when America was challenged, we strode on the battlefield, our boots strapped on and our blood left to soak into the soil of places whose names we could not pronounce, against an enemy whose only crime was ideology. We left our blood in France and Korea and the Philippines and Vietnam, and our only reward has been the deprivation of possibility and the denial of our moral personality.

It cannot continue. The ground together: The American ground on which I stand and which my ancestors purchased with their perseverance, with their survival, with their manners, and with their faith.

It cannot continue, as well as other assaults upon our presence and our history cannot continue: When The New York Times publishes an article on pop singer Michael Bolton and lists as his influences four white singers, and then as an afterthought tosses in the phrase "and the great black rhythm and blues singers," it cannot be anything but purposeful with intent to maim. These great black rhythm and blues singers are reduced to an afterthought on the verge of oblivion-one stroke of the editor's pen and the history of American music is revised, and Otis Redding, Jerry Butler, and Rufus Thomas are consigned to the dustbin of history while Joe Cocker, Mick Jagger, and Rod Stewart are elevated to the status of the originators and creators of a vital art that is a product of our spiritual travails; and the history of music becomes a fabrication, a blatant forgery which under the hallowed auspices of The New York Times is presented as the genuine article.

We cannot accept these assaults. We must defend and protect our spiritual fruits. To ignore these assaults would make us derelict in our duties. We cannot accept them. Our political capital will not permit them.

So much of what makes this country rich in art and all manners of spiritual life is the contributions that we as African Americans have made. We cannot allow others to have authority over our cultural and spiritual products. We reject, without reservation, any attempt by anyone to rewrite our history so as to deny us the rewards of our spiritual labors, and to become the cultural custodians of our art, our literature, and our lives. To give expression to the spirit that has been shaped and fashioned by our history is of necessity to give voice and vent to the history itself.

It must remain for us a history of triumph.

The time has come for black playwrights to confer with one another, to come together to meet each other face to face, to address questions of aesthetics and ways to defend ourselves from the naysayers who would trumpet our talents as insufficient to warrant the same manner of investigation and exploration as the majority. We need to develop guidelines for the protection of our cultural property, our contributions and the influence they accrue. It is time we took the responsibility for our talents in our own hands. We cannot depend on others. We cannot depend on the directors, the managers, or the actors to do the work we should be doing for ourselves. It is our lives, our talent, and the pursuit of our fulfillment that are being encumbered by false ideas and perceptions of ourselves.
It is time to embrace the political dictates of our history and answer the challenge to our duties. And I further think we should confer in a city in our ancestral homeland in the southern part of the United States in 1998, so that we may enter the millennium united and prepared for a long future of prosperity.

From the hull of a ship to self-determining, self-respecting people. That is the journey we are making.

We are robust in spirit, we are bright with laughter, and we are bold in imagination. Our blood is soaked into the soil and our bones lie scattered the whole way across the Atlantic Ocean, as Hansel's crumbs, to mark our way back home.

We are no longer in the House of Bondage, and soon we will no longer be victims of the counting houses who hold from us ways to develop and support our talents and our expressions of life and its varied meanings. Assaults upon the body politic that demean and ridicule and depress the value and worth of our existence, that seek to render it immobile and to extinguish the flame of freedom lit eons ago by our ancestors upon another continent, must be met with a fierce and uncompromising defense.

If you are willing to accept it, it is your duty to affirm and urge that defense, and that respect, and that determination.

And I must mention here, with all due respect to W. E. B. Du Bois, that the concept of a "talented tenth" creates an artificial superiority. It is a fallacy and a dangerous idea that only serves to divide us further. I am not willing to throw away as untalented 90 percent of my blood; I am not willing to dismiss the sons and daughters of those people who gave more than lip service to the will to live and made it a duty to prosper in spirit, if not in provision. All God's children got talent. It is a dangerous idea to set one part of the populace above and aside from the other. We do a grave disservice to ourselves not to seek out and embrace and enable all of our human resources as a people. All blacks in America, with very few exceptions-with very few exceptions-no matter what our status, no matter the size of our bank accounts, no matter how many and what kind of academic degrees we can place beside our names, no matter the furnishings and square footage of our homes, the length of our closets and the quality of the wool and cotton that hangs there-we all in America originated from the same place: the slave plantations of the South. We all share a common past, and despite how some of us might think and how it might look, we all share a common present and will share a common future.

We can make a difference. Artists, playwrights, actors-we can be the spearhead of a movement to reignite and reunite our people's positive energy for a political and social change that is reflective of our spiritual truths rather than economic fallacies. Our talents, our truths, our belief in ourselves is all in our hands. What we make of it will emerge from the self as a baptismal spray that names and defines.

What we do now becomes history by which our grandchildren will judge us.
We are not off on a tangent. The foundation of the American theatre is the foundation of European theatre that begins with the great Greek dramatists; it is based on the proscenium stage and the poetics of Aristotle. This is the theatre that we have chosen to work in. And we embrace the values of that theatre but reserve the right to amend, to explore, and to add our African consciousness and our African aesthetic to the art we produce.

To pursue our cultural expression does not separate us. We are not separatists, as Mr. Brustein asserts. We are Americans trying to fulfill our talents. We are not the servants at the party. We are not apprentices in the kitchens. We are not the stable boys to the king's huntsmen. We are Africans. We are Americans. The irreversible sweep of history has decreed that. We are artists who seek to develop our talents and give expression to our personalities. We bring advantage to the common ground that is the American theatre.

All theatres depend on an audience for a dialogue. To the American theatre, subscription audiences are its life blood. But the subscription audience holds theatres hostage to the mediocrity of its tastes, and impedes the further development of an audience for the work that we do. While intentional or not, it serves to keep blacks out of the theatre. A subscription audience becomes not a support system but makes the patrons members of a club to which the theatre serves as a clubhouse. It is an irony that the people who can most afford a full-price ticket get discounts for subscribing, while the single-ticket buyer who cannot afford a subscription is charged the additional burden of support to offset the subscription-buyer's discount. It is a system that is in need of overhaul to provide not only a more equitable access to tickets but access to influence as well.

I look for and challenge students of arts management to be bold in their exploration of new systems of funding theatres, including profit-making institutions and ventures, and I challenge black artists and audiences to scale the walls erected by theatre subscriptions to gain access to this vital area of spiritual enlightenment and enrichment that is the theatre.

All theatregoers have opinions about the work they witness. Critics have an informed opinion. Sometimes it may be necessary for them to gather more information to become more informed. As playwrights grow and develop, as the theatre changes, the critic has an important responsibility to guide and encourage that growth. However, in the discharge of their duties, it may be necessary for them to also grow and develop. A stagnant body of critics, operating from the critical criteria of 40 years ago, makes for a stagnant theatre without the fresh and abiding influence of contemporary ideas. It is the critics who should be in the forefront of developing new tools for analysis necessary to understand new influences.

The critic who can recognize a German neo-Romantic influence should also be able to recognize an American influence from blues or black church rituals, or any other contemporary American influence.

The true critic does not sit in judgment. Rather he seeks to inform his reader, instead of adopting a posture of self-conscious importance in which he sees himself a judge and final arbiter of a work's importance or value.

We stand on the verge of an explosion of playwriting talent that will challenge our critics. As American playwrights absorb the influence of television and use new avenues of approach to the practice of their craft, they will grow to be wildly inventive and imaginative in creating dramas that will guide and influence contemporary life for years to come.

Theatre can do that. It can disseminate ideas, it can educate even the miseducated, because it is art-and all art reaches across that divide that makes order out of chaos, and embraces the truth that overwhelms with its presence, and connects man to something larger than himself and his imagination.

Theatre asserts that all of human life is universal. Love, Honor, Duty, Betrayal belong and pertain to every culture and every race. The way they are acted out on the playing field may be different, but betrayal is betrayal whether you are a South Sea Islander, a Mississippi farmer, or an English baron. All of human life is universal, and it is theatre that illuminates and confers upon the universal the ability to speak for all men.

The ground together: We have to do it together. We cannot permit our lives to waste away, our talents unchallenged. We cannot permit a failure to our duty. We are brave and we are boisterous, our mettle is proven, and we are dedicated.

The ground together: The ground of the American theatre on which I am proud to stand...the ground which our artistic ancestors purchased with their endeavors...with their pursuit of the American spirit and its ideals.

I believe in the American theatre. I believe in its power to inform about the human condition, I believe in its power to heal, "to hold the mirror as 'twere up to nature," to the truths we uncover, to the truths we wrestle from uncertain and sometimes unyielding realities. All of art is a search for ways of being, of living life more fully.

We who are capable of those noble pursuits should challenge the melancholy and barbaric, to bring the light of angelic grace, peace, prosperity and the unencumbered pursuit of happiness to the ground on which we all stand. Thank you.
Copyright © 1996 and 2001 by August Wilson; reprinted by permission of the estate of August Wilson. "The Ground on Which I Stand" is published by Theatre Communications Group, Inc., 520 Eighth Avenue, 24th Floor, New York, NY 10018-4156. All rights reserved. Except for brief passages quoted in newspaper, magazine, radio or television reviews, no part of "The Ground on Which I Stand" may be reproduced in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying or recording, or by an information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

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The following speech was delivered by playwright August Wilson on June 26, 1996, at the 11th biennial Theatre Communications Group national conference at New Jersey's Princeton University. This text represents the complete and definitive version of Wilson's address, as published by TCG in September 2001.

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Afrocentricity, Identity Formation and Methods for Black theatre artists (excerpt)

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Afrocentricity, Identity Formation and Methods for Black theatre artists (excerpt)

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This text was written by and belongs to Lindsay A. Jenkins

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Signifying is a trope in which are subsumed several other rhetorical tropes, including metaphor, metonymy, synecdoche, and irony (the master tropes), and also hyperbole and litotes, and metalepsis (Bloom’s supplement to Burke). To this list we could easily add aporia, chiasmus, and catechesis, all of which are used in the ritual of signifying. 

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Signifying is a trope in which are subsumed several other rhetorical tropes, including metaphor, metonymy, synecdoche, and irony (the master tropes), and also hyperbole and litotes, and metalepsis (Bloom’s supplement to Burke). To this list we could easily add aporia, chiasmus, and catechesis, all of which are used in the ritual of signifying. 

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Metaphor: a figure of speech in which a word or phrase is applied to an object or action to which it is not literally applicable. (Drowning in work)

Metonymy: a figure of speech in which a concept is referred to by the name of something closely associated with that thing or concept. (referring to the entire financial instition of America as simply "Wall Street")

Synecdoche: a figure of speech in which a part is made to represent the whole or vice versa (mouths in "hungry mouths to feed"; and wheels referring to a car.

Irony (the master tropes): the expression of one's meaning by using language that normally signifies the opposite, typically for humorous or emphatic effect. (don't everybody get up at once- when nobody has stood up)

Hyperbole: exaggerated statements or claims not meant to be taken literally. (I could eat a horse)

Litotes: ironic understatement in which an affirmative is expressed by the negative of its contrary (you won't be sorry meaning you will be glad)

Metalepsis: a figure of speech in which a word or a phrase from figurative speech is used in a new context. ("I've got to catch the worm tomorrow." from the common phrase "The early bird catches the worm" )

Aporia: an expression of real or pretended doubt or uncertainty especially for rhetorical effect (I am at no loss for information about you and your family; but I am at a loss where to begin)

Chiasmus:  a two-part sentence or phrase, where the second part is a reversal of the first. (“When the going gets tough, the tough get going”)

Catachresis:  a semantic misuse or error, also the name given to many different types of figures of speech in which a word or phrase is being applied in a way that significantly departs from conventional (or traditional) usage. (Mow the beard, Shave the grass)

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Scholars have for some time commented upon the peculiar use of the
word ‘‘signifying’’ in black discourse. Though sharing some connotations
with the standard English-language word, ‘‘signifying’’ has rather unique
definitions in black discourse. Roger D. Abrahams defines it as follows:
Signifying seems to be a Negro term, in use if not in origin. It can mean any
of a number of things; in the case of the toast about the signifying monkey, it
certainly refers to the trickster’s ability to talk with great innuendo, to carp,
cajole, needle, and lie. It can mean in other instances the propensity to talk
around a subject, never quite coming to the point. It can mean making fun of
a person or situation. Also it can denote speaking with the hands and eyes,
and in this respect encompasses a whole complex of expressions and gestures. Thus it is signifying to stir up a fight between neighbors by telling
stories; it is signifying to make fun of a policeman by parodying his motions
behind his back; it is signifying to ask for a piece of cake by saying, ‘‘my
brother needs a piece of cake.’’∫
Essentially, Abrahams concludes, signifying is a ‘‘technique of indirect argument or persuasion,’’ ‘‘a language of implication,’’ ‘‘to imply, goad, beg,
boast, by indirect verbal or gestural means.’’

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adrienne maree brown talks about her book "Pleasure Activism"

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adrienne maree brown talks about her book "Pleasure Activism"

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Audre Lorde reads Uses of the Erotic: The Erotic as Power

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Quotes from "All About Love" by bell hooks

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Quotes from "All About Love" by bell hooks

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10 Powerful Quotes from bell hooks’ “All About Love”

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Become a member of Mijente. We’re an action hub for all our people bound by the same principles, common struggles, ideals, and shared identity.

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Alice Walker reads "Democratic Womanism"

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Alice Walker reads "Democratic Womanism"

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"Democratic Womanism" A Poem by Alice Walker

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From the 60 Minutes archive: August Wilson

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Drawing on extensive archival records, this digital memorial allows analysis of the ships, traders, and captives in the Atlantic slave trade. The three databases below provide details of 36,000 trans-Atlantic slave voyages, 10,000 intra-American ventures, names and personal information. You can rea…

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Dismal freedom : a history of the Maroons of the Great Dismal Swamp by J. Brent Morris

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Dismal freedom : a history of the Maroons of the Great Dismal Swamp by J. Brent Morris

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“Brent Morris has provided a fascinating exploration of the maroons of the Great Dismal Swamp and how their fellow Americans reacted to those people who lived outside the spaces governed by white Americans and controlled by their economic systems. Using literature, archeological studies, and more-traditional historical sources, this book delineates the important physical space in the Dismal that permitted freedom within enslavement and recovers the psychological meaning of that space to both Black and white Americans. In the process, this elegant volume recovers a key piece of the history of enslavement in the United States.”—Heather Cox Richardson, author of How the South Won the Civil War

“Building on the work of archaeologists, historians, and his own deep archival work, Brent Morris has produced a comprehensive history of freedom-seekers: a testament to the power of both individual courage and collective solidarity.”—Ed Baptist, author of The Half Has Never Been Told: Slavery and the Making of American Capitalism

"By taking the reader deep inside the "liberated zone" known as the Great Dismal Swamp, J. Brent Morris vividly illuminates the political will of enslaved African Americans to be free. This gripping saga recounts one of America's greatest freedom stories."— Marcus Rediker, author of The Slave Ship

“Clear, straightforward, and lively—Dismal Freedom is an impressive, thorough, and meticulously researched historical narrative."— Douglas R. Egerton, author of Thunder at the Gates: The Black Civil War Regiments that Redeemed America

“Very revealing! This outstanding and genuinely novel contribution to the history of slavery and the South makes excellent use of recent archaeological discoveries yet puts them into a historical perspective for the average reader. This will be the go-to book on U.S. marronage.”—Timothy Lockley, author of Maroon Communities in South Carolina: A Documentary Record

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Dismal Freedom | J. Brent Morris | University of North Carolina Press

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"Brent Morris has provided a fascinating exploration of the maroons of the Great Dismal Swamp and how their fellow Americans reacted to those people who lived outside the spaces governed by white Americans and controlled by their economic systems. Using literature, archeological studies, and more-traditional historical sources, this book delineates the important physical space in the Dismal that permitted freedom within enslavement and recovers the psychological meaning of that space to both Black and white Americans.

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The Cake Walk is a dance born out of the Slavery Era in America. It is a satirical imitation of White folks. It started as an inside joke and was eventually formalized into a dance competition- with the winner getting a cake as a prize. In the early 1900s the cakewalk became part of many minstrel shows. So what began as a performance, born out of surveillance of White people, was transformed into a performance born out of surveillance of Black people.

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Ralph Ellison: Invisible Man and Shadow and Act

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Ralph Ellison: Invisible Man and Shadow and Act

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Shadow and Act by Ralph Ellison: 9780679760009 | PenguinRandomHouse.com: Books

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Skip to Main Content (Press Enter) Get the latest updates about Ralph Ellison And go from well-read to best read with book recs, deals and more in your inbox every week. And go from well-read to best read with book recs, deals and more in your inbox every week.

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Surrealism is described as a 20th-century unusual or unconventional art movement that serves the purpose of releasing creative expression of the unconscious mind. Bizzare images, dreamlike landscapes of untamed thought. Surrealism is interested in exploring the minds thoughts and concepts directly as they come. Surrealism through artistic mediums like paintings can appear as incohesive juxtapositions, but are done so deliberately, and organically. Art has always been a tool used to provoke audiences to understand social constructs, societal reforms, and so called "uncomfortable" realities the broader public can't seem to digest. Which could be an understandable reason black surrealist creatives have flocked to the genre; to demonstrate their beliefs genuinely while still advising their audience on issues that matter through unorthodox means of articulation. What I am primarily focused on is the ways black artist have adapted surrealism, and made it their own. Afro-surrealism are the forms of artistic work inspired by the black cultural aesthetic with the purpose of liberating the people and expanding the understanding of how black individuals exist. Afro-surrealist look to inform the public on the invention of structure: racial, societal, and norms, all while still critiquing these structures that are imposed on them. African-American surrealist are interested in exposing the "right now ", another way of saying what is currently happening universally to effect the black livelihood. As described by Lacey Murphy and Kevin Mccoy in Afro-Surrealism: What Black is and Can Be. They state, "From "stop and frisk" policies to racially motivated 911 calls and other forms of racial profiling prevalent in society today, black Americans are continuously policed simply by race and appearance. This is why the mission of exposing the "right now" is crucial". In my essay, I intend to look at the ways afro-surrealist are communicating to us through the use of surrealism. From Henry Dumas to Sun-Ra onto the likes of Toni Morrison I will look at the mediums black surrealist use to communicate their message and its effectiveness. I will analyze how black artist have embraced surrealism, and how they are using it to their advantage as creatives and racial equity zealots. By singularly focusing on afro-surrealism and black artist who practice this, I can track subject matter patterns across the spectrum of surrealism black artist have chosen to explore.

Afro-surrealism as a component of the black arts movement that takes our world and creates a different scenescape that is still relatively connected to this one; and black artist have chosen to use this genre to express their feelings of worry, liberty, and injustice giving them the room to be as weird and free as they'd like. The Black Speculative Arts Movement or BSAM is a term that refers to the entire movement of black abstract arts. It was BSAM that helped bring recognition to afro-surrealism and display it on the the forefront of black arts movement. Reynaldo Anderson author of Afrofuturism 2.0 attempts to explain how BSAM has become an "umbrella" term for much of what the black arts movement consist of.

"BSAM is a loose umbrella term which represents different positions or basis of inquiry: Afrofuturism 2.0 (and its several Africanist manifestations, e.g. Black Quantum Futurism, African Futurism, Afrofuturismo, and Afro- futurista), Astro Blackness, Afro-Surrealism, Afro-Pessimism, Ethno Gothic, Black Digital Humanities, Black (Afro-future female or African centered) Science Fiction, The Black Fantastic, Magical Realism, and The Esoteric. Although these positions may be incompatible in some instances, they overlap around the term speculative and design, and interact around the nexus of technology and ethics."

While surrealism is only a small piece in a greater moment it's important to recognize how all of these different genres naturally connect to one another due to their desire to interconnect with the unethical treatment of blackness in a larger space. Much like the rest of the genres under the umbrella, afro-surrealism and its contributors deal with the ludicrousness and the strangeness of the black experience through music, paintings, photography, sculpture, film, and even stories. While sometimes ridiculous, the stories these artist tell while absurd are still true at the root of their origins in blackness. Artist who create on different platforms each had their own unique way of sharing their surrealist imaginations. In Henry Dumas: Afro-Surreal Expressionist, author Amiri Baraka describes the ways some artist have personalized the genre and the techniques they used to revolutionize the black arts movement. The author explores the techniques artist have previously used to construct meaning that isn't easily understood by the masses.

"The strangeness of Dumas's world resembles Toni Morrison's wild, emotional "places." Both utilize high poetic description- language of exquisite metaphorical elegance, even as narrative precision. But language tells as well as decorates. Both signify as powerfully as they directly communicate. The symbols sing, are cymbals of deeper experience, not word games for academics."(Baraka)

Black artist continue to build these distinctive worlds ruled by blackness and unfiltered black conscious thought. These platforms of art are unapologetically done so, with the inclusion of signifying, AAVE, and universal black rhetoric. Afro-surrealist look to inspire audiences through their ability to symbolically look at how blackness operates within white America through preposterousterity and emotion. Afro-surrealism also deals with the spirituality of autonomy, as it appears in Henry Dumas' Ark of Bones. He explores this side of surrealism by writing about how it intersects with the natural black experience. Author Henry Dumas' Ark of Bones weaves a tale of two young men and their journey to find the great ark that once held the black ancestors, and their destiny to transcend this world for a better one. Dumas is a successful surrealist writer who has the ability to make the reader question the nature of their reality in white America. While the reading itself is rather mysterious as it's content is filled with complex ideas, Dumas skillfully presents his take on afro-surrealism with a not so subtle approach to the importance of Africanness. Adetokunbo Pearse journal author of The Mystique Factor in Dumas Ark of Bones discusses the spirituality factor that plays a role in Dumas intriguing story.

"In aspects of theme, atmosphere, language, and characterization, the story Ark of Bones" brings to life the dream-like nature of the history of Africans on the planet Earth. It is a story plagued by attempts to dodge deadly blows aimed at the cultural lifeline of the community. In that sphere all of the human experience irrespective of race is, even like death, a concomitant mystique factor. Headeye, the mojo man, prophesied his own return. We are left to presume that at his second coming he will anchor his ark somewhere in the multicultural city center and help twenty-first-century man get on board." (325-327)

Pearse does a fine job of summing up the importance of spirituality in Dumas' work and what it does to further support the idea that afro-surrealism is centered around the notion of moving towards a more multicultural existence for all people. The story also relies heavily on cultural identity with the pleasant use of African-American vernacular and signifyin; and the opinion of holiness aligned with blackness after the protagonist of the story learned about God's people who sailed in the arks. Leaving their bones and haunting memory behind in this world. Only to return with Headeye to a different reality of welcome Africanism. Dumas isn't alone in his journey in seeking out the spiritual connection to blackness in surrealist art; other artist who've mastered the platform of music allow audiences to experiences their blackness in an out-of worldly way, literally.

Artist like Sun-Ra engages with audiences in the celestial alternate reality where race is only a construct that limits those who have an inferiority complex. Sun-Ra a jazz musician known for his vibrant playings alongside his arkestra (possible callback to Dumas' Ark) was himself an embodiment of afro-surrealism and futurism, proving the overlap of surrealism and futurism just as Anderson states. While most thought he was just another quack musical genius due to the claims he made, ""Since I don't consider myself as one of the humans, I'm a spiritual being myself,"(Sun-Ra to Joel Rose, NPR) People were quick to right him off; but what if he is on to something. What if Sun-Ra like Dumas understands more about the existence of blackness in America, or even on Earth. Author Yatasha Womack dives deep into the worlds of both afro-futurism and afro-surrealism and how they relate to one another and the impact they leave on society in her book titles AFROFUTURISM where she gives an explanation for both genres and describes their cultural significance and importance. Yatasha Womack quotes Mark Derry in her book AFROFUTURISM stating, "African Americans are, in a very real sense, the descendants of alien abductees." An example of surrealism and life coming together to create a "human" who opposes the constructs that others imposed on him. Sun-Ra embraces this afro-futuristic style whole heartedly, rejecting the adversities that come with everyday black livelihood and reclaiming himself an alien. Sun-Ra found spirituality outside of the eurocentric norms of religion and Americanness, outside of this world even, I'd like to believe that he found peak blackness outside of Earth on his supposed home planet of Saturn. Why else would he have a song called "Space is The Place". In trying to grasp the how the spirituality is reflected on the visual side of Sun-Ra's performances, Peter Watrus wrote in the New York Times,

"He and his band, usually called the Arkestra, dressed in a funny version of 1950's intergalactica, with glittering hats (which were in fact spandex tank tops), robes and amulets that signified everything from Egyptology to outer-space surrealism. Sun Ra made his performances a mixture of camp, pandemonium, seriousness and spiritual catharsis"(Watrus)

Visual media has also impacted the afro-surrealist arts movement, maybe even more so than any other medium because of its widespread accessibility and intrigue to audience, looking to you Get Out and Sorry To Bother You. Author Larne Bakare delves deeply into the genre of afro-surrealism through the use of music, visual media, film, television shows, and artwork to understand the ways in which artist and creators explore the craziness of black life and society specifically through the black POV. The author looks at the past of the afro-surrealist movement to it's influencers and the impact they left on the movement. He observes the "weirdness" of the movement as a central theme to its mass appeal stating, "it's no wonder our pop cultural landscape is turning Afro-surreal at a time when society is wrestling with racial violence, bias and inequality." Writes Lanre Bakare whose essay on the new afro-surrealist covers writers like Jordan Peele and creative directors like Terrence Nance or Boots Riley. Jordan Peele takes you to the sunken place where black folks are the marginalized and forced to relive the trauma of being sought out for their physical prowess. Boots Riley shows us the acute horrors of capitalism and ask the question: what are you willing to give up to have it all? Terrence Nance uses his sketch show to introduce you to modern blackness and how white society interferes with it. He even introduces you to death personified whose sole job is to take the lives of black children; but is so distraught over her job, she [death] tries to follow after them. Proving even death is empathetic to the disgusting acts committed against black bodies. Writers and directors, specifically black writer and directors understand what is going on in America, because it is mirrored in their work. For some of them, they've chose to express their fears through surrealism for the abstraction of it all. These films are complicated and complex, but they are at their core what blackness is all about.

There's no arguing that afro-surrealism isn't a unique, exuberant, and artistic movement that engages audiences in critical rhetorical analysis. But I fear some fans of Jordan Peele's work, or jazz fans who are intrigued by Sun-Ra are still left questioning it, and asking what it means, or what's the message behind the art. How do artist take complicated themes that some might not comprehend, and use them to convey meaning? D. Scott Miller writes about what the afro-surrealist movement is and how their artwork has contributed to the conversation of surrealism. The manifesto shares Millers ideas how it's lasting legacy evokes emotion from audiences. He states,

"Afro-Surrealists distort reality for emotional impact. 50 Cent and his cold monotone and Walter Benjamin and his chilly shock tactics can kiss our ass. Enough! We want to feel something! We want to weep on record." Artist convey meaning through raw emotion. Through emotion that is evoked through what is happening during the "Right Now". "RIGHT NOW, Afro-Surreal is the best description to the reactions, the genuflections, the twists, and the unexpected turns this "browning" of White-Straight-Male-Western-Civilization has produced."

Miller writes. I've chose to see it as the act of 'creating' is how artist have chosen to convey meaning. Terrence Nance see's how the lives of black youth are threatened by oppressive forces and institutions; so he writes a show that nonchalantly talks about their death. I could assume the meaning behind this is stop killing us! The meaning isn't in the art, it's the reason for the art, the reason behind the art, the inspiration for the art. If artist didn't care about black lives, or racial inequality, or the consequences of capitalism, we wouldn't have the content we have now. Miller quotes another on afro-surrealism, and how it's work has left legacies. "Jean-Paul Sartre said that the art of Senghor and the African Surrealist (or Negritude) movement "is revolutionary because it is surrealist, but itself is surrealist because it is black."" Blackness is tethered to the meaning in afro-surrealism because I believe that the artist understand the importance of unfiltered thought and the importance of sharing the truth. Artist convey meaning through afro-surrealism just as literature conveys meaning in the text, you have to care about the topic and the subject matter before you even pick up the book, and once you start to read, only then can you understand the artist intent. One can only convey meaning if there is a subject for the meaning to make an impression on. The message isn't the meaning, but the act of creating out of the need to liberate.

"The focus of Afro-Surrealism is the present but it does not deny succession of time and the importance of the past as an agent in shaping the 'now'" Writes Rali Chorbadzhiyska on their blog Starting Point 102. Afro-surrealism is the art movement that focuses on what is happening right now, but their influence on how to depict the "right now" is deep rooted in the history of blackness in America. In order to understand the experiences of African-Americans there has to be a blunt telling of their livelihoods. Afro-surrealism doesn't mince words or sugar coat, it's unabashedly honest even if the delivery of the message isn't always clear. I'm in favor of afro-surrealism because of the emotions that the art can evoke. One of the main goals afro-surrealism is to evoke emotion through the use of dionysian more so than the use of apollonian. Miller talks about the Négritude movement and how it is a central correspondent in understanding afro-surrealism. To further explain what Miller is talking about and the role of these two forms of rhetoric, I use The Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy's section on Négritude definition to explain the theory. They state,

"Césaire's views follow consistently from his surrealist poetics and eventually converge with his friend Senghor's. Césaire's notion of the primordial role that should be played by the Dionysian in art versus the Apollonian. These are categories that Césaire and Senghor adopted from Nietzsche's philosophy (Nietzsche's Birth of Tragedy) to express the opposition between the primal, obscure force of life considered as an organic whole (the Dionysian) on the one hand, and on the other hand the plastic beauty or the form which brings into light the individuality of the object (the Apollonian): the Dionysian speaks to our emotion while the Apollonian speaks to our intellectuality."

By incorporating dionysian, or emotion in the afro-surrealism movement artist can convey honest thought, and meaning to their work. Which translates across all platforms of art. And by including apollonian, even just the slightest amount allows views to see the world through blackness for how it truly looks. Afro-surrealism isn't focused on black pain like torture porn; but focused on the idea of black development throughout time. An artistic timeline that shares the history and emboldens the people to further recognize what is happening in their own lives right now. I see afro-surrealism as the real 'wokeness' and the ability to see the world as it is and present it forth as such. My critique of afro-surrealism is that it is necessary tool of obstruction if we are too continue to tell the truth. There needs to be black artist willing to sacrifice the comfort most of us find ourselves in because we refuse to see what is happening "Right Now". It is a burden to bear and the consequences may weigh heavily, but the outcome is usually the same; a bewildered critique wondering what the sunken place is? Or if they too, are from Saturn. Solange said, "I saw things I imagined" speaking surrealism into fruition. In conclusion, the artistic movement of afro-surrealism is arguably more than just an artistic expression, but a political one and a form of self-assertion. While it can be depicted through music, paintings, photography, collages, and visual media, it is certainly not limited to just those forms of articulation.Afro-surrealism gives audiences the chance to interpret injustice in a telling that can either be comical, scary, mundane, and exciting but all the same they are being exposed to the serious subject matter. Because of outstanding artist who have taken on the load of informing people of what is currently happening in America, we are all "privileged" enough to be exposed to this art, and to learn from it, and garner an understanding of how some people have to live. While afro-surrealism may impart some of it's 'wokeness' on you, it's main objective forces you see and hopefully care. You won't care about capitalism, or racism, or the erasure of blackness until you ask the questions of why? And is that not what afro-surrealism is.

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Afro-Surrealism: Embracing & Reconstructing the Absurdity of "Right Now"

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Surrealism is described as a 20th-century unusual or unconventional art movement that serves the purpose of releasing creative expression of the unconscious mind. Bizzare images, dreamlike landscapes of untamed thought. Surrealism is interested in exploring the minds thoughts and concepts directly as they come.

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- When you read early reviews of Toni's work, those early sympathetic liberal reviewers, and I remember one of them about Sula, and the reviewer says, 'She's got a great talent.

'One day, she won't limit it to 'only writing about black people.'

Like really, it's limiting for her to write about black people?

Like, no one says that when, you know, an Irish writer writes about Irish people.

You know, it's only limiting when you write about black people.

(upbeat music) - [Narrator] 'In spite of its richness 'and its thorough originality, one continually feels 'its narrowness, its refusal to brim over 'into the world outside its provincial setting.'

'Toni Morrison is far too talented to remain 'only a marvelous recorder of the black side 'of provincial American life.'

'If she is to maintain the large and serious audience 'she deserves, she is going to have to address 'a riskier contemporary reality.'

- I have had reviews in the past that have accused me of not writing about white people.

I remember a review of Sula in which the reviewer said, 'One day, she,' meaning me, 'will have to face up 'to the real responsibilities, and get mature, 'and write about the real confrontation 'for black people, which is white people.'

As though our lives have no meaning and no depth without the white gaze, and I have spent my entire writing life trying to make sure that the white gaze was not the dominant one in any of my books.

- Toni Morrison's project resides precisely in the effort to discredit the notion that this white male gaze must be omnipresent.

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Toni Morrison On Writing Without the "White Gaze" | American Masters | PBS

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When you read early reviews of Toni's work, those early sympathetic liberal reviewers, and I remember one of them about Sula, and the reviewer says, 'She's got a great talent. 'One day, she won't limit it to 'only writing about black people.' Like really, it's limiting for her to write about black people?

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"It is not that all black people have the same experience; it is, rather, that a remarkable similarity, a repetition with a difference, exists among embodied black experiences. Unlike other studies that interrogate the lived realities and social performances of black folk, the emphasis here is not on the scalar differences that separate one person from another but on those moments of experiential overlap that frequently create common and, perhaps, shared understandings among black folk of the similar ways in which they are viewed and treated.

Young, Harvey. Embodying Black Experience (Theater: Theory/Text/Performance) (p. 5). University of Michigan Press. Kindle Edition.

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"Embodying Black Experience: Stillness, Critical Memory and the Black Body" by Harvey Young

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"Embodying Black Experience: Stillness, Critical Memory and the Black Body" by Harvey Young

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In 1901, George Ward, a lynching victim, was attacked, murdered, and dismembered by a mob of white men, women, and children. As his lifeless body burned in a fire, enterprising white youth cut off his toes and, later, his fingers and sold them as souvenirs. In Embodying Black Experience , Harvey Young masterfully blends biography, archival history, performance theory, and phenomenology to relay the experiences of black men and women who, like Ward, were profoundly affected by the spectacular intrusion of racial violence within their lives. Looking back over the past two hundred years-from the exhibition of boxer Tom Molineaux and Saartjie Baartman (the "Hottentot Venus") in 1810 to twenty-first century experiences of racial profiling and incarceration-Young chronicles a set of black experiences, or what he calls, "phenomenal blackness," that developed not only from the experience of abuse but also from a variety of performances of resistance that were devised to respond to the highly predictable and anticipated arrival of racial violence within a person's lifetime.

Embodying Black Experience pinpoints selected artistic and athletic performances-photography, boxing, theater/performance art, and museum display-as portals through which to gain access to the lived experiences of a variety of individuals. The photographs of Joseph Zealy, Richard Roberts, and Walker Evans; the boxing performances of Jack Johnson, Joe Louis, and Muhammad Ali; the plays of Suzan-Lori Parks, Robbie McCauley, and Dael Orlandersmith; and the tragic performances of Bootjack McDaniels and James Cameron offer insight into the lives of black folk across two centuries and the ways that black artists, performers, and athletes challenged the racist (and racializing) assumptions of the societies in which they lived.

Blending humanistic and social science perspectives, Embodying Black Experience explains the ways in which societal ideas of "the black body," an imagined myth of blackness, get projected across the bodies of actual black folk and, in turn, render them targets of abuse. However, the emphasis on the performances of select artists and athletes also spotlights moments of resistance and, indeed, strength within these most harrowing settings.

"Young's linkage between critical race theory, historical inquiry, and performance studies is a necessary intersection. Innovative, creative, and provocative."
-Davarian Baldwin, Paul E. Raether Distinguished Professor of American Studies, Trinity College

Praise / Awards

" Embodying Black Experience is performance studies scholarship at its engaged and engaging best."
- Theatre Journal

"Performance studies scholarship at its engaged and engaging best. Harvey Young's book contributes valuable detailed local readings of several sites of academic debate... a very significant contribution to our understanding of the performance of race, the performance of memory, and the phenomenology of the body."
- Theatre Journal

"Young provides an excellent rendering of the "black body" as screen for racializing projection, demonstrating how contemporary Americans "continue to share in the experiences of their ancestors who were viewed as 'other,' unjustly incarcerated, and subjected to limitless violence."
- Choice, T. F. DeFrantz, Duke University (Highly Recommended)

"Providing singularly fresh new readings of some of the ur-texts of African American studies ... Harvey Young's Embodying Black Experience also forge[s] new ground by placing these works in conversation with offerings that have as yet garnered scant scholarly attention."
--American Literature

"The innovative approaches to the Agassiz daguerrotypes... speak to important points of similarity and difference in current studies of early African American photography."
- American Studies

Winner of the National Communication Association's Lilla A. Heston Award for Outstanding Scholarship in Interpretation and Performance Studies, 2011

Winner of the Errol Hill Award from the American Society for Theatre Research

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In 1901, George Ward, a lynching victim, was attacked, murdered, and dismembered by a mob of white men, women, and children. As his lifeless body burned in a fire, enterprising white youth cut off his toes and, later, his fingers and sold them as souvenirs. In Embodying Black Experience , Harvey...

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Chapter 5: The Lived Experience of the Black Man

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Chapter 5: The Lived Experience of the Black Man

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Excerpt

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Chapter One
The Black Man and Language

We attach a fundamental importance to the phenomenon of language and consequently consider the study of language essential for providing us with one element in understanding the black man's dimension of being-for-others, it being understood that to speak is to exist absolutely for the other.

The black man possesses two dimensions: one with his fellow Blacks, the other with the Whites. A black man behaves differently with a white man than he does with another black man. There is no doubt whatsoever that this fissiparousness is a direct consequence of the colonial undertaking. Nobody dreams of challenging the fact that its principal inspiration is nurtured by the core of theories which represent the black man as the missing link in the slow evolution from ape to man. These are objective facts that state reality.

But once we have taken note of the situation, once we have understood it, we consider the job done. How can we possibly not hear that voice again tumbling down the steps of History: "It's no longer a question of knowing the world, but of transforming it."

This question is terribly present in our lives.

To speak means being able to use a certain syntax and possessing the morphology of such and such a language, but it means above all assuming a culture and bearing the weight of a civilization.

Since the situation is not one-sided, the study should reflect this. We would very much like to be given credit for certain points that, however unacceptable they may appear early on, will prove to be factually accurate.

The problem we shall tackle in this chapter is as follows: the more the black Antillean assimilates the French language, the whiter he gets-i.e., the closer he comes to becoming a true human being. We are fully aware that this is one of man's attitudes faced with Being. A man who possesses a language possesses as an indirect consequence the world expressed and implied by this language. You can see what we are driving at: there is an extraordinary power in the possession of a language. Paul Val"ry knew this, and described language as "The god gone astray in the flesh."

In a work in progress we propose to study this phenomenon. For the time being we would like to demonstrate why the black Antillean, whoever he is, always has to justify his stance in relation to language. Going one step farther, we shall enlarge the scope of our description to include every colonized subject.

All colonized people-in other words, people in whom an inferiority complex has taken root, whose local cultural originality has been committed to the grave-position themselves in relation to the civilizing language: i.e., the metropolitan culture. The more the colonized has assimilated the cultural values of the metropolis, the more he will have escaped the bush. The more he rejects his blackness and the bush, the whiter he will become. In the colonial army, and particularly in the regiments of Senegalese soldiers, the "native" officers are mainly interpreters. They serve to convey to their fellow soldiers the master's orders, and they themselves enjoy a certain status.

There is the town, there is the country. There is the capital, there are the provinces. Apparently, the problem is the same. Take an inhabitant of Lyon in Paris. He will boast of how calm his city is, how bewitchingly beautiful are the banks of the Rhône, how magnificent are the plane trees, and so many other things that people with nothing to do like to go on about. If you meet him on his return from Paris, and especially if you've never been to the capital, he'll never stop singing its praises: Paris, City of Light; the Seine; the riverside dance cafés; see Paris and die.

The same process repeats itself in the case of the Martinican. First, there is his island: Basse Pointe, Marigot, Gros Morne, in opposition to the imposing city of Fort-de-France. Then-and this is the essential point-there is what lies beyond his island. The black man who has been to the métropole is a demigod. On this subject I shall indicate a fact that must have struck my fellow islanders. After a fairly long stay in the métropole, many Antilleans return home to be deified. The native islander who has never left his hole, the country bumpkin, adopts a most eloquent form of ambivalence toward them. The black man who has lived in France for a certain time returns home radically transformed. Genetically speaking, his phenotype undergoes an absolute, definitive mutation. Even before he leaves one senses from his almost aerial way of walking that new forces have been set in motion. When he meets a friend or colleague, gone is the expansive bear hug; instead our "future" candidate bows discreetly. The usually raucous voice gives way to a hushed murmur. For he knows that over there in France he will be stuck with a stereotype in Le Havre or Marseille: "I'm fwom Matinique; this is my vewy furst visit to Fwance"; he knows that what the poets call "divine cooing" (meaning Creole) is but a term midway between Creole and French. In the French Antilles the bourgeoisie does not use Creole, except when speaking to servants. At school the young Martinican is taught to treat the dialect with contempt. Avoid Creolisms. Some families forbid speaking Creole at home, and mothers call their children little ragamuffins for using it.

My mother wanted a memorandum sonIf you don't learn your history lessonYou'll not go to Sunday massIn your Sunday bestThis child will be the shame of usThis child will be our God damn itShut up I told you you have to speak FrenchThe French from FranceThe Frenchman's FrenchFrench French.

Yes I must watch my diction because that's how they'll judge me. He can't even speak French properly, they'll say with the utmost contempt.

Among a group of young Antilleans, he who can express himself, who masters the language, is the one to look out for: be wary of him; he's almost white. In France they say "to speak like a book." In Martinique they say "to speak like a white man."

The black man entering France reacts against the myth of the Martinican who swallows his r's. He'll go to work on it and enter into open conflict with it. He will make every effort not only to roll his r's, but also to make them stand out. On the lookout for the slightest reaction of others, listening to himself speak and not trusting his own tongue, an unfortunately lazy organ, he will lock himself in his room and read for hours-desperately working on his diction.

Recently, a friend told us this story. On arrival in Le Havre a Martinican goes into a café and calls out with great assurance: "Waiterrrr? Bwing me a dwink of beerrrr!" This is a case of genuine intoxication. Anxious not to correspond to the black man who swallows his r's, he makes use of a great many of them but doesn't know how to divide them out.

There is a psychological phenomenon that consists in believing the world will open up as borders are broken down. The black Antillean, prisoner on his island, lost in an atmosphere without the slightest prospect, feels the call of Europe like a breath of fresh air. For we must admit that Césaire was overly generous in his Notebook of a Return to My Native Land. The city of Fort-de-France is truly lackluster and shipwrecked. Over there on the slopes of the sun is "the city-flat, sprawled, tripped up by its common sense, inert, winded under the geometric weight of its eternally renewed cross, at odds with its fate, mute, baffled, unable to circulate the pith of this ground, embarrassed, lopped, reduced, cut off from fauna and flora."

Césaire's description has nothing poetical about it. It is easy to understand therefore why the black man, on the announcement of his entry into France (as is said of someone entering "high society"), is overjoyed and decides to change. Moreover, there is nothing thematic about this change that is structural and independent of any introspection. In the United States, Pearce and Williamson have conducted an experiment called the Peckham experiment. The authors have proved that there is a biochemical modification in a married couple, and apparently they have detected in the husband certain hormones of his pregnant wife. It would be interesting (and there will always be somebody willing) to make a study of the black man's humoral mutation on entering France. Or simply study his psyche before he leaves and then one month after settling in France.

There is a dramatic conflict in what is commonly called the human sciences. Should we postulate a typical human reality and describe its psychic modalities, taking into account only the imperfections, or should we not rather make a constant, solid endeavor to understand man in an ever-changing light?

When we read that a man loses his affective faculties starting at the age of twenty-nine and he has to wait until he is forty-nine to regain them, we feel the ground give way beneath our feet. Our only hope of getting out of the situation is to pose the problem correctly, for all these findings and all this research have a single aim: to get man to admit he is nothing, absolutely nothing-and get him to eradicate this narcissism whereby he thinks he is different from the other "animals."

This is nothing more nor less than the capitulation of man.

All in all, I grasp my narcissism with both hands and I reject the vileness of those who want to turn man into a machine. If the debate cannot be opened up on a philosophical level-i.e., the fundamental demands of human reality-I agree to place it on a psychoanalytical level: in other words, the "misfires," just as we talk about an engine misfiring.

The black man entering France changes because for him the métropole is the holy of holies; he changes not only because that's where his knowledge of Montesquieu, Rousseau, and Voltaire comes from, but also because that's where his doctors, his departmental superiors, and innumerable little potentates come from-from the staff sergeant "fifteen years on the job" to the gendarme from Panissiéres. There is a kind of spell cast from afar, and the black man who leaves in one week for the métropole creates an aura of magic around him where the words Paris, Marseille, the Sorbonne, and Pigalle represent the high points. On departure, the amputation of his being vanishes as the ocean liner comes into view. He can read the authority and mutation he has acquired in the eyes of those accompanying him to the ship: "Adieu madras, adieu foulard."

Now that we have accompanied him to the port, let him sail away, and we'll come back to him later on. Let us now go and meet one of those who have returned home. The new returnee, as soon as he sets foot on the island, asserts himself; he answers only in French and often no longer understands Creole. A folktale provides us with an illustration of this. After having spent several months in France a young farmer returns home. On seeing a plow, he asks his father, an old don't-pull-that-kind-of-thing-on-me peasant: "What's that thing called?" By way of an answer his father drops the plow on his foot, and his amnesia vanishes. Awesome therapy.

So here is our new returnee. He can no longer understand Creole; he talks of the Opera House, which he has probably seen only from a distance; but most of all he assumes a critical attitude toward his fellow islanders. He reacts differently at the slightest pretext. He knows everything. He proves himself through his language. On the Savanna in Fort-de-France, a meeting place for young people, the new returnee is given the floor for a purpose.

As soon as school's out, they all gather on the Savanna. Imagine a square 600 feet long and 120 feet wide, lined by worm-eaten tamarind trees down each side; at the top the huge war memorial, acknowledging the mother country's gratitude to her children; and at the bottom the Central Hotel-a square twisted with uneven paving stones and gravel that crunches underfoot, and walking up and down in it 300 or 400 young people, greeting one another, making contact, no, never making contact, then walking on.

"Hi, how's it going?"

"Hi, how's it going?"

"Hi, how's it going?"

And that's been going on for fifty years. Yes, this town is a lamentable shipwreck. This life too.

They meet and talk. And the new returnee is quickly given the floor because they are waiting for him. First of all regarding form: the slightest mistake is seized upon, scrutinized, and in less than forty-eight hours it will be all over Fort-de-France. There is no forgiving the Martinican flaunting his superiority for failing his duty. Let him say, for instance: "I did not have the good fortune, when in France, of seeing gendarmes on horses' backs," and he is lost. His only choice is either to get rid of his Parisian affectation or to die of ridicule. For people will never forget; once married, his wife will realize she has married a joke, and his children will have to deal with and live down the tale.

Where does this change of personality come from? What can this new way of being be ascribed to? Any idiom is a way of thinking, Damourette and Pichon said. And the fact that the newly returned Martinican adopts a language different from that of the community in which he was born is evidence of a shift and a split. Professor Westermann writes in The African Today that the feeling of inferiority by Blacks is especially evident in the educated black man who is constantly trying to overcome it. The method used, Westermann adds, is often naive: "The wearing of European clothes, whether rags or the most up-to-date style; using European furniture and European forms of social intercourse; adorning the native language with European expressions; using bombastic phrases in speaking or writing a European language; all these contribute to a feeling of equality with the European and his achievements."

By referring to other research and our personal observations, we would like to try to show why the black man posits himself in such a characteristic way with regard to European languages. We recall once again that our findings are valid for the French Antilles; we are well aware, however, that this same behavior can be found in any race subjected to colonization.

We have known, and unfortunately still know, comrades from Dahomey or the Congo who say they are Antillean; we have known, and still know, Antilleans who get annoyed at being taken for Senegalese. It's because the Antillean is more "évolué" than the African-meaning he is closer to the white man-and this difference exists not only on the street or along the boulevard, but also in the administration and the army. Any Antillean who has done military service in a colonial regiment of infantry is familiar with this distressing situation: on one side, the Europeans and the French Antilleans; and on the other, the Africans. I can remember once when in the heat of action a nest of enemy machine guns had to be wiped out. Three times the Senegalese were ordered out and three times they were forced back. Then one of the Senegalese asked why the toubabs didn't go. In such moments we no longer knew whether we were toubabs or "natives." For many Antilleans, however, the situation was by no mean distressing, but on the contrary quite normal. That would be the last straw, to put us with the niggers! The European despises the African, and the Antillean lords it as uncontested master over this black rabble. An extreme example, but nevertheless amusing, is the following: I was recently talking with a Martinican who was incensed that certain Guadeloupeans were passing for Martinican. But, he added, the mistake was rapidly detected; they are more savage than we are-meaning once again that they are farther removed from the white man. It is said that the black man likes to palaver, and whenever I pronounce the word "palaver" I see a group of boisterous children raucously and blandly calling out to the world: children at play insofar as playing can be seen as an initiation to life. The black man likes to palaver, and it is only a short step to a new theory that the black man is just a child. Psychoanalysts have a field day, and the word "orality" is soon pronounced.

But we have to look further. We cannot hope to cover the fundamental question of language here in its entirety. The remarkable research by Piaget has taught us to distinguish stages in its emergence, and the studies by Gelb and Goldstein have demonstrated that the function of language operates by steps and degrees. Here we are interested in the black man confronted by the French language. We would like to understand why the Antillean is so fond of speaking good French.

In his introduction to the Anthologie de la nouvelle poésie nègre et malgache Jean-Paul Sartre tells us that the black poet will turn against the French language, but this will not be the case for the Antilleans. In this respect I agree, moreover, with Michel Leiris, who recently wrote on the subject of Creole: "Still very much a popular language which everyone can speak more or less, except for the illiterate who speak it exclusively, Creole seems destined sooner or later to become a relic of the past, once education (however slow its progress, delayed by the too few schools, the shortage of public libraries, and the very low standard of living) is widely accessible to the underprivileged sectors of the population." And, adds the author: "For the poets I'm talking about here it's not a question of their turning themselves into "Antilleans"-along the lines of the picturesque Provençal model-by borrowing a language that, moreover, is devoid of any external influence, whatever might be its intrinsic qualities, but a question of asserting their personal integrity faced with Whites who are steeped in the worst racial prejudice and whose arrogance clearly proves to be unfounded."

There may be one Gilbert Gratiant writing in Creole, but admittedly he is a rare case. Besides, the poetic worth of such writing leaves much to be desired. On the other hand, great works have been translated from the Wolof and Fulani, and we have been reading Cheikh Anta Diop's linguistic research with great interest.

There is nothing comparable in the French Antilles. The official language is French; elementary-school teachers keep a close eye on their pupils to make sure they are not speaking Creole. We will not go into the reasons why. The problem perhaps lies in the fact that in the Antilles, as in Brittany, there is a dialect and there is the French language. But that can't be right, because the Bretons do not consider themselves inferior to the French. The Bretons were never civilized by the Whites.

By refusing to multiply elements we run the risk of not staying in focus. It is important, however, to tell the black man that an attitude of open rupture has never saved anybody; and although it is true that I must free myself from my strangler because I cannot breathe, nevertheless it is unhealthy to graft a psychological element (the impossibility of expanding) onto a physiological base (the physical difficulty of breathing).

What does this mean? Quite simply this: when an Antillean with a degree in philosophy says he is not sitting for the agrégation because of his color, my response is that philosophy never saved anybody. When another desperately tries to prove to me that the black man is as intelligent as any white man, my response is that neither did intelligence save anybody, for if equality among men is proclaimed in the name of intelligence and philosophy, it is also true that these concepts have been used to justify the extermination of man.

Before continuing I believe it necessary to say one or two things. I am speaking here on the one hand of alienated (mystified) Blacks, and on the other of no less alienated (mystifying and mystified) Whites. Although only Sartre and Cardinal Verdier have said that the scandal of the black question has gone on far too long, we must conclude that their attitude is right. We too could give multiple references and quotations showing that "color prejudice" is indeed an idiocy and an iniquity that must be eradicated.

Sartre begins his Black Orpheus thus: "What would you expect to find when the muzzle that has silenced the voices of black men is removed? That they would thunder your praise? When these heads that our fathers have forced to the very ground are risen, do you expect to read adoration in their eyes?" All I know is that anyone who tries to read in my eyes anything but a perpetual questioning won't see a thing-neither gratitude nor hatred. And if I utter a great shout, it won't be black. No, from the point of view adopted here, there is no black problem. Or at least if there is one, the Whites are only accidentally interested. Our history takes place in obscurity and the sun I carry with me must lighten every corner.

Dr. H. L. Gordon, physician at the Mathari psychiatric hospital in Nairobi, writes in an article in the East African Medical Journal: "A highly technical skilled examination of a series of 100 brains of normal natives has found naked eye and microscopic facts indicative of inherent new brain inferiority."

"Quantitatively," he adds, "the inferiority amounts to 14.8 percent."

We have said that the black man was the missing link between the ape and man-the white man, of course-and only on page 108 of his book does Sir Alan Burns come to the conclusion, "We are unable to accept as scientifically proven the theory that the black man is inherently inferior to the white, or that he comes from a different stock." Let us add it would be easy to prove the absurdity of such statements as: "The Bible says that the black and white races shall be separated in Heaven as they are on earth, and the natives admitted to the Kingdom of Heaven will find themselves separated to certain of our Father's mansions mentioned in the New Testament." Or else: "We are the chosen people; look at the color of our skin; others are black or yellow because of their sins."

By appealing, therefore, to our humanity-to our feelings of dignity, love, and charity-it would be easy to prove and have acknowledged that the black man is equal to the white man. But that is not our purpose. What we are striving for is to liberate the black man from the arsenal of complexes that germinated in a colonial situation. Monsieur Achille, a teacher at the Lycée du Parc in Lyon, cited a personal experience during his lecture. It is a universally familiar experience. Few black people living in France have not experienced it. As a Roman Catholic, he took part in a pilgrimage. Seeing a black face among his flock, the priest asked him: "Why you left big savanna and why you come with us?" Achille answered most politely, and in this story it wasn't the young deserter of the savanna who was the most embarrassed. Everyone laughed at the exchange and the pilgrimage continued. But if we stop to reflect, we realize that the priest's usage of pidgin calls for several remarks.

1. "I know black people; you have to talk to them kindly, talk to them about their country; knowing how to talk to them, that's the key. Now here's what you have to do . . ." This is no exaggeration. A white man talking to a person of color behaves exactly like a grown-up with a kid, simpering, murmuring, fussing, and coddling. It's not just one white person we have observed, but hundreds; and our observations were not limited to one category; insisting on a fundamentally objective attitude, we studied such behavior in physicians, police officers, and foremen on work sites. People will tell us, forgetting our aim, that we could have focused our attention elsewhere, and that there are Whites who do not fit our description.

Our answer to these objections is that here we are picking holes with the mystified, the mystifiers, or the alienated, and that if there are Whites who interact sanely with Blacks, those are precisely the cases that will not be taken into account. It's not because my patient's liver is functioning normally that his kidneys are healthy. Since his liver is found to be working normally, it's only normal for me to leave it at that and turn my attention to the kidneys. In other words, alongside normal people behaving rationally according to human psychology, there are those who behave pathologically according to an inhuman psychology. And it so happens that the existence of such a type of person has determined a number of realities that we would like to help eliminate in this study.

Speaking to black people in this way is an attempt to reach down to them, to make them feel at ease, to make oneself understood and reassure them.

Consulting physicians know this. Twenty European patients come and go: "Please have a seat. Now what's the trouble? What can I do for you today?"

In comes a black man or an Arab: "Sit down, old fellow. Not feeling well? Where's it hurting?" When it's not: "You not good?"

2. To speak gobbledygook to a black man is insulting, for it means he is the gook. Yet, we'll be told, there is no intention to willfully give offense. OK, but it is precisely this absence of will-this offhand manner; this casualness; and the ease with which they classify him, imprison him at an uncivilized and primitive level-that is insulting.

If the person who speaks to a man of color or an Arab in pidgin does not see that there is a flaw or a defect in his behavior, then he has never paused to reflect. At a personal level, during certain consultations, I have felt myself lapsing.

In the company of this seventy-three-year-old peasant afflicted with senile dementia I suddenly feel I am losing my touch. The very fact of adopting a language suitable for dementia and the mentally retarded, the fact of "leaning over" to address this poor seventy-three-year-old woman, the fact of my reaching down to her for a diagnosis are the signs of a weakening in my relations with other people.

He's an idealist, they'll say. Not at all; it's the others who are the scumbags. I always make a point of speaking to the "towelheads" in correct French and I have always been understood. They answer as best they can, but I refuse to indulge in any form of paternalism.

"Hey, no feel good? Show me! Belly pain? Heart hurting?" Said in that accent that the hospital interns know all too well.

They have a clear conscience when the answer comes back along the same lines. "You see, I told you so. That's how they are."

In the opposite case, you need to retract your pseudopodia and behave like a man. The entire foundation collapses. A black man who says: "I object, sir, to you calling me 'my old fellow.'" Now there's something new.

But we can go even lower. You're sitting in a café in Rouen or Strasbourg and you have the misfortune to be spotted by an old drunk. He makes a beeline for your table: "You African? Dakar, Rufisque, whorehouse, women, coffee, mangoes, bananas . . ." You get up and leave; you are greeted with a hail of insults: "You didn't play big shot like that in your jungle, filthy nigger!"

Mr. Mannoni has described what he calls the Prospero complex. We shall return later to these findings that will allow us to understand the psychology of colonialism. But it is already safe to say that to speak pidgin means: "You, stay where you are."

When I meet a German or a Russian speaking bad French I try to indicate through gestures the information he is asking for, but in doing so I am careful not to forget that he has a language of his own, a country, and that perhaps he is a lawyer or an engineer back home. Whatever the case, he is a foreigner with different standards.

There is nothing comparable when it comes to the black man. He has no culture, no civilization, and no "long historical past."

Perhaps that is why today's Blacks want desperately to prove to the white world the existence of a black civilization.

Whether he likes it or not, the black man has to wear the livery the white man has fabricated for him. Look at children's comic books: all the Blacks are mouthing the ritual "Yes, boss." In films the situation is even more acute. Most of the American films dubbed in French reproduce the grinning stereotype Y a bon Banania. In one of these recent films, Steel Sharks, there is a black guy on a submarine speaking the most downright classic dialect imaginable. Furthermore, he is a true nigger, walking behind the quartermaster, trembling at the latter's slightest fit of anger, and is killed in the end. I am convinced, however, that in the original version he did not have this way of expressing himself. And even if he did I can't see why in a democratic France, where 60 million citizens are colored, anyone would dub the same idiocies from America. The reason is that the black man has to be portrayed in a certain way, and the same stereotype can be found from the black man in Sans pitié-"Me work hard, me never lie, me never steal"-to the servant in Duel in the Sun.

All they ask of the black man is to be a good nigger; the rest will follow on its own. Making him speak pidgin is tying him to an image, snaring him, imprisoning him as the eternal victim of his own essence, of a visible appearance for which he is not responsible. And of course, just as the Jew who is lavish with his money is suspect, so the black man who quotes Montesquieu must be watched. Let me make myself clear: "watched" insofar as he might start something. I do not contend that the black student is suspect to his peers or his professors. But outside university circles there is an army of fools. It is a question not of educating them but of teaching the black man not to be a slave of their archetypes.

Granted, these fools are the product of a psychological-economic structure. But that does not get us anywhere.

When a black man speaks of Marx, the first reaction is the following: "We educated you and now you are turning against your benefactors. Ungrateful wretches! You'll always be a disappointment." And then there's that sledgehammer argument from the plantation owners in Africa: our enemy is the elementary-school teacher.

The fact is that the European has a set idea of the black man, and there is nothing more exasperating than to hear: "How long have you lived in France? You speak such good French."

It could be argued that this is due to the fact that a lot of black people speak pidgin. But that would be too easy. You're traveling by train and ask:

"Excuse me, could you please tell me where the restaurant car is?"

"Yes, sonny boy, you go corridor, you go straight, go one car, go two car, go three car, you there."

Let's be serious. Speaking pidgin means imprisoning the black man and perpetuating a conflictual situation where the white man infects the black man with extremely toxic foreign bodies. There is nothing more sensational than a black man speaking correctly, for he is appropriating the white world. I often have conversations with foreign students. They speak French badly. Little Robinson Crusoe, alias Prospero, is in his element. He explains, informs, comments, and helps them with their studies. But with the black man, he is utterly stupefied; the black man has put himself on an equal footing; the game is no longer possible; he's a pure replica of the white man, who has to surrender to the facts.

After everything that has just been said, it is easy to understand why the first reaction of the black man is to say no to those who endeavor to define him. It is understandable that the black man's first action is a reaction, and since he is assessed with regard to his degree of assimilation, it is understandable too why the returning Antillean speaks only French: because he is striving to underscore the rift that has occurred. He embodies a new type of man whom he imposes on his colleagues and family. His old mother no longer understands when he speaks of her pj's, her ramshackle dump, and her lousy joint. All that embellished with the appropriate accent.

In every country in the world there are social climbers, those who think they've arrived. And opposite them there are those who keep the notion of their origins. The Antillean returning from the métropole speaks in Creole if he wants to signify that nothing has changed. It can be sensed on the docks where friends and relatives are waiting for him-waiting for him not only in the literal sense, but in the sense of waiting to catch him out. They need only one minute to make their diagnosis. If he says: "I am so happy to be back among you. Good Lord, it's so hot in this place; I'm not sure I can put up with it for long," they have been forewarned-it's a European who's come back.

In a different respect, when a group of Antillean students meet in Paris they have two options:

Either support the white world-i.e., the real world-and with the help of French be able to address certain issues and aim at a certain degree of universalism in their conclusions.

Or reject Europe, "Yo," and come together thanks to Creole by settling comfortably in what we'll call the Martinican Umwelt. By this we mean-and this goes especially for our Antillean brothers-that when one of our comrades in Paris or another university town attempts to address a problem in all seriousness he is accused of putting on airs, and the best way of disarming him is to brandish the Antilles and shift into Creole. This is one of the reasons why so many friendships fall through after a few months of life in Europe.

Since our argument is the disalienation of Blacks, we would like them to realize that every time there is a break-down in understanding among themselves faced with the white world, there is a lack of judgment.

A Senegalese who learns Creole to pass for an Antillean is a case of alienation.

The Antilleans who make a mockery out of him are lacking in judgment.

As we have seen, we are not mistaken in thinking that a study of the Antillean's language can reveal several characteristics of his world. As we said at the beginning, there are mutual supports between language and the community.

To speak a language is to appropriate its world and culture. The Antillean who wants to be white will succeed, since he will have adopted the cultural tool of language. I can remember just over a year ago in Lyon, following a lecture where I had drawn a parallel between black and European poetry, a French comrade telling me enthusiastically: "Basically, you're a white man." The fact I had studied such an interesting question in the white man's language gave me my credentials.

It should be understood that historically the black man wants to speak French, since it is the key to open doors which only fifty years ago still remained closed to him. The Antillean who falls within our description goes out of his way to seek the subtleties and rarities of the language-a way of proving to himself that he is culturally adequate.11 It has been said that the Antillean orator has a power of expression which leaves the Europeans gasping. In 1945, during an electoral campaign, Aimé Césaire, who was running for parliament, was speaking at a boys' school in Fort-de-France in front of a packed auditorium. In the middle of his talk a woman fainted. The next day a colleague describing the event commented: "His French was so dynamite the woman fell to the floor and started ketching malkadi." The power of language.

A few other facts deserve closer attention-for instance, M. Charles-André Julien introducing Aimé Césaire as a "black poet with a university agrégation" or else quite simply the expression "a great black poet."

These ready-made phrases that seem to be commonsense-after all Aimé Césaire is black and a poet-contain a hidden nuance, a persisting crux. I know nothing about Jean Paulhan except that he writes interesting books. I have no idea how old Roger Caillois is; the only evidence I have of him is when his presence streaks across the sky from time to time. And let no one accuse me of affective anaphylaxis. What I mean to say is that there is no reason why Monsieur Breton should say of Césaire: "Here is a black man who handles the French language unlike any white man today."

And even if Monsieur Breton were telling the truth, I don't see where the paradox lies; I don't see why there should be any emphasis, because after all Aimé Césaire is Martinican with a university agrégation.

Let us return to Michel Leiris:

If in the Antillean writer there is a desire to break with the literary forms associated with official education, such a desire, striving toward a freer future, would not assume the appearance of folklore. Seeking above all in literature to formulate a message that is their very own and, in the case of some of them at least, to be the spokesmen of a real race with unrecognized potential, they scorn the artifice which for them, whose intellectual education has been almost exclusively French, would represent recourse to a language they could only use as a second language they have learned.

But, Blacks will retort, we should be honored that a white man such as Breton writes such things about us.

Let us move on. . . .

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Black Skin, White Masks | Grove Atlantic

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Chapter One The Black Man and Language We attach a fundamental importance to the phenomenon of language and consequently consider the study of language essential for providing us with one element in understanding the black man's dimension of being-for-others, it being understood that to speak is to exist absolutely for the other.

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Woo, ey
Woo, ey

You can feel it in the streets
On a day like this, the heat
It feel like summer
I feel like summer
I feel like summer
You can feel it in the streets
On a day like this, the heat
I feel like summer (ey)
She feel like summer
This feel like summer
I feel like summer

Seven billion souls that move around the sun
Rolling faster, faster, not a chance to slow down
Slow down
Men who made machines that want what they decide
Parents tryna tell the children please slow down
Slow down

I know
Oh, I know you know that pain
I'm hopin' that this world will change
(Ooo, I hope this world will change)
But it just seems the same
(It feels like the same)

You can feel it in the streets
On a day like this, the heat
It feel like summer
(I feel like summer)
I feel like summer
(I feel like summer)
I feel like summer

Every day gets hotter than the one before
Running out of water, it's about to go down
Go down
Air that kill the bees that we depend upon
Birds were made for singing, wakin' up to no sound
No sound

I know
Oh, I know you know my pain (woah, no no no)
I'm hopin' that this world will change
(This world will change, yeah)
But it just seems the same (woah)

I know
Oh, I hope we change
I really thought this world could change
But it seems like the same

I know
Oh, my mind is still the same
I'm hoping that this world will change
But it just seems the same
I know
Oh, I hope we change

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https://youtu.be/F1B9Fk_SgI0

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Childish Gambino - Feels Like Summer (Official Video)

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https://wmgk.com/listicle/philadelphia-water-crisis/

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On Friday evening, an equipment failure released hazardous materials at the Trinseo Altuglas water treatment plant. More than 8,000 gallons of latex emulsion leaked into Otter Creek which flows into the Delaware River. The water way which supplies water to the eastern half of Philadelphia.

Below is a timeline of events and information released with the latest on top. We'll continue to update as news is released. Stay safe, Philly!

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Philadelphia Water Crisis Timeline & Latest Updates

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On Friday evening, an equipment failure released hazardous materials at the Trinseo Altuglas water treatment plant. More than 8,000 gallons of latex emulsion leaked into Otter Creek which flows into the Delaware River. The water way which supplies water to the eastern half of Philadelphia.

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https://www.plt.org/story/young-environmentalists-examples/

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When we were young, it was easy to think that we'd have to wait until we're older to make a difference since most of our role models were adults. As young environmental activist Ta'Kaiya Blaney said, "I always wanted to make a difference, but it was always along the lines of...when I grow up. It's sad that it has to be this way but I realize I don't have time to grow up before I want to make a change."

It's true - young students don't need to wait until they're older to make a difference. They can make real change now. Sometimes they just need to know it's possible.

Here are 13 inspiring stories that show what's possible when young environmentalists take action.

By the age of 16, Alex Lin had already influenced significant changes to reduce e-waste. After reading about e-waste in a Wall Street Journal article, he decided to take action.

Along with his community service team, Alex has overseen the recycling of 300,000 pounds of e-waste. They also successfully lobbied the Rhode Island state legislature to pass a bill in 2006 banning the dumping of e-waste. This bill paved the way for the producer responsibility bill, which passed in 2008, that puts more responsibility on electronic manufacturers.

The community service team's work has gone global. They've helped establish similar teams in countries such as the Philippines, Mexico, and Kenya to reduce local e-waste.

In Houston, Texas, the East End serves some of the poorest students in the district and was known for being a "food desert." Twenty local high school and college students have become "Green Ambassadors" since the program began three years ago. They have been trained and certified through Project Learning Tree's early childhood and PreK-8 environmental outdoor education, and are among the first high schoolers to do so. These young leaders use their new knowledge and skills to transform their community.

Their goal is to provide more than 100,000 residents with fresh, natural foods. Their urban gardens will also be home to local wildlife and pollinators. They're doing it by planting one fruit tree and one community garden at a time, linking their schools and neighborhoods to form a Houston East End Greenbelt.

In the fall of 2016, Furr High School won a $10 million grant through a new national contest sponsored by Lauren Powell Jobs to continue their work.

Growing up in the Curtis Bay neighborhood of Baltimore, many friends and family members of Destiny Watford suffered from asthma. She saw a link between the high rates of asthma and the air pollution from a local medical-waste incinerator, the coal pier, and several medical plants in the area.

When she was 17, a new solid-waste incinerator was scheduled to be built close to her high school. Destiny and a few other young people from her neighborhood pressured local officials to stop the project to prevent further air pollution from devastating their neighborhood. After three years of fighting, state regulators pulled the project's permit in March 2016, halting the project.

Destiny's work earned her the Goldman Environmental Prize for bringing attention to the consequences of environmental inequities. Now a college student, Destiny works for an organization called Free Your Voice and is working to reinstate air quality monitors in Curtis Bay.

The "Students for Sustainability" club at Port Townsend High School in Washington State has helped reforest two local habitats. After learning about the state of their local watersheds, the high school students wanted to help improve the habitat for wildlife and water quality. To plan their reforestation efforts, they partnered with the Jefferson Land Trust and the Northwest Watershed Institute.

The students served as crew leaders for the Northwest Watershed Institute's Plant-a-Thon events. Students from kindergarten through 8 th grade plant several thousand trees during the event. To date, they've planted over 7,000 trees!

Fourteen-year-old Ta'Kaiya Blaney from the Tla'amin First Nation in British Columbia has cared about the environment as long as she can remember. She's been singing since the age of four, and her songs about the environment have already gone viral. She has given speeches around the world, including Rio+20, TUNZA UN children and youth conference, the ONECA conference, and TEDxSFU. This young activist and singer is showing the world that the voices of youth deserve to be heard.

When Cole Rasenberger was in second grade, he was assigned a homework project to write a letter to a local official on an environmental issue. While researching potential topics, he discovered the Dogwood Alliance's website and learned that thousands of acres of North Carolina's coastal forests are being destroyed daily, endangering local animals and plants.

Instead of just writing a letter, 8-year-old Cole wanted to take on the paper packaging industry. He partnered with Dogwood Alliance and organized his elementary school to sign postcards to ask McDonald's to use recycled packaging. A few months and 2,500 handmade signed postcards later, McDonald's decided to use more post-recyclable fiber, including 100% recycled fibers in their bags.

This win motivated Cole to do more, and he was ready to take on KFC. He partnered with seven schools, got the attention of media venues, and hand delivered over 6,000 postcards to KFC's headquarters. It took several years before KFC agreed to use more recycled paper in its packaging, but Cole and the Dogwood Alliance didn't give up.

Students from Ben Franklin High School in Baltimore, Md., are taking action to restore one of the more polluted areas of the city. In partnership with the Baltimore Aquarium and the Shores of Baltimore Land Trust, students are helping to transform Masonville Cove. This site was known for illegal industrial dumping and is now a model environmental education center and bird sanctuary on 54 acres of reclaimed wetlands.

Students planted 3,000 trees and bushes on the site, constructed a native wetland pond, raise and transplant bay grass, and "planted" oysters in underwater cages to help filter the water.

As a bird-lover, 11-year-old Olivia Bouler wanted to take action after seeing the effects of the Deepwater Horizon Oil Spill. She partnered with the Audubon Society to sell over 500 paintings and sketches of bird species most affected by the spill. She raised over $200,000 for Gulf Coast relief efforts and released a book of her work to support Audubon's conversation mission.

St. Michael School middle school students in Livermore, Ca., were eager to address the issue of waste on campus. After receiving a GreenWorks grant from Project Learning Tree, they were able to implement a school-wide recycling program. They started by conducting a waste audit and established a plan to recycle different types of materials.

The students took the lead in designing posters, translating information into Spanish for the local Hispanic community, re-sorting trash as needed, and writing tips for students to take home to their families. In just one year, they reduced our trash removal costs by $1,200 and diverted about 40% of their waste from the landfill to composting and recycling centers.

Ryan Nitschke, Samantha Cuevas, Dianna Carreon, Fritz Perera, and Daniel Rivera, eighth-graders at School 28 in Jersey City, have designed a project to use drones to map the city's trees. Team D.R.O.N.E. (Drones Recording Our Natural Environment) pitched their project to classmates, teachers, and sponsors, and won $10,000 to implement their project through the national Lexus Eco Challenge.

The students attach 360-degree-angle cameras to drones to capture images and collect data on Jersey City's trees. They are sharing their data with local organizations to help monitor the health of local trees and to identify ideal locations to plant new trees. They are currently in the second round of collecting data, to be completed in February 2017.

A few dozen high school students at City Academy in Salt Lake City, Utah, converted their school bus to run on biodiesel. Students started discussing alternative fuels while studying global warming and pollution. That's when they came up with the idea of making their own biodiesel fuel from used vegetable oil for our school bus to reduce their school's CO2 emissions. They received a start-up grant from Toshiba and a GreenWorks grant from Project Learning Tree to work on the project.

Their first year, the bus ran over 3,000 miles on fuel from used vegetable oil collected from a local restaurant. They were invited to present their project at a Green Ambassadors conference in Los Angeles. And yes, they took their biodiesel-fueled bus to get there!

Under the guidance of science teacher Jane Orbuch, three high school students at San Lorenzo Valley High in California organized a local environmental conference. Science students Julianna Manseau, Kate Ussat, and Haile Davis set up the speakers, publicized the event, and worked with school personnel.

Both students and adults attended the conference, which featured presentations on their local watershed, ecosystem restoration, and the impact of regional droughts and higher temperatures. Sharing knowledge in these areas is a critical first step to making change, and these students are well on their way.

Xiuhtezcatl (pronounced 'Shoe-Tez-Caht') Martinez has been on the front lines of the youth-led environmental movement since the age of six when he began speaking around the world at venues such as the Rio+20 United Nations Summit and addressing the General Assembly at the United Nations in New York.

Currently the Youth Director of Earth Guardians, he has brought a lawsuit against the Obama administration for "their failure to protect the atmosphere and their future." He has also worked locally to eliminate pesticide use in parks, contain coal ash, and stop fracking. He has received many awards for his activism, and was the youngest member of President Obama's youth council.

At the age of eight, Greta Thunberg first learned about the climate crisis - and understood the need to take action to mitigate the effects before it was too late.

To spark change, Greta launched the School Strike for Climate in 2018 to encourage students to skip school and demand their governments take action to reduce their carbon footprint and combat the effects of climate change.

While in ninth grade, she staged a two-week strike outside the Swedish Parliament to demand the government cut emissions by 15% per year. Now on week 82, you can follow the updates of her strike on.

Greta's climate advocacy has led her to speak at the 2018 United Nations Climate Change Conference in Poland, lead more than 1 million students around the world to protest climate change inaction, receive a nomination for a Nobel Peace Prize, and be named Time Magazine's Person of the Year in 2019.

Do you know of any other young environmentalists doing great work? Please share in the comments!

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13 Inspiring Examples of Young Environmentalists Making a Difference - Project Learning Tree

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Young students don't need to wait until they're older to make a difference. Here are 13 inspiring stories that show what's possible when young environmentalists take action.

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https://education.nationalgeographic.org/resource/great-pacific-garbage-patch/

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The Great Pacific Garbage Patch is a collection of marine debris in the North Pacific Ocean. Marine debris is litter that ends up in oceans, seas, and other large bodies of water.

The area in the center of a gyre tends to be very calm and stable. The circular motion of the gyre draws debris into this stable center, where it becomes trapped. A plastic water bottle discarded off the coast of California, for instance, takes the California Current south toward Mexico. There, it may catch the North Equatorial Current, which crosses the vast Pacific. Near the coast of Japan, the bottle may travel north on the powerful Kuroshiro Current. Finally, the bottle travels eastward on the North Pacific Current. The gently rolling vortexes of the Eastern and Western Garbage Patches gradually draw in the bottle.

The amount of debris in the Great Pacific Garbage Patch accumulates because much of it is not biodegradable. Many plastics, for instance, do not wear down; they simply break into tinier and tinier pieces.

For many people, the idea of a "garbage patch" conjures up images of an island of trash floating on the ocean. In reality, these patches are almost entirely made up of tiny bits of plastic, called microplastics. Microplastics can't always be seen by the naked eye. Even satellite imagery doesn't show a giant patch of garbage. The microplastics of the Great Pacific Garbage Patch can simply make the water look like a cloudy soup. This soup is intermixed with larger items, such as fishing gear and shoes.

The seafloor beneath the Great Pacific Garbage Patch may also be an underwater trash heap. Oceanographers and ecologists recently discovered that about 70 percent of marine debris actually sinks to the bottom of the ocean.
Marine Debris
80 percent of plastic in the ocean is estimated to come from land-based sources, with the remaining 20 percent coming from boats and other marine sources. These percentages vary by region, however. A 2018 study found that synthetic fishing nets made up nearly half the mass of the Great Pacific Garbage Patch, due largely to ocean current dynamics and increased fishing activity in the Pacific Ocean.

While many different types of trash enter the ocean, plastics make up the majority of marine debris for two reasons. First, plastic's durability, low cost, and malleability mean that it's being used in more and more consumer and industrial products. Second, plastic goods do not biodegrade but instead, break down into smaller pieces.

In the ocean, the sun breaks down these plastics into tinier and tinier pieces, a process known as photodegradation. Most of this debris comes from plastic bags, bottle caps, plastic water bottles, and Styrofoam cups.

Marine debris can be very harmful to marine life in the gyre. For instance, loggerhead sea turtles often mistake plastic bags for jellies, their favorite food. Albatrosses mistake plastic resin pellets for fish eggs and feed them to chicks, which die of starvation or ruptured organs.

Seals and other marine mammals are especially at risk. They can get entangled in abandoned plastic fishing nets, which are being discarded largely due to inclement weather and illegal fishing. Seals and other mammals often drown in these forgotten nets-a phenomenon known as "ghost fishing."

Marine debris can also disturb marine food webs in the North Pacific Subtropical Gyre. As microplastics and other trash collect on or near the surface of the ocean, they block sunlight from reaching plankton and algae below. Algae and plankton are the most common autotrophs, or producers, in the marine food web. Autotrophs are organisms that can produce their own nutrients from carbon and sunlight.

If algae and plankton communities are threatened, the entire food web may change. Animals that feed on algae and plankton, such as fish and turtles, will have less food. If populations of those animals decrease, there will be less food for apex predators such as tuna, sharks, and whales. Eventually, seafood becomes less available and more expensive for people.

These dangers are compounded by the fact that plastics both leach out and absorb harmful pollutants. As plastics break down through photodegradation, they leach out colorants and chemicals, such as bisphenol A (BPA), that have been linked to environmental and health problems. Conversely, plastics can also absorb pollutants, such as PCBs, from the seawater. These chemicals can then enter the food chain when consumed by marine life.
Patching Up the Patch
Cleaning up marine debris is not as easy as it sounds. Many microplastics are the same size as small sea animals, so nets designed to scoop up trash would catch these creatures as well. Even if we could design nets that would just catch garbage, the size of the oceans makes this job far too time-consuming to consider. The National Ocean and Atmospheric Administration's Marine Debris Program has estimated that it would take 67 ships one year to clean up less than one percent of the North Pacific Ocean.

Many expeditions have traveled through the Great Pacific Garbage Patch. Charles Moore, who discovered the patch in 1997, continues to raise awareness through his own environmental organization, the Algalita Marine Research Foundation. During a 2014 expedition, Moore and his team used aerial drones, to assess from above the extent of the trash below. The drones determined that there is 100 times more plastic by weight than previously measured. The team also discovered more permanent plastic features, or islands, some over 15 meters (50 feet) in length.

All the floating plastic in the Great Pacific Garbage Patch inspired National Geographic Emerging Explorer David de Rothschild and his team at Adventure Ecology to create a large catamaran made of plastic bottles: the . The sturdiness of the Plastiki displayed the strength and durability of plastics, the creative ways that they can be repurposed, and the threat they pose to the environment when they don't decompose. In 2010, the crew successfully navigated the Plastiki from San Francisco, California, to Sydney, Australia.

Scientists and explorers agree that limiting or eliminating our use of disposable plastics and increasing our use of biodegradable resources will be the best way to clean up the Great Pacific Garbage Patch. Organizations such as the Plastic Pollution Coalition and the Plastic Oceans Foundation are using social media and direct action campaigns to support individuals, manufacturers, and businesses in their transition from toxic, disposable plastics to biodegradable or reusable materials.

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The Great Pacific Garbage Patch is a collection of marine debris in the North Pacific. Marine debris is litter that ends up in the ocean, seas, and other large bodies of water.

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https://www.nrdc.org/stories/flint-water-crisis-everything-you-need-know

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Flint Water Crisis: Everything You Need to Know

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After officials repeatedly dismissed claims that Flint’s water was making people sick, residents took action. Here’s how the lead contamination crisis unfolded—and what we can learn from it.

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https://disasterphilanthropy.org/disasters/jackson-mississippi-water-crisis/

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The intersection of two disasters - infrastructure failure and river flooding - exacerbated a pre-existing water crisis in Jackson, Mississippi.

In mid-to-late August 2022, heavy rains led to flooding along the Pearl River watershed. While the Pearl was predicted to overtop, it crested below the major flood stage of 36 feet at 35.37 feet . This prevented the large-scale evacuations and extensive damages that were expected. However, localized flooding damaged one of the water treatment plants leading to an inability to produce sufficient water pressure at the O.B. Curtis treatment plant. This was combined with a malfunction of the pumps at the J.H. Fewell treatment plant.

Water pressure was restored in Jackson on Sept. 5, but the ongoing boil water advisory remained in effect until Sept. 15. This will mark the first time in almost seven weeks that residents should be able to drink the water in their homes, without boiling it beforehand. In the absence of drinking water, the state distributed approximately 12 million bottles of water.

On Oct. 28, Governor Tate Reeves extended the state of emergency until Nov. 22. In his press release, he stated, "Since I first declared a State of Emergency on August 30, the state has invested nearly $13 million to prop up Jackson's failing water system, distribute water, and restore clean running water to the residents of the city. Over this time, the state of Mississippi entered the O.B. Curtis Water Treatment Plant, identified the rampant issues that existed due to years of neglect, and immediately began repair operations. Jackson's mayor has announced that the city will have a private operator in place by November 17, stating, 'we anticipate having a contract in place by November 17th.' Recognizing this, I have decided to end the emergency on November 22, to allow for a five-day transition period between the state's management team and the chosen private operator. At that point, the State of Emergency must, by statute, end as the water system can be managed solely by local control, as has been insisted upon by the City of Jackson. The State of Emergency must only exist when a situation is beyond local control and the City of Jackson has demanded local control."
(Photo: Workers from Jackson, Mississippi's water treatment plant install emergency rental pumps. Source: Twitter.com/tatereeves)

According to USA Today, "Like many cities, Jackson faces water system problems it can't afford to fix. Its tax base has eroded the past few decades as the population decreased - the result of mostly white flight to suburbs that began after public schools were integrated in 1970. The city's population is now more than 80% Black, with about 25% of its residents living in poverty."

VOX reported , " On the surface, the apparent cause of this crisis is damaged infrastructure ... 'Ideally, infrastructure serves as a shared foundation for economic, environmental, and public health between different neighborhoods and municipalities,' scholars at the Brookings Institution, a nonprofit research group,  wrote  in March 2021, after Jackson faced another severe water shortage. 'However, infrastructure is often poorly maintained or intentionally overlooked in particular places, leading to a lack of access, affordability, and safety for many communities of color.'

With a vulnerable water system, the city is also more susceptible to the impacts of extreme weather events like flooding, underscoring - like so many  other events  worldwide - how climate change often disproportionately  harms people of color and lower-income communities ."

But Jackson is not unique. It is merely but one example of the way climate change is impacting and highlighting the fragile nature of water infrastructure across the United States (and elsewhere).

ABC News reported , "Jackson, Mississippi, is not the first U.S. city to have a water crisis - nor is it likely to be the last. However, the city's crisis has highlighted the ongoing fight for access to clean drinking water, which continues to be at risk for Americans across the country. Many of the cities or regions experiencing poor water access or conditions are in predominantly Black or Hispanic communities, according to data from the U.S. Census Bureau."

" Historic flooding and record droughts are already stressing water systems across the country, but as the threats to infrastructure posed by climate change intensify, experts warn that what happened in Jackson may be just the beginning. 'The situation in Jackson is a cautionary tale, but the reality is that in 2022, communities across our country have experienced severe flooding as well as drought,' says Mami Hara, the CEO of US Water Alliance. Hara blames climate change and systemic disinvestment in water infrastructure across the country."

One example is the Hoover Dam on Lake Mead which has lost almost 79 feet of height in 22 years. The lake provides water across seven states, northern Mexico and tribal lands. " Data from the US space agency explains that 74 percent of the nine western states face some level of drought. For example, 83% of the state of Colorado is currently in drought."

A report issued by Dig Deep found that "more than 2.2 million Americans live without running water and basic indoor plumbing, and many more without sanitation." This situation is the worst for Native Americans with 58 out of 1,000 households lacking plumbing, compared with 3 in 1,000 white households. " This disparity has implications for public health. Native Americans experience more deaths, poverty and higher unemployment rates."

Access to clean water

Overcoming racial disinvestment

Immediate needs

Small businesses

Long-term needs

EPA involvement

Our Disaster Recovery Fund provides support for disaster-affected communities. Grants will be focused on supporting marginalized communities in the relief and recovery phase.

Support recovery now

Contact CDP

Philanthropic and Government Support

In October 2022, through funding from Google, two National Association of Free and Charitable Clinics in Jackson, Mississippi, received a grant ($100,000 total) from the Center for Disaster Philanthropy to support their patients in systemically marginalized populations in the city. By providing access to safe, clean water, hygiene supplies and continued healthcare, along with access to a network of community health workers, the clinics will support community recovery from the water and flooding crisis in this mostly minority state capital city.

Atlanta Braves outfielder Michael Harris II donated $23,000 toward youth recovery. He is working with Jackson Public Schools, Community Foundation of Mississippi, the Mississippi Braves and Hank Aaron Sports Academy.

Comcast NBCUniversal donated $50,000 to American Red Cross and set up an employee donation matching program for several local organizations.

Amazon Prime Video and Lowe's both made a donation of $100,000 to Jackson State University (JSU) "to help the university relocate student-athletes, source clean water, and provide community assistance." Lowe's also partnered with Coach Deion "Prime" Sanders' JSU football team to donate and distribute truckloads of bottled water. The Georgia-based non-profit Life Beyond Water also worked with Coach Prime to deliver truckloads of water to Jackson.

Following a request from Governor Tate Reeves, President Joe Biden issued an emergency declaration providing public assistance, category B, for Hinds County. Category B provides for emergency protective measures, "before, during, and after a disaster to save lives, protect public health and safety, and prevent damage to improved public health and safety, and prevent damage to improved public and private property." Biden did not issue a major disaster declaration. " An Emergency Declaration is more limited in scope and without the long-term federal recovery programs of a Major Disaster Declaration. Generally, federal assistance and funding are provided to meet a specific emergency need or to help prevent a major disaster from occurring." As of Nov. 16, 2022, almost $105,000 had been obligated.

White House press secretary Karine Jean-Pierre said, "FEMA is working closely with state officials to identify needs and that the EPA is coordinating with industry partners to 'expedite' the delivery of critical treatment equipment for emergency repairs at Jackson water treatment facilities ... that the City of Jackson is using over $20 million in American Rescue Plan to address water and sewer infrastructure needs ... the White House has also made about $75 million in Bipartisan Infrastructure Law funding available to provide clean and safe water across the state of Mississippi."

Rural Populations

Floods

Water, Sanitation and Hygiene (WASH)

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Jackson, Mississippi Water Crisis - Center for Disaster Philanthropy

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Jackson, Mississippi's infrastructure failure and river flooding has exacerbated a previous water crisis. Here's how donors can help.

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Mississippi without clean drinking water

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Mississippi without clean drinking water

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https://www.theguardian.com/us-news/2022/sep/01/jackson-mississippi-clean-drinking-water-flooding-problems

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‘All of a sudden it’s undrinkable’: why an entire US city has no clean water

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Jackson, Mississippi, lost access to safe running water after flooding – but it’s the capstone to years of problems with race a possible factor

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24 Hours of Reality: "Earthrise" by Amanda Gorman

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"Living in the Time Loop: Afrofuturism and Paranormal Activity" Lecture by A.D. Boynton II

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"Living in the Time Loop: Afrofuturism and Paranormal Activity" Lecture by A.D. Boynton II

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Living in the Time Loop: Afrofuturism and Paranormal Activity

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Dust Tracks on a Road by Zora Neale Hurston

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Dust Tracks on a Road by Zora Neale Hurston

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Revolutionary Mothering Edited by Dr. Alexis Pauline Gumbs 

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Revolutionary Mothering Edited by Dr. Alexis Pauline Gumbs 

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The Annotated African American Folktales by Dr. Henry Louis Gates and Maria Tatar

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The Annotated African American Folktales by Dr. Henry Louis Gates and Maria Tatar

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Working The Roots: Over 400 Years of Traditional African American Healing by Michele Elizabeth Lee

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Working The Roots: Over 400 Years of Traditional African American Healing by Michele Elizabeth Lee

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My Grandmother’s Hands by Resmaa Menakem

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My Grandmother’s Hands by Resmaa Menakem

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Skip content

Length 5 hours 26 minutes

Disrupt and push back against capitalism and white supremacy by connecting to the liberating power of rest, daydreaming, and naps as a foundation for healing and justice. Tricia Hersey, aka The Nap Bishop, encourages us to elevate rest as a form of resistance and a divine human right.

What would it be like to live in a well-rested world? Far too many of us have claimed productivity as the cornerstone of success. Brainwashed by capitalism, we subject our bodies and minds to work at an unrealistic, damaging, and machine‑level pace -- feeding into the same engine that enslaved millions into brutal labor for its own relentless benefit.

In Rest Is Resistance, Tricia Hersey, aka the Nap Bishop, casts an illuminating light on our troubled relationship with rest and how to imagine and dream our way to a future where rest is exalted. Our worth does not reside in how much we produce, especially not for a system that exploits and dehumanizes us. Rest, in its simplest form, becomes an act of resistance and a reclaiming of power because it asserts our most basic humanity. We are enough. The systems cannot have us.

Rest Is Resistance is rooted in spiritual energy and centered in Black liberation, womanism, somatics, and Afrofuturism. With captivating storytelling and practical advice, all delivered in Hersey's lyrical voice and informed by her deep experience in theology, activism, and performance art, Rest Is Resistance is a call to action, a battle cry, a field guide, and a manifesto for all of us who are sleep deprived, searching for justice, and longing to be liberated from the oppressive grip of Grind Culture.

Tricia Hersey is an artist, poet, theologian and community organizer. She is the founder of The Nap Ministry, an organization that examines rest as a form of resistance by curating sacred spaces for the community to rest via Collective Napping Experiences, immersive workshops, performance art installations, and social media. Tricia is a global pioneer and originator of the movement to understand the liberatory power of rest. She is the creator of the Rest is Resistance and Rest as Reparations frameworks. Her research interests include Black liberation theology, womanism, somatics, and cultural trauma. Tricia is a Chicago native and currently lives in South Georgia.

Tricia Hersey is an artist, poet, theologian and community organizer. She is the founder of The Nap Ministry, an organization that examines rest as a form of resistance by curating sacred spaces for the community to rest via Collective Napping Experiences, immersive workshops, performance art installations, and social media. Tricia is a global pioneer and originator of the movement to understand the liberatory power of rest. She is the creator of the Rest is Resistance and Rest as Reparations frameworks. Her research interests include Black liberation theology, womanism, somatics, and cultural trauma. Tricia is a Chicago native and currently lives in South Georgia.

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Reviews

"Lay your ass down and read this book right now! Rest Is Resistance is an inspiring, affirming and revolutionary balm. Tricia and the Nap Ministry's ethos have changed my life, and work, for the better and this manifesto is no different. With compassionate inquiry and actionable offerings, Tricia divinely guides us further into rest, ourselves, and our collective liberation."-Rachel Ricketts, spiritual activist and author of Do Better "This book will save lives and transform the world. Tricia Hersey speaks the truth about rest, a truth that begins our unraveling from the lies of white supremacy and capitalism. Gradually we refuse to live at a machine pace. We surrender to the beautiful experiment of being human. We return to our truest selves. This is a book to read again and again, slowly, savoring it sentence by sentence. I'll be giving copies to everyone I work with and everyone I love."-Emily Nagoski Ph.D., Bestselling author of Come As You Are and Burnout "If the rude stillness of rest is a sermon, Tricia Hersey is its underground prophet. Tricia's fierce insistence that rest is resistance is more than a plea for us to take occasional vacations, and nothing less than a spell masterfully crafted to evacuate us from the settlement politics of capture. Read this book. Then sleep, irreverently, knowing you shake worlds as you do." -Báyò Akómoláfé, Ph.D., author of These Wilds Beyond our Fences: Letters to My Daughter on Humanity's Search for Home "Vivid, deeply researched and moving... Hersey's manifesto towards radical restoration is lifegiving"-Glory Edim, author of On Girlhood and Well-Read Black Girl "Tricia Hersey's Nap Ministry changed my life. Rest Is Resistance is more than a book - it is one of the most vital interventions of our time."-Casey Gerald, author of There Will Be No Miracles Here " Rest Is Resistance left me feeling elated. This book reminds us that we are in charge of our restoration. In these pages, Tricia has offered us an invitation to take our power back." -Alexandra Elle, author of After the Rain and How We Heal "Sometimes the window is open and a breeze comes through singing a sweet song: it is nap time. Grandmother sits on the front porch; grandpapa cuts the grass. It is a song. You nap. I nap. The angels hug us. A book settles beside us. Rest Is Resistance. It is a war we will win."-Nikki Giovanni, Poet "With Rest Is Resistance, Tricia Hersey helps us understand that rest is how we can sustain ourselves as we awaken to the truth of the toxic systems of our times. She is not ahead of or above us in this journey, but right here in the midst of social media addiction and overwork and systemic frustration, shouting that she can see an opening. She offers us rest not instead of the incredible work we are doing, but as a way to undergird all our efforts against capitalism and white supremacy. She shows us that our dream space is sacred, and rest is how we reclaim access to the wisdom there. Naps and all kinds of rest are portals through which we return to ourselves. Tricia, sounding like an ancestor who is DONE seeing us suffer, is inviting us to join her and step on through."-adrienne maree brown, author of Emergent Strategy and Pleasure Activism "Over the span of several days, I read Rest Is Resistance as a meditative practice to alter my pace and ground my soul in this frenzied grind culture. Unlike other texts that list a litany of strategies to stave off exhaustion, Hersey presents a lullaby of liberation that frames rest as a portal for healing and imagination available to all. Once you open this book prepare to breathe more deeply and come to see the world more clearly. In the words of the Nap Bishop, 'The Doors of the Nap Temple are open. Won't you come?'"-Gregory C. Ellison II, Ph.D., Founder of Fearless Dialogues and Associate Professor at Emory University's Candler School of Theology "Tricia Hersey whispers 'rest is a form of resistance' to me, to you, to those who think resistance is always movement. Her message is essential: Sit. Lay down. Slow down. Rest is a necessary step in reclaiming our power to resist systemic oppression."-Ibram X. Kendi, author of How to Be an Antiracist and Stamped from the Beginning " Rest Is Resistance" is a clarion call for our generation. In this pioneering book, Tricia Hersey invites us all to opt out of "grind culture" and embrace our basic and sacred human right to self-care, relaxation, and rest. As Hersey makes clear, this revolutionary praxis is especially important for Black people who have historically and contemporarily been primarily valued for our labor. Ultimately, Hersey reminds us that leisure is not only a way to restore and rejuvenate, but it is also an act of resistance as we hurtle towards end-stage capitalism."-Bryant Terry, James Beard and NAACP Image award-winning author of Black Food and Editor-in-Chief of 4 Color Books Expand reviews

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Rest Is Resistance Audiobook on Libro.fm

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Disrupt and push back against capitalism and white supremacy by connecting to the liberating power of rest, daydreaming, and naps as a foundation for healing and justice. Tricia Hersey, aka The Nap Bishop, encourages us to elevate rest as a form of resistance and a divine human right.What would it be like to live in a well-rested world?

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 witchygoddesses on Instagram: "You’ve allowed others to colonize your mind. Hoodoo is for us by us 🤷🏾‍♀️

 #generationalwealth #bookofpsalms #hoodoomagick #ancestorveneration #empressopulence #greenscreen"

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22K likes, 928 comments - witchygoddesses_ on January 15, 2024: "You’ve allowed others to colonize your mind. Hoodoo is for us by us 🤷🏾‍♀️

 #genera..."

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Zora Neal Hurston Learns How to Punish a Guilty Man- Of Mules and Men

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Zora Neal Hurston Learns How to Punish a Guilty Man- Of Mules and Men

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"Now," he said, "when you want a person punished who is already indicted, write his name on a slip of paper and put it in a sugar bowl or some other deep something like that. Now get your paper and pencil and write the name; alright now, you got it in the bowl. Now put in some red pepper, some black pepper -don't be skeered to put it in, it needs a lot. Put in one eightpenny nail, fifteen cents worth of ammonia and two door keys. You drop one key down in the bowl and you leave the other one against the side of the bowl. Now you got your bowl set. Go to your bowl every day at twelve o'clock and turn the key that is standing against the side of the bowl. That is to keep the man locked in jail. And every time you turn the key, add a little vinegar. Now I know this will do the job. All it needs is for you to do it in faith.

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Edition Data

Mules and Men is the first great collection of black America's folk world. In the 1930's, Zora Neale Hurston returned to her "native village" of Eatonville, Florida to record the oral histories, sermons and songs, dating back to the time of slavery, which she remembered hearing as a child. In her quest, she found herself and her history throughout these highly metaphorical folk-tales, "big old lies," and the lyrical language of song. With this collection, Zora Neale Hurston has come to reveal'and preserve'a beautiful and important part of American culture.
Click here to listen to an audio excerpt

Order from these retailers

Praise for Mules and Men

Simply the most exciting book on black folklore and culture I have ever read."

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Mules and Men is the first great collection of black America's folk world. In the 1930's, Zora Neale Hurston returned to her "native village" of Eatonville, Florida to record the oral histories, sermons and songs, dating back to the time of slavery, which she remembered hearing as a child.

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Understanding Conjuring Through the Works of Shay Youngblood

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Understanding Conjuring Through the Works of Shay Youngblood

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Conjuring makes use of natural properties—herbs, roots, blood, soil, water, hair— and the appropriate ordering and repetition of words that activate the ase, or life force, of the material elements. Conjuring’s reliance on the power of words gives it a very particular union with theatre

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Barbara Ann Teer Theorizes on Ritual and Theatre

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Barbara Ann Teer Theorizes on Ritual and Theatre

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Teer seized at once on the ritualistic practices of Pentecostals and Africans as a starting point, partly because of their innate theatricality, “integrating,” as Fabre puts it, “musical forms, narrative, and choreography specific to black culture.”12 Teer stated that “you can’t put that magic in a play for plays are nothing but ego trips, anyway. You stand up there on stage reciting lines, and the audience flips out because you’ve mastered an acting technique.” The main element that excited Teer’s imagination was ritual. Bruce McConachie describes a ritual as a “repetitious, formalized, and dramatically-structured communication of significant cultural meanings, effected through the involvement and catharsis of its participants, which functions to legitimate an image of a social order. The ‘dramatically structured elements’ may vary widely from ritual to ritual, but include music, song, call-response, liturgical chanting, dance, impersonation, incarnation, story—in sum, theatrical elements.”13

These elements suited Teer, as she declared that in her theatre audience and performers would have the same electrifying experiences that she had witnessed in the Pentecostal churches of Harlem.

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Black Ritual Primer- "Ritual Drama in the Contemporary Black Theatre"- Molette

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Black Ritual Primer- "Ritual Drama in the Contemporary Black Theatre"- Molette

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Black Ritual Theatre (in 8 easy steps) by Lindsay A. Jenkins

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Black Ritual Theatre (in 8 easy steps) by Lindsay A. Jenkins

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“...ritual is the cornerstone of the performative process through which African Americans come to understand, reinforce, and reflexively critique who they are in the world.”

-E. Patrick Johnson, “Black Performance Studies: Genealogies, Politics, Futures”

1.Discard Linear Structure

There is no beginning, middle and end. Time is experienced cyclically.

2. Song and Dance

Music, rhythm and movement are

important aspects in Black Ritual.

3. Use Repetition to Increase Emotional Intensity

Repetition is an ancient method to aid in total spiritual involvement.

4. Audience Participation

Unlike traditional European performances, the fourth wall is blurred and the audience is expected to engage.

5. Call and Response

Used to build participation and repetition.

6. Liminal Space

There is no hierarchy once ritual has begun.

7. Celebrate Community

Black Ritual Theatre is never about one person.

8. Achieve Transformation

The ritual should transform its participants.

Sources: "The Ritual Process" by Victor Turner, "Ritual Drama in the Contemporary Black Theatre" by Carlton Molette, “Black Performance Studies: Genealogies, Politics, Futures” by E. Patrick Johnson,

This text was written by and belongs to Lindsay A. Jenkins

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This sacred practice is particularly prevalent in Haiti, Africa, and Latin America, where it plays a central role in shaping cultural identity, fostering a sense of belonging, and connecting present generations with their rich past.

In these regions, ancestral veneration is not just a ritual; it is a profound spiritual and communal experience that permeates all aspects of life. This article explores the significance of honouring ancestors in Haiti, Africa, and Latin America, shedding light on the customs, beliefs, and rituals that bind communities together across generations.
Honouring Ancestors in Haiti
Haiti, the first independent nation in Latin America and the Caribbean, holds a vibrant and diverse cultural heritage, shaped by a fusion of African, European, and indigenous influences. Central to Haitian spirituality is the practice of honouring ancestors, often referred to as "Vodou" (Voodoo). In Vodou, ancestors are believed to continue to exist in the spirit world, guiding and protecting their living descendants.

Ancestral veneration in Haiti involves elaborate ceremonies, music, dance, and offerings to appease and communicate with the spirits. Practitioners gather at sacred sites, known as "peristyles," to connect with their ancestors. They invoke the lwa (spirits) through song, drumming, and dance, seeking their wisdom and blessings. Offerings of food, rum, and other symbolic items are made to show respect and gratitude to the ancestors.

The practice of honouring ancestors in Haiti extends beyond religious rituals; it permeates daily life. Families maintain altars at home adorned with pictures, candles, and offerings, symbolizing a continuous connection with deceased relatives. The wisdom and experiences of ancestors are passed down through oral storytelling, preserving cultural traditions and promoting a strong sense of community.
Ancestral Veneration in Africa
Across the vast and diverse continent of Africa, the honouring of ancestors is deeply rooted in cultural and spiritual practices. Specific beliefs and rituals vary among different African tribes and communities, but a common thread runs through them: ancestors hold a powerful influence on the living.

In many African societies, ancestors are revered as intermediaries between the human realm and the spirit world. Offerings of food, water, and other goods are presented to ancestors at designated shrines or burial sites to seek their guidance, protection, and blessings. The wisdom of ancestors is considered invaluable, and their advice is sought during important decision-making processes.

Music and dance play an essential role in ancestral veneration in Africa. Rhythmic drumming and spirited dances are performed during ceremonies and rituals, channelling the energy of the ancestors and fostering a sense of unity among the living.
Latin America's Ancestral Connections
Latin America, a region rich in cultural diversity, boasts a deep reverence for ancestors across various countries and indigenous communities. Pre-Columbian civilizations, such as the Aztecs, Mayans, and Incas, practiced elaborate rituals to honour their ancestors and divine deities.

In modern times, the tradition of honouring ancestors has merged with the influence of colonial and Christian beliefs, creating a unique syncretic expression of ancestral veneration. Latin American communities often commemorate their ancestors during specific holidays, such as Dia de los Muertos (Day of the Dead) in Mexico, which involves creating colourful altars adorned with photographs, candles, and offerings to welcome the spirits of loved ones back to the earthly realm.

In indigenous communities throughout Latin America, ancestral veneration remains deeply ingrained in daily life. Rituals, dances, and ceremonies are performed to maintain a connection with the past and to seek guidance from departed ancestors in matters concerning health, agriculture, and community harmony.
Conclusion
The practice of honouring ancestors in Haiti, Africa, and Latin America is a deeply spiritual and communal tradition that weaves together the fabric of cultural identity and historical continuity. Through rituals, music, dance, and storytelling, these societies celebrate their shared past, seek guidance from their ancestors, and foster a strong sense of belonging among the living.

Honouring ancestors is not merely an archaic remnant of the past; it remains an integral part of the present, shaping the values, customs, and social structures of these vibrant cultures. By cherishing the wisdom and experiences of their ancestors, the people of Haiti, Africa, and Latin America forge a connection that transcends time, creating a bridge between the past, the present, and the future.

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Honouring Ancestors: A Sacred Tradition in Haiti, Africa, and Latin America

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This sacred practice is particularly prevalent in Haiti, Africa, and Latin America, where it plays a central role in shaping cultural identity, fostering

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Ancestor Reverence "Jambalaya " by Luisah Teish

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Ancestor Reverence "Jambalaya " by Luisah Teish

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Uncovering the Power of Hoodoo: An Ancestral Journey

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 Luke Kohen on Instagram: "Can you relate? 👇🏽

We’re all impacted by what goes on 
on our planet

If your heart is ALIVE we deeply FEEL and SEE 

It’s not always easy 

We each have a sacred role to play in this larger unraveling of the old paradigms & matrix

We each bring our dharma, our Kuliana, or sacred responsibility… that no one being, group thought, institution, or trend can possibly define for us

That is the job of your soul and your direct relationship with spirit, with the creator or higher power 

It’s easy to judge other peoples choices

We don’t know what battles ppl are fighting. Some are in literal war zones rn, some are in internal hell realms, others in golden cages, others numb in automatic routines half alive 

Follow the life force of your inner most truth, wisdom and guidance to serve not from an ideal, mental construct or reactive consciousness but an overflow of life force that has emerged from the well of beingness or prayer 

And yes that is an ABSOLUTE privilege 

We are incredibly privileged to have the opportunity to heal generations of trauma

We are incredibly privileged to have a human body that knows some remnants of safety & connection 

Which is all the more reason to step fully into that work bc no one else is going to do it for you & it’s one of the realest contributions

WE EACH possess the sacred power of transmutation. Each one of you a creator being with the strength of soul, of angels of ancestors, of christed Buddhic beings, of your own I AM presence to Reclaim this miracle of life 

As we each reclaim safety in our nervous systems. We can create a safer planet. As we each reclaim our true power and authority we can reclaim the power structures of this planet to be FOR earth and ALL her children 
As WE each reclaim our inner most PEACE we can create a world that reflects that peace 

Never underestimate the power YOU have

However you serve life 
THANK YOU FOR BEING HERE! 

I am wishing you all profound grace into 2024

May all beings be free from suffering and know happiness 

See you on the other side 
-LK

#satire #funny #haha #deep #wisdom #reminders #memeoftheday #shadowwork #spiritualpath #happynewyear #memeoftheweek #memelord"

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18K likes, 236 comments - lukekohen on December 29, 2023: "Can you relate? 👇🏽

We’re all impacted by what goes on 
on our planet

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A Texas woman was driven off her land by a racist mob in 1939. More than eight decades later, she owns it again. https://t.co/0yrVYtNKbM

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A Texas woman was driven off her land by a racist mob in 1939. More than eight decades later, she owns it again.

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In 1939, when Opal Lee was just 12, her family moved into a house that stood in an all-White neighborhood. They had lived at the home for just five days when a mob showed up and "tore it asunder."

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A Texas woman was driven off her land by a racist mob in 1939. More than eight decades later, she owns it again. https://t.co/0yrVYtNKbM https://t.co/aGzUS32R7g

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A Texas woman was driven off her land by a racist mob in 1939. More than eight decades later, she owns it again. https://t.co/0yrVYtNKbM pic.twitter.com/aGzUS32R7g
— CBS News (@CBSNews) January 13, 2024

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.metadata.attachment_props_source.data.entities.urls[].title
A Texas woman was driven off her land by a racist mob in 1939. More than eight decades later, she owns it again.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.metadata.attachment_props_source.data.entities.urls[].description
In 1939, when Opal Lee was just 12, her family moved into a house that stood in an all-White neighborhood. They had lived at the home for just five days when a mob showed up and "tore it asunder."

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.metadata.attachment_props_source.data.text
A Texas woman was driven off her land by a racist mob in 1939. More than eight decades later, she owns it again. https://t.co/0yrVYtNKbM https://t.co/aGzUS32R7g

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.metadata.attachment_props.original_text
A Texas woman was driven off her land by a racist mob in 1939. More than eight decades later, she owns it again. https://t.co/0yrVYtNKbM https://t.co/aGzUS32R7g

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.metadata.attachment_props.text
A Texas woman was driven off her land by a racist mob in 1939. More than eight decades later, she owns it again. https://t.co/0yrVYtNKbM

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.metadata.attachment_props.entities.urls[].title
A Texas woman was driven off her land by a racist mob in 1939. More than eight decades later, she owns it again.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.metadata.attachment_props.entities.urls[].description
In 1939, when Opal Lee was just 12, her family moved into a house that stood in an all-White neighborhood. They had lived at the home for just five days when a mob showed up and "tore it asunder."

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"Where is my Land?"- Demanding Long Overdue Property Justice

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"Where is my Land?"- Demanding Long Overdue Property Justice

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Our Imperative:

We help Black Americans discover connections to stolen land through research, data, and technology.

We help families and descendants reclaim stolen land and secure restitution through traditional advocacy and digital amplification.

We educate the public about the hidden history of Black land theft by whites through partnerships, content, and programming.

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Where Is My Land - Stolen Land Reclaimed

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Where Is My Land is a movement dedicated to helping Black People discover, search for, identify, and reclaim land taken from them over the past 400 years.

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Alice Walker- CHOICE: A TRIBUTE TO DR. MARTIN LUTHER KING, JR (excerpt from In Search of Our Mothers Gardens)

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Alice Walker- CHOICE: A TRIBUTE TO DR. MARTIN LUTHER KING, JR (excerpt from In Search of Our Mothers Gardens)

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"If it is true that land does not belong to anyone until they have buried a body in it, then the land of my birthplace belongs to me, dozens of times over. Yet the history of my family, like that of all black Southerners, is a history of dispossession. We loved the land and worked the land, but we never owned it; and even if we bought land, as my great-grandfather did after the Civil War, it was always in danger of being taken away, as his was, during the period following Reconstruction...

The public acts of Dr. King you know. They are visible all around you... You know of the prizes and awards that he tended to think very little of. And you know of his concern for the disinherited: the American Indian, the Mexican-American, and the poor American white—for whom he cared much.

But add to all of these things the one thing that seems to me second to none in importance: He gave us back our heritage. He gave us back our homeland; the bones and dust of our ancestors, who may now sleep within our caring and our hearing. He gave us the blueness of the Georgia sky in autumn as in summer; the colors of the Southern winter as well as glimpses of the green of vacation-time spring. Those of our relatives we used to invite for a visit we now can ask to stay….He gave us full-time use of our own woods, and restored our memories to those of us who were forced to run away, as realities we might each day enjoy and leave for our children. He gave us continuity of place, without which community is ephemeral. He gave us home."

Alice Walker, 1973

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The True Story of the Seven Freedmen Killed in East Texas 

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The True Story of the Seven Freedmen Killed in East Texas 

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The following month found Sweeney running the Bureau’s Jefferson Tx. Office. He soon reported that a band of fifty men believed to be from Arkansas had ridden into a plantation near Jefferson and killed seven “colored men.” On Oct. 27, 1868 he wrote to the Bureau’s headquarters in Austin about “a terrible tragedy occurring on the Whitaker Plantation in Davis County.” Sweeney wrote that he had leased the plantation to “twenty or thirty freedmen” including one of the leaders of the black community named Peter Hill. Hill was hated by the whites because “he was influencing” the black community to vote in the coming elections. A group of whites went to Hill’s blacksmith shop and “shamefully abused him,” according to Sweeney. Hill broke free of them, grabbed a gun, and chased the whites out of his shop. Hill went to seek the help of the Freedmen’s Bureau, but “as far as I Know” no actions were taken against the perpetrator. This confrontation led to the attack from Arkansas.⁹

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Henry Sweeney had a successful stint as head of the Freedmen's Bureau at Helena, Arkansas in the first two years of Reconstruction. The Irish-born officer left the Bureau to continue his career as a soldier with the United States Army in occupied Alabama. In the last half of 1868 he was back in the Freedmen's Bureau again, this time in Texas. His triumphs in Arkansas could not prepare him for what he would face in the Lone Star State. ¹

The Freedmen's Bureau had been established by Abraham Lincoln and Congress in March of 1865. After Lincoln's assassination, his successor, President Andrew Johnson made every effort to undercut the Bureau's actions supporting freed slaves in the South. He had hoped to shut the agency down as soon as possible. In 1866, Congress passed the Freedmen's Bureau Act over Johnson's veto, but even with that new lease on life, most Freedmen's Bureau activities were to close at the end of 1868. ²

The Bureau had been violently opposed by white plantation owners from the start. Until 1868, Blacks could not vote in Texas and local governments beholden to all-white constituencies tried to return blacks to new forms of involuntary servitude after slavery formally ended, forcing them to work under the sometimes violent discipline of white overseers. The agents of the Freedmen's Bureau stood between the planters and full white domination of black labor. ³

By September of 1868, political conditions in Texas were volatile. Ulysses S. Grant, the head of the Union Army that had conquered the former Confederacy, was the Republican nominee for president and the likely replacement for the pro-white Southern President Andrew Johnson. White Southerners feared that he would insist on full citizenship rights for African Americans. A state constitutional convention had been called at the insistence of the Federal government to draft a color-blind constitution for the reconstructed state. Violent resistance to the enfranchisement of African Americans was on the rise. ⁴

Sweeney was thrust into this volatile situation with even fewer resources than he had in Arkansas right after the end of the Civil War. Sweeney also had to deal with the sorts of everyday difficulties that an official in a soon-to-be-closed agency experiences. For example, on September 14, 1868 he wrote from his desk in Marshall, Texas, that "there is not sufficient stationary now on hand to conduct the business of the office" which he said caused "embarrassment." On Sept. 28, 1868 he wrote to complain that the office itself was "a small confined room in very bad repair and adjoining a livery stable which is very offensive." The government was not putting money into rent and supplies for an organization that was four months away from closing. ⁵

If the Freedmen's Bureau was set up for the admirable purpose of providing legal protections and material support to blacks during their sudden transition from enslavement to freedom, the decision that three hundred years of oppression could be corrected by three-and-a-half years of work by the Bureau was naïve. Compounding the problem, Southern whites knew that Federal protections would be withdrawn soon and they heightened antagonisms with Black workers and voters in anticipation. ⁶

In a September 30, 1868 report, Sweeney wrote: "I have found a spirit of antagonism existing between the white and colored races exceeding anything I ever before experienced either in Arkansas or in Alabama. It is [a] very common thing to hear the freedpeople cussed and every advantage is taken of them by low white men to perpetrate petty acts of tyranny and abuse." ⁷

The Federal government expected that after January 1, 1869 the state would take over the education of African American children and the protection of black workers. Sweeney knew that the plan would not work. On September 30 he wrote to his superiors warning that "in the country places of this county (Harrison) it is utterly impossible for a colored person to obtain justice and it is worse than useless for them to apply to any magistrate." In the report Sweeney found that "The school houses are very miserable and in winter are calculated to keep children away in consequence of not affording shelter sufficient." Local and state government could not be trusted with the futures of young African Americans in his part of Texas. ⁸

The following month found Sweeney running the Bureau's Jefferson Tx. Office. He soon reported that a band of fifty men believed to be from Arkansas had ridden into a plantation near Jefferson and killed seven "colored men." On Oct. 27, 1868 he wrote to the Bureau's headquarters in Austin about "a terrible tragedy occurring on the Whitaker Plantation in Davis County." Sweeney wrote that he had leased the plantation to "twenty or thirty freedmen" including one of the leaders of the black community named Peter Hill. Hill was hated by the whites because "he was influencing" the black community to vote in the coming elections. A group of whites went to Hill's blacksmith shop and "shamefully abused him," according to Sweeney. Hill broke free of them, grabbed a gun, and chased the whites out of his shop. Hill went to seek the help of the Freedmen's Bureau, but "as far as I Know" no actions were taken against the perpetrator. This confrontation led to the attack from Arkansas. ⁹

Sweeney worried that local law enforcement was not taking action and he commanded the Deputy Sheriff to account for the steps he was taking to bring the perpetrators to justice. ¹⁰

Far from thinking that the area of Texas under his jurisdiction was ready to return to local rule, Sweeney wrote in a report that "there is a terrible spirit of animosity existing against the freedpeople by the whites". In three counties "the unfortunate colored man does not say his life is his own in some places. Murder and robbery reign." He wrote that he was "working hard to establish a good school in Jefferson" but that the opposition of local whites was hindering progress. ¹¹

Sweeney complained to his superiors that because the Freedmen's Bureau had no cavalry available to protect the freedpeople, outside of the two small cities, "the Bureau is powerless." He wrote that: " Whipping the freedmen robbing them of their arms, driving them off plantations, and murdering whole families are of daily, and nightly occurrence. All done by disguised parties whom no one can testify to. The civil authorities never budge an inch to try and discover these midnight marauders and apparently a perfect apathy exists throughout the whole community regarding the General State of Society-nothing but Martial Law can save this section as it is at present."¹²

In his Nov. 1868 report Sweeney discounted any pretense that the white-run local and county governments offered African Americans any protection. He said that the local civil authorities were "a farce" and he advised that a continued army presence was all that stood between the city and anarchy. He warned that conditions were even worse beyond the city because the few soldiers he had available did not have horses to travel to the rural areas. "The bureau is powerless in cases of outrage outside of the city in consequence of not having Cavalry," he wrote in despair. ¹³

Sweeney must have entertained at least some hope, because the records indicate that even as late as December 11, 1868, Sweeney was trying to raise money to fund a school started by "a young colored man." Sweeney strongly supported the hiring of Black teachers and had tried to use them whenever they were available. On the negative side, a few days later, on Dec. 14, 1868, Sweeney reported that he had sent out a detachment of cavalry to arrest "four white men for perpetrating a Ku Klux outrage..." ¹⁴

If Sweeney's time in Arkansas gave him a glimpse of the changes Reconstruction promised, Texas taught him that determined resistance by whites willing to engage in terrorism could thwart the weak forces of the Bureau. ¹⁵

However, all hope was not lost for formerly enslaved blacks when the Bureau shut down. With Andrew Johnson finally gone from the presidency, the Federal government imposed a color-blind constitution on Texas and Black men got the vote. While it looked like education for freed children would decline with the closing of most Freedmen's Bureau operations, another immigrant would play an important role in creating the first locally supported schools admitting blacks in Texas history. ¹⁶

Jacob DeGress was an immigrant colleague of Henry Sweeney in the Freedmen's Bureau. He was also one of the most hated Bureau Sub-Assistant Commissioners in Texas. DeGress was a German immigrant who had settled in Missouri before the Civil War. After rising in the Union Army to the rank of brevet colonel, DeGress aggressively used his position to protect former slaves. In two cases he sheltered blacks who had escaped from racially motivated prosecutions. In one of the two incidents, he openly defied orders from the governor of Texas to turn over the man he was protecting. In a third case, DeGress fined a white man $500 ($12,000 in today's money) for using a pistol to threaten a black woman who would not work for him. The white employer claimed that he had the right to compel her labor. After his time with the Freedmen's Bureau he served as an officer in a black army regiment in Texas. He retired from the army because he still suffered from a wound received during the war. ¹⁷

In 1870, the first African American-supported government in Texas history enacted legislation to create a statewide school system. Gov. Edmund Davis appointed DeGress the first state superintendent of education. In a state that had afforded almost no public education to white children before the Civil War, and absolutely no public education to blacks or Latinos, DeGress hoped to work an educational revolution. In his first statement of his goals he wrote that "In the Southern States especially is there both room and necessity for advancement, and to the schools and institutes must we look for those influences that shall impress themselves upon the rising generation and prepare them to enter upon the arena of the battle of life with confidence, ability, energy, and knowledge." DeGress saw education as the key to the future for Texas. Many whites violently disagreed. ¹⁸

DeGress started work on May 5, 1870 in a state with no educational system and no plan for creating one. By August he had researched public education programs around the country and come up with an organizational program of his own. He quickly named 35 school supervisors for every settled part of the state, and local district superintendents. ¹⁹

DeGress rejected the Texas practice of political appointment to teaching positions which often left children being instructed by incompetents. He established clear professional standards and created a travelling board of examiners to review applicants' qualifications and fitness prior to their being hired. The immigrant also lengthened the school day. Before DeGress, the few public schools in Texas often offered only a few hours of instruction per day for four or five months of the year. DeGress required schools to be open 10 months each year for six hours per day. ²⁰

In place of the one-room schoolhouse in which children of all different ages were intermixed in one class, DeGress broke the students up into different grades through which they progressed to graduation. The German immigrant set a statewide curriculum. DeGress said that because Texans moved so often, it was important for a child to be studying the same materials as he moved about the state. He purchased textbooks for instruction at state expense. Because he bought so many books, the state received a 30% discount on texts. ²¹

In his first year, DeGress superintended 1,324 schools. By 1872, that number had grown to 2,067. Unfortunately, state law prevented the integration of classrooms, but DeGress paid special attention to the education of African American children. However, white leaders began a tax revolt that led to a decline in the schools after 1872. Although white leaders did all they could to curtail public education, Texas's modern school system is a survival of DeGress's 19 th Century struggle. ²²
Video: Historian Elaine Parsons talks about Klan costuming
Horns, Masks, and Women's Dress: How the First Klan Used Costume to Build Domestic Terrorism by Elaine Frantz Parsons from VA Museum of History & Culture on Vimeo.
Sources:

1. The Army in Texas During Reconstruction: 1865-1870 by William L. Richter published by Texas A&M Press (1987); . Texas after the Civil War: The Struggle of Reconstruction by Carl H. Moneyhon published by Texas A&M Press (2004); Too Great a Burden to Bear: The Struggle and Failure of the Freedmen's Bureau in Texas by Christopher B. Bean published by Fordham University Press (2016); Reconstruction in Texas by Charles W. Ramsdell, Published by Columbia University (1910); Freedom After Slavery: The Black Experience and the Freedmen's Bureau in Reconstruction Texas by Lavonne Jackson Lesley (self-published) (2012); The Freedmen's Bureau and Black Texans by Barry A. Crouch published by University of Texas Press (1992); Republicanism in Reconstruction Texas by Carl H. Moneyhon published by Texas A&M University Press (2001); Remembering Reconstruction: Struggles over the Meaning of America's Most Turbulent Era edited by Carole Emberton and Bruce Baker published by LSU Press (2017); Reconstruction: America's Unfinished Revolution, 1863-1877 by Eric Foner; After Appomattox: Military Occupation and the Ends of War by Gregory P. Downs (2015); A Nation Under Our Feet: Black Political Struggles in the Rural South from Slavery to the Great Migration by Steven Hahn (2005); The Freedmen's Bureau and Reconstruction Edited by Paul Cimbala and Randall Miller published by Fordham University Press (1997); The Impact of the Civil War and Reconstruction on Arkansas by Carl Moneyhon published by University of Arkansas Press (2002); The Wars of Reconstruction: The Brief, Violent History of America's Most Progressive Era by Douglas R. Egerton published by Bloomsbury Press (2014); The Ordeal of the Reunion: A New History of Reconstruction by Mark Wahlgren Summers published by the University of North Carolina Press (2014); Self-Taught: African American Education in Slavery and Freedom by Heather Andrea Williams (2005); Help Me to Find My People: The African American Search for Family Lost in Slavery by Heather Andrea Williams (2012). Archives of the Freedmen's Bureau, and the Pension Files of Sweeney.

2. The Freedmen's Bureau and Reconstruction Edited by Paul Cimbala and Randall Miller published by Fordham University Press (1997).

3. The Army in Texas During Reconstruction: 1865-1870 by William L. Richter published by Texas A&M Press (1987); . Texas after the Civil War: The Struggle of Reconstruction by Carl H. Moneyhon published by Texas A&M Press (2004); Too Great a Burden to Bear: The Struggle and Failure of the Freedmen's Bureau in Texas by Christopher B. Bean published by Fordham University Press (2016); Reconstruction in Texas by Charles W. Ramsdell, Published by Columbia University (1910); Freedom After Slavery: The Black Experience and the Freedmen's Bureau in Reconstruction Texas by Lavonne Jackson Lesley (self-published) (2012); The Freedmen's Bureau and Black Texans by Barry A. Crouch published by University of Texas Press (1992); Republicanism in Reconstruction Texas by Carl H. Moneyhon published by Texas A&M University Press (2001).

4. Handbook of Texas

5. Sweeney Freedmen's Bureau Records letters of September 14, 1868 and September 28, 1868

6. The Freedmen's Bureau and Reconstruction Edited by Paul Cimbala and Randall Miller published by Fordham University Press (1997)

7. Sweeney Freedmen's Bureau Records September 30, 1868 report

8. Sweeney Freedmen's Bureau Records September 30, 1868 report

9. Sweeney Freedmen's Bureau Records Oct. 27, 1868

10. Sweeney Freedmen's Bureau Records Oct. 27, 1868, Oct. 26 1868 letter

11. These are cited as Roll 23, Letters sent, vol (116), Oct-Dec 1868

12. Sweeney Nov. 1868 Report

13. Sweeney Nov. 1868 Report

14. Sweeney Freedmen's Bureau Records Dec. 11, 1868 and Dec. 14, 1868; Freedom After Slavery: The Black Experience and the Freedmen's Bureau in Reconstruction Texas by Lavonne Jackson Lesley (self-published) (2012) Kindle Location 1146.

15. The Ordeal of the Reunion: A New History of Reconstruction by Mark Wahlgren Summers published by the University of North Carolina Press (2014).

16. The Army in Texas During Reconstruction: 1865-1870 by William L. Richter published by Texas A&M Press (1987) p. 83, War Department Investigation Report Adjutant General January 23, 1867

17. The Army in Texas During Reconstruction: 1865-1870 by William L. Richter published by Texas A&M Press (1987) p. 83, War Department Investigation Report Adjutant General January 23, 1867; Handbook of Texas.

18. Texas after the Civil War: The Struggle of Reconstruction Carl H. Moneyhon published by Texas A&M Southwestern Studies Kindle Locations 2085-2086

19. Texas after the Civil War: The Struggle of Reconstruction Carl H. Moneyhon published by Texas A&M Southwestern Studies Kindle Locations 2085-2200

20. Texas after the Civil War: The Struggle of Reconstruction Carl H. Moneyhon published by Texas A&M Southwestern Studies Kindle Locations 2085-2200

21. Texas after the Civil War: The Struggle of Reconstruction Carl H. Moneyhon published by Texas A&M Southwestern Studies Kindle Locations 2085-2200

22. Texas after the Civil War: The Struggle of Reconstruction Carl H. Moneyhon published by Texas A&M Southwestern Studies Kindle Locations 2085-2200

https://thereconstructionera.com/

Patrick Young blogs daily for Long Island Wins. He is the Downstate Advocacy Director of the New York Immigration Coalition and Special Professor of Immigration Law at Hofstra School of Law. He served as the Director of Legal Services and Program at Central American Refugee Center (CARECEN) for three decades before retiring in 2019. Pat is also a student of immigration history and the author of The Immigrants' Civil War.

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Irish Immigrant Henry Sweeney and the Ku Klux Klan in Texas in 1868 - Long Island Wins

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Henry Sweeney had a successful stint as head of the Freedmen's Bureau at Helena, Arkansas in the first two years of Reconstruction. The Irish-born officer left the Bureau to continue his career as a soldier with the United States Army in occupied Alabama.

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When you search "Biomythography" on internet search engines, the first result that comes up will say it is a term coined by Audre Lorde to describe her book Zami. There isn't much variance in the subsequent results, either.

Let's pick apart the name in order to debunk this subgenre: biomythography. It is, at its core, biography. According to Merriam-Webster, the definition is "a usually written history of a person's life" or "an account of the life of something." Then, though, there is that key component: myth. Merriam-Webster defines this as "a usually traditional story of ostensibly historical events that serves to unfold part of the world view of a people or explain a practice, belief, or natural phenomenon" or "a popular belief or tradition that has grown up around something or someone; especially; one embodying the ideals and institutions of a society or segment of society" or "an unfounded or false notion." In biomythography, the distinctions are blurred.

It's quite fitting. Zami tells the biography that Lorde knew from her mother as a child; it was truth. The myth comes from discerning whether or not Carriacou really existed, or whether her mother had just mixed up the name. Before she, 26 years later, finds it on a map, Lorde imagines it to be a "magic" place and "came to believe [her] mother's geography was a fantasy or crazy or at least too old-fashioned" (14). The mythology of this place became safety for Lorde, but it also held truth, because even if it didn't physically exist, it existed in her heart and mind.

In her essay "Audre Lorde's Lacquered Layerings," Kate King refers to Zami as a "rewriting," telling both the individual and collective history. This idea is similar to what Faith Adiele writes in her essay "Writing the Black Family Home," that her purpose was to "wield memoir as the corrective" (78). To set the record straight. To cement it in writing. King writes that "layers of meanings, layers of histories, layers of readings and re-readings through webs of power-charged codes mark biomythography" (68). That the job of the biomythography is to unravel and include all of them in order to tell the most rounded story possible.

Although Zami examines Lorde's mother's origin story, the rest of the book engages in conversation with Lorde's black lesbian identity and power structure within lesbian relationships. This is what King explores in her essay. She observes that Lorde's biomythography is "the layerings of instance, of political meanings constrained in particularity, lacquered over so finely that they are inseparable and mutually constructing while distinct" (56). That Lorde writes and then rewrites. To use King's vocabulary, Lorde uses a structure of "ground/foreground, of dominant ideology/heterodoxy" which allows her to construct and reveal the complexity which occurs at "the intersection of race and sex" (57). Tugging at each of these threads will reveal one truth, one perspective, each one a little different. However, all of them together add up to what becomes the biography, give or take the myth. As King says (although she is speaking in regards to the power dynamics of lesbian relationships that persist in our language), "no unitary self resides" (61).

She argues that biomythography is not our truth simply and mundane, but "a writing down of our meanings of identity...with the materials of our lives" (62). We are the culmination of it all, and exploring that, teasing it out, is exciting, isn't it?

Sources:

Adiele, Faith. "Writing the Black Family Home." 78-87. Print.

King, Kate. "Audre Lorde's Lacquered Layerings: The Lesbian Bar as a Site of Literary Production." New Lesbian Criticism: Literary and Cultural Readings. Sally Munt, ed. 1992. 51-74. Web.

Lorde, Audre. Zami: A New Spelling of My Name. Persephone Press, 1982. 3-14. Print.

"Biography." Merriam-Webster Dictionary. 30 March, 2017. Web.

"Myth." Merriam Webster Dictionary. 30 March, 2017. Web.

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Biomythography: Fact and Fiction as Identity

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When you search "Biomythography" on internet search engines, the first result that comes up will say it is a term coined by Audre Lorde to describe her book Zami. There isn't much variance in the subsequent results, either. Let's pick apart the name in order to debunk this subgenre: biomythography.

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When Black Lives Really Do Matter: Subverting Medical Racism through African-Diasporic Healing Rituals in Toni Morrison’s Fiction

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When Black Lives Really Do Matter: Subverting Medical Racism through African-Diasporic Healing Rituals in Toni Morrison’s Fiction

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The people could fly, by Virginia Hamilton

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Documentary: Escape to the Great Dismal Swamp

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By a quarter past eight, the woods were bright and humming, and the summer heat had rolled in off Route 17. The early August air was soft and humid by the canal on the eastern side of the Great Dismal Swamp's Virginia half. The bikers, the joggers, the hikers, the bird-watchers, and the couple loading up their dusty SUV each chimed "morning" one after another, all cradling the letter m at the roofs of their mouths.

Eric Sheppard stepped gingerly ahead of me. His turquoise polo shirt was lined with pin-sized holes on the collar, and he'd tucked the hem into his tan boot-cut khakis. He made his way to a muddy footpath facing the canal, away from the cluster of visitors. The water gleamed like black marble, reflecting the canopy.

"A whole lotta stuff went on here," Sheppard said, gazing out over the pool and into the tangle of poplars where his forebears had been enslaved. "Our ancestors' bones are still in that swamp right there."

Listen to locals long enough and you'll come to find that the Dismal shifts in the eye of the beholder. The land's kaleidoscopic history is much the same. For one of Eric's distant relatives, a lumberman named Moses Grandy, the swamp was at once the site of his bondage and the nexus of his freedom. Grandy toiled in the cavernous morass for decades as an enslaved laborer before stashing away enough coin to purchase himself outright. He was one in a colony of workers who lived in camps in the bog. Out of porous peat soil they cut and glued canals, lugged cypress and white cedar trunks, and crafted millions of shingles. Most inhabitants were enslaved, but some harnessed the swamp to other ends. Some sought refuge in it.

From the late 17th century to the end of the Civil War, thousands of maroons-runaways who obtained their freedom by occupying remote and uninhabited regions-lived in relative secrecy throughout the 750-square-mile wilderness. No one is sure exactly how many people escaped enslavement within its confines, but this much is clear: The Great Dismal Swamp, an area regarded by colonial settlers as so utterly inhospitable that its very air was once said to be toxic, was over multiple centuries home to the largest maroon community in the United States.

Sheppard, who was raised in Baltimore and now lives in Williamsburg, Virginia, didn't know of Grandy until well into adulthood. He was trying to trace his late father's ancestry when he stumbled upon a family graveyard on the property of a small, red-brick Baptist church in Camden County, North Carolina. When he got home that evening, he typed "Grandy" and "North Carolina" into Google. The top result was Moses's autobiography. Sheppard cross-referenced his own family tree and found that he and Grandy shared common relatives. "It's almost like he was calling me," Sheppard said, inching closer to the canal. "How many other ancestors are out there calling their descendants?"

We moved farther down the pathway and approached a brown picnic table with an adjoining shingled roof and feet that were caked in drying mud. Stroking the bright silver hair above his lip, Sheppard told me that many of his other relatives likely worked in or around the swamp too. Because there is no firsthand documentation of their lives, though, Moses's story is the closest Sheppard will get to knowing their experiences. It took him years, but he visited each location the freedman wrote about in his book.

For the better part of a decade, Sheppard has devoted himself to spreading awareness of Grandy's narrative and the larger "human history" of the swamp. When he started, there was not a single monument, plaque, sign, or posting acknowledging the history of enslavement and rebellion in the Great Dismal Swamp National Wildlife Refuge or on the Virginia or North Carolina sides of the Great Dismal Swamp Canal. Now, there's a trail named after Moses, a pavilion that foregrounds maroons farther south, and a few markers that are part of the National Underground Railroad Network to Freedom. In September 2021, the House approved a bill that would help make the Dismal a national heritage site. If passed in the Senate along with subsequent legislation, the area would receive millions of dollars in federal resources to preserve and promote its history in the decades to come.

The viability and ramifications of this shifting landscape are of particular fixation to Sheppard. When we spoke, he wasn't so much bothered by the prospect of change as he was leery of it. In the final few steps on our walk back from the waterway to his blue Ford Escape, Sheppard paused and looked at me. "The question," he said, "is how are the descendants of enslaved people benefiting from this here?"

Since the beginning of the 20th century, protection of the Dismal has been framed as an environmental issue. After 200 years of heavy logging left the territory at less than a third of its original size, the Union Camp Corporation gifted the swamp to the U.S. government in 1973. For nearly all of its modern existence, the region's multigenerational history of exploitation, brutality, and resistance has-through decades of distortion and purposeful erasure-been largely hidden from view. Many of the area's residents are direct descendants of the people who populated, toiled in, or commodified the swamp. Together, they form a community wrapped in conflict over the ways in which the truth of the past and its obfuscation continue to shape the present.

In a nation whose every territory is drenched in overlapping legacies of violence and erasure, the Dismal stands as a most American tangle. It is scarred. And yet it is anointed.

By the canal, Sheppard and I opened the doors to his car and kept them ajar until it cooled. As we turned out of the lot, I wondered aloud whether what he was getting at earlier-ensuring that any efforts to memorialize this place benefit the offspring of American slavery-was not unlike the call for reparations. For a substantial amount of time neither of us spoke. "So you get reparations. What does that do to your spirit and psychology?" he asked, the swamp undulating in the distance. "You've been mortified for 400 years. You can't tell me that's not passed down through your DNA."

The archaeologist tugged on his straw hat and strode into the forest. He raised a cloud of pollen when his boots thumped on the sun-bleached boards of the wooden trail. It was high noon and 94 degrees outside, but he wore two layers, a tan vest over a plum T-shirt, along with a pair of thick blue jeans. About two miles from the nearest entrance to the Dismal, Dan Sayers-the first excavator to unearth evidence of maroons in the swamp-led me beneath the tree canopy.

"You can see it's getting a little more swampy," Sayers said, gesturing toward a stretch of muddy pools hugging the pathway. Within 20 steps, insects were diving at our necks, ears, and faces. Another 30 steps, and we were enveloped by the sounds of cicadas, crickets, warblers, parulas, northern mockingbirds, frogs, weasels, squirrels, and southern bog lemmings. Sayers wanted me to get a feel for the wilderness before we set out for the archaeological sites he's worked at for the past 15 years.

This trail is one of many built by the Fish and Wildlife Service for public use. Most trails are located near major canals, or "ditches" as they're known throughout the swamp. There are 49 ditches in the Dismal, seven of which connect to Lake Drummond, the 5-square-mile lake in its center. The larger Dismal Swamp Canal stretches along the swamp's eastern border. The land is carved and defined by these man-made tributaries.

The path we walked on is just off Washington Ditch, named after then-general George Washington. In 1763, Washington, along with his brother John, helped cofound a conglomerate with the hopes of draining the Dismal, clearing its sizable cypress, Atlantic cedar, and white pine groves, and converting the area into farmland. The idea mirrored one originally put forth by the British loyalist William Byrd. In 1728, Byrd published a proposal entreating the crown to sell the swamp to him and a group of buyers for a cut of their future profits. To accomplish the undertaking, Byrd requested that King George II's government provide 3.7 million pounds, which he estimated would be spent on 180 enslaved laborers over eight years. Because of the grueling nature of the work, Byrd wrote that an especially young enslaved population would be necessary:

And for those which happen to dye, 'tis probable that their place will be fully supplyd by their children. ... It will be prudent to lay out part of the money in boys and girls, which will not only season better than men and women, but will be very soon fit for labour, and supply the mortality that must happen among so great a number.

Byrd's proposal was declined, but by 1763 Washington had gained approval for a scaled-down version of it. Instead of the crown subsidizing enslaved labor, Washington's Dismal Swamp Land Company agreed to furnish all costs independently. Each of the group's owners contributed at least five enslaved workers; Washington sent six. Their names were Harry, Jack, Caesar, Topsom, Nan, and Toney-who, according to Washington's diary, was still "a boy." By the late 1780s, the company had failed to drain the swamp and pivoted to solely exporting lumber. Within five years, three other outfits had opened up shop, all of them dependent on slavery.

"It's almost like he was calling me. How many other ancestors are out there calling their descendants?" -Eric Sheppard, descendant of Moses Grandy, who lived in the Dismal

As soon as enslaved labor enveloped the land around the Dismal, rumors of lawless runaways congregating in the wilderness began to circulate. Alexander Spotswood, the lieutenant governor of the Virginia colony, referred to the swamp in a 1714 report as a "no-man's-land" where "loose and disorderly people daily flock." In 1728, Byrd wrote about encountering "a family of Mulattos that called themselves free" in the area, a claim that, he said, "seemed a little doubtful." By 1767, John Washington had taken to running ads in local newspapers in an attempt to apprehend one of the company's enslaved workers, a man named Tom, who had fled into the Dismal, never to be seen again. After the Revolutionary War, stories about runaways who lived in the bog for as many as 30 years spread among white residents. Multiple ads seeking the capture and return of fugitives appeared in newspapers as the number of lumber companies increased. A Yale graduate who had moved to the Dismal in 1817 as a tutor remarked that "traveling here without pistols is considered very dangerous owing to the great number of runaway negroes."

Between 1763 and 1863, hundreds of enslaved workers in the swamp cut hulking Atlantic cedar and cypress trunks into thousands of shingles. More than 8 million shingles were exported from the Dismal annually. Most enslaved workers were rented out on a yearly basis to logging outfits by their owners in nearby towns. In the wilderness, they lived on small hills made out of wood shavings from February to November.

If the workers did not meet their weekly quotas, they were punished mercilessly. In his autobiography, Moses Grandy recalled watching one overseer whip chattel laborers' backs raw, after which "pork or beef brine was put on their bleeding backs, to increase the pain." When they died of exhaustion or were killed by any of the threats posed by the environment, the work went on, their bodies discarded.

By the early 1800s, shingle production in the Dismal had become so profitable that some enslaved people were able to sell their over-quota stocks back to the lumber companies. Grandy emancipated himself in similar fashion, laboring in the wilderness and selling goods independently until he'd accumulated enough to pay back a white man who had agreed to purchase and free him. As long as the shingles came in on time, certain overseers were willing to ignore the presence of runaways looking for work. A few enslaved laborers even formed partnerships with fugitives, peddling food and supplies for an extra set of hands and a chance to increase their earnings. Ads that warned against both practices did virtually nothing to dissuade businesses.

For some workers, the Dismal was a death sentence. For others, it was salvation. What the swamp took, it gave back. These were the warring truths of this land: Its cruelties became inseparable from its possibilities.

Around midday, with the sun glaring, Sayers and I trudged through a thicket and left the gravel behind. Moving even a few feet off trail in the swamp requires both balance and attention. The forest floor is a bed of tricks. Sometimes a log that from a distance appears solid is, upon contact, as soft and malleable as a pile of leaves. At any moment the ground's texture can shift from light and airy to thick and mucky. There are no stretches of continuous dry land, but rather thousands of raised islands among a sea of blackwater pools.

When we arrived at the first excavation site, Sayers went searching the roughly 80-by-100-foot plot for artifacts. The gum trees lining the perimeter looked blue and misty in the distance. Sayers told me that this hummock was once used by enslaved lumberers, but it had likely been home to maroons decades earlier. As logging closed the gap with the outer world, fugitive enclaves moved farther into the swamp's interior.

A few clues remain from their occupation. The ground in the Dismal is primarily composed of peat, a waterlogged organic material that's made of decomposed plants and known for its moist and spongy composition. "Stone is not natural to the swamp or its islands," Sayers said, having located the head of an ancient hammer. "If it's here, it had to have been brought in."

To reach a second site of maroon residence, we hiked through a sprawling cypress pond with coffee-colored water that rose to our hips. Some of the sparse but exceedingly wide trees had toppled into channels, where they bobbed and floated until they sank and blackened and greened. I asked Sayers what kinds of snakes live in the Dismal, and he turned his head to me while slogging. "There's a lot of them," he said. "The ones that you're probably thinking of are water moccasins. We got two kinds of rattlesnake, and those are the ones I worry about the most. I spend most of my time on dry ground."

Sayers first heard about the Dismal in 2001 from a faculty adviser at the College of William & Mary. He was looking for a topic for his doctoral thesis, and he fell in love with the swamp's history. Years later, when he assembled a team and gained access to the area, nobody was sure what he would find. Until then, the consensus among historians was that runaways had likely used the Dismal as a stop on their journeys north, but it was doubtful that permanent communities could have developed undisturbed. In the 15 years since Sayers and his colleagues began working in the bog, they've done more than just prove that stable enclaves existed. They've constructed an idea of how these groups lived.

Pointing with his left index finger, Sayers mapped out what a settlement would've looked like. "There are going to be posts in the ground," he said. "That means their homes are raised off the ground-and it's particularly imperative here because these are not high-elevation islands. So probably a foot, foot and a half, maybe two feet off the ground. The floor is then placed on those posts. Then they're raising 10-foot-tall walls all around themselves, and they put their wattle and daub roof on."

"If the folks that lived out here ... if those people give us some sense of how to proceed with our future ... that's about as close to moral as I'm going to get in my life." -Archaeologist Dan Sayers

Sayers took a sip from his water bottle and continued. "Kin groups are settling here, and after a generation or two they have kids, kids get married, somebody comes and joins the family-whatever it might be-and you need another cabin or two. They stay closer together. They nucleate a little bit, but then they're part of that wider village or community. If you look all around here and think of cabins that are 15 by 15 foot, maybe, or 15-by-20, there's a lot of room for a lot of people here just on this island alone. That's sort of what I've seen in almost all these islands."

Maroons probably grew gourds, cotton, onions, okra, garlic, rice, and other grains. Sayers has found evidence of weaponry, nails, and palisades, almost all of which are dated from the 18th century onward. He has also located other, older artifacts, like ancient flints and ceramics, which predate European contact but were buried in the same layers of soil as the newer relics. This suggests that maroons found and made use of them hundreds of years later. Sayers said that when enslaved Africans first began to flee into the area, they came into contact with Indigenous factions, forming a series of multiracial communities.

The layers of branches that surrounded the second site made it seem like it was ensconced in a protective haze. The place had a bygone quality. To observe the Dismal today is to behold the wreckage of a striking contradiction. It is the site of the most extensive chattel exodus in U.S. history, and yet it's home to perhaps the most violent forms of enslaved labor ever practiced. This spindly labyrinth of a swamp holds both the costs of slavery and the prices paid to resist it.

In the Dismal, Washington was a slave owner, an exploitative lumber baron. His captives were the true creators and inheritors of democracy. I asked Sayers whether he feels a moral duty to spread awareness of this history, to force the public to contend with what happened.

"Yes. It's in ethics," he said, pausing in the shade. "Well, it comes from the profession, in part. I've loved archaeology since I can remember."

"But every archaeology site isn't this?" I said.

"No, right. Exactly," he said. "If the folks that lived out here ... if those people give us some sense of how to proceed with our future-even if it's not the map, but if it has parts of that map and we can get creative in our own time with it-that's about as close to moral as I'm going to get in my life."

Though most of Nat Turner's remains lie in the neighborhood, there are no grave sites bearing his name off Main Street in Courtland, Virginia-only comely blocks lined with high grass, bungalows, and the occasional poplar. Turner died here in 1831, hanged from a tree limb. Nearly 200 years after his death, Courtland has smooth asphalt roads with dust and gravel along the bends. It has railroad tracks with rotting foundations overcome with weeds. There are swing sets, turned green from the rain, and basketball hoops, dimpled and baked in the sun. But there are no markers for where Turner's body was torn to pieces. No indication of where his skin was mashed into grease. No flag for his rib cage; no sign for his legs. On a placid morning, I roamed Courtland's narrow byways and found no traces of the great insurrection, nor the force with which it was quelled.

The seat of Southampton County, Courtland is 34 miles west of the Dismal, about a 40-minute drive. That's all that separates the most well-known example of enslaved resistance in our national consciousness from the one that ought to be, but is likely the least. Turner's uprising was an outburst. The Dismal was a centuries-long leak. The proximity between the two is both intoxicating and inescapable. Taking in either space requires confronting their indelible connection.

There's a misconception that Turner was just a preacher, a man who labored solely with his mind. In truth, he also served as a plow hand. His mother did too. His father fled enslavement when Nat was a child, and their master never found him. Nat tried to run away in his early 20s, but came back after a month. He thought of rebellion often. "As I was praying one day at my plow," he's alleged to have said in The Confessions of Nat Turner, "the spirit spoke to me ... for the time was fast approaching when the first should be last and the last should be first." A solar eclipse arrived soon after. He thought it was a sign from God.

There's another misconception about Turner: that he was the sole architect of the plan to liberate the enslaved people of Southampton County. In reality, the rebellion was a collective action that depended on a number of others who handled recruiting. Turner wanted to carry out the operation on July 4, but he came down sick that day. On August 13, the sun suddenly turned pale green, and he believed the lord had again shown the way. The following weekend, he and the other rebels killed his master, Joseph Travis. Within hours, 59 white people were dead, some by hatchet, others by gunshot. No one was spared. The group grew in numbers with each freed plantation. Their last victim was a widow named Rebecca Vaughan. They let her pray before they shot her.

What doomed Turner was that he was too committed to the task at hand. The rebels wanted to stop at another plantation on the way to the local armory, and Turner didn't say no. A squad of white men ambushed them and shattered the uprising.

Of course that's not how it ended. The thing that is rarely considered about Turner's rebellion-the thing you won't learn driving through Courtland-is that the number of people Turner and his partners killed pales in comparison to the number of deaths dealt in backlash. No one is sure how many Black people were killed in response to the insurrection, but most estimates peg it in the hundreds, possibly in the thousands. "Negroes are taken in different directions and executed every day," one white resident wrote at the time. Heads were mounted on poles, bodies burned at the stake.

A few weeks before Turner was caught, the editor of The Richmond Whig referred "with pain" to "the slaughter of many blacks without trial and under circumstances of great barbarity." On August 27, 1831, a letter from a local reverend was published in The Liberator that said "many negroes are killed every day: the exact number will never be ascertained." The Southern Advocate reported on October 15 of that year that more than 100 Black people had been killed in Southampton County alone. As far north as Delaware and as far south as Alabama, enslaved people were arrested and killed. The NC Star declared that the rebellion was the product of "runaway negroes," assuring its readers, "few if any of the plantation hands had joined."

At least eight articles from four different Virginia newspapers published between August 25 and 30 claimed that the insurrection was based out of the Dismal. On September 6, a company of white men went into the swamp and returned days later with 12 runaways, whom they falsely held responsible for the violence.

"Then I say, 'Here's how maroons are remembered and celebrated in the United States,' and it's a blank slide. Because that's exactly what is the truth in the United States. There's no knowledge, there's no consciousness." -Historian Sylviane Diouf

In her exhaustive text Slavery's Exiles, the historian Sylviane Diouf tracks slave owners and government officials' growing fear about the development of a large maroon community. Diouf found that colonial Virginia's legislature passed multiple laws to eradicate resistance among the enslaved during the 17th century. In the 18th century, North Carolina's colonial government passed at least three similar pieces of legislation, one of which made it illegal for runaways to live "in the Swamps, Woods and other Obscure places." Elites like William Byrd were aware of maroon societies that had developed in the Caribbean and in South America. Byrd was so concerned about maroons taking over Virginia's Blue Ridge Mountains that in 1736 he formally urged the crown to explore the lands and erect forts "to prevent the negroes taking refuge there, as they do in the mountains of Jamaica."

By 1847 the North Carolina Legislature had passed "An Act to provide for the apprehension of runaway slaves in the Great Dismal Swamp." In 1849, it approved another, similar bill.

Part of why the planter class attempted to destroy and erase maroon communities was that marooning was not just an act of defiance, but of collective resistance. In the short term, it was dependent on the help of allies still caught in the web of slavery. When maroons couldn't find permanent exile communities, they stayed close to home and returned to their families for supplies. In the long term, maroonage required a form of radical, multiracial community building. "Maroons did not need white people to free themselves," Diouf told me last fall. "So abolitionists totally ignored them. In the South, white slaveholders had no incentive to be talking too much about them, because it did not look very good for them to have these people living under their noses."

When we spoke, Diouf had just finished giving a lecture at a university in South Carolina. In her presentation, she shared examples of how other countries with descendants of enslaved Africans have celebrated maroons across the diaspora. Maroons appear on dollar bills in Jamaica. They have statues in Mexico. They have holidays named in their honor in Brazil.

"Then I say, 'Here's how maroons are remembered and celebrated in the United States,' and it's a blank slide," Diouf said. "Because that's exactly what is the truth in the United States. There's no knowledge, there's no consciousness."

The town of Courtland, which was originally known as Jerusalem, sprouted up around the first version of the Southampton courthouse where Turner was tried and convicted. The building is different now. It was remade three years after the rebellion, and remodeled again in 1924. The edifice still has an ancient feel: Pillars hold up a pediment with a small circular window in the middle; big, heavy doors with chipped white paint mark the front entrance.

The sheriff's department directly next to the property houses the same unit that hunted down Turner in October 1831. A couple of constables found him hiding in a log two months after most of the other conspirators behind the rebellion had already been executed. To the left of the courthouse, a gazebo peeks into view. It's in this very spot that Turner was held for a month before he was killed.

While lingering under the gazebo, I noticed that there are no markers bearing his name, only a path to the parking lot off the Nottoway River out back. I paced away from the cars and toward the stream. A single monument rests in front of its muddy banks. It's an obelisk cut from smooth gray stone that stands at least 20 feet tall. Engraved bricks surround the structure. In front is a black plaque with gold lettering:

Not Forgotten
The two hundred and nineteen names that are engraved on the bricks before you are the men from Southampton County who gave their lives defending their family, friends and their homes from the northern invaders. They were killed in action or died from wounds or disease in the War of Northern Aggression 1861-1865. We honor their bravery and sacrifice. We will not forget their struggle to preserve the principles on which our country was founded.

The monument, in the shadow of the courthouse, looked crisp and glaring. Fresh roses and a miniature American flag rippled at its feet.

When Donald McEachin began serving in the Virginia General Assembly in 1996, he found something in the budget that appalled him: The commonwealth was paying the United Daughters of the Confederacy, a group devoted to the preservation of Lost Cause iconography, $50,000 a year. Virginia has a number of Confederate grave sites, particularly in the areas surrounding Richmond, the onetime capital of the Confederate States of America. After becoming a U.S. representative, McEachin did some digging and discovered that the Assembly had agreed to cover the costs of maintaining many of these sites. He and a few other Black legislators moved to cut funding to the program, but their efforts never built up enough steam.

"This was sort of shocking to me," the congressman told me in November. "That we had that in the Virginia budget, but we weren't doing anything for African American slave graves."

McEachin grew up in Richmond, and his parents taught him from a young age that enslaved people resisted bondage at every turn. They exposed him to the history of Gabriel's rebellion in nearby Henrico County, Turner's revolt in Southampton, and the experience of maroons in the Great Dismal Swamp. As he watched the Virginia Assembly not only turn its back on the preservation of Black history, but uplift the legacy of seditionists, McEachin was taught another lesson: We will confront nothing if we are not made to.

"How do I counterbalance this?" he remembered thinking. "How do I make sure that all of American history is told?"

Shortly after being elected to Congress in 2016, McEachin looked over the map for Virginia's 4th District. It is the same area that John Mercer Langston once represented as Virginia's first Black congressman. McEachin saw the swamp looming to the edge and realized this was his chance. He introduced the Great Dismal Swamp National Heritage Area Act in February 2021.

There is no guarantee that the bill will make its way through Congress. It was approved by the House in September, but it's been left virtually untouched by the Senate Committee on the Environment and Public Works ever since. Even if it passes, there would be more steps before a heritage site could be approved: a feasibility study, a funding proposal, multiple election cycles. The entire process could take up to a decade. There may not be enough political muscle to push it through.

I asked McEachin about the symmetry of fighting the same battles over and over, all of them rooted in enslavement. "I believe we are better off than we have been," he said. "But have we healed? No."

The Camden County Heritage Museum is not known for its looks. Its interior is made of cinder blocks and painted white. The arrangement is basically one big suite. Since it opened in 2017, its two septuagenarian curators, Alex Leary and Brian Forehand, have kept a log of their visitors in a handwritten notebook. It took over a year to reach 1,000 names.

"We have a little bit less than 11,000 people living here," Forehand said of the county, after greeting me at the entrance. "And we have two stop lights."

"No," Leary corrected him. "We got three now."

The perimeter of the museum was lined with waist-high glass cases that housed arrowheads, old books, baseball mitts, a miniature replica of the early 1900s steamboat Annie L. Vansciver, and an even smaller replica of the old Wade Point Lighthouse. Above the cases hung a collection of display boards that contained brief episodic summaries of the county's history. Some were related to enslavement.

Leary and Forehand are retired high school history teachers; both are white men who were born and raised in the county. Many of the items threaded throughout the museum were their personal mementos. At times, it was difficult to parse where the exhibits began and their memories ended.

"How do I counterbalance this? How do I make sure that all of American history is told?" -U.S. Representative Donald McEachin

In addition to the glass display cases, there were multiple mannequins dressed in period costumes from the colonial era, the Civil War, and World Wars I and II. In the back of the museum was a row of old school desks, cut from oak. After surveying the place, I asked the curators what they were taught about enslavement growing up. "I was born in '45. He was born in '43. So for the first 18 years of my life, I lived a segregated life," said Forehand, stretching the i in life to its outer limits. "Slavery was just something that, I just accepted. ... We were in a fog. You know?"

We inched toward a gray plastic table. Leary, who's slightly taller than Forehand and has a rounded nose and face, pulled up a nearby chair. He spoke at a gradual tempo. "We were exposed to the Civil War and slavery," he said. "The old sayings and everything."

One of the boards on the walls was dedicated to Moses Grandy. Forehand told me that when he learned Grandy was from Camden, he felt compelled to bring the freedman's story to the museum. In recent years, both he and Leary have welcomed multiple visitors hoping to track down information on their enslaved ancestors. "My relatives owned slaves," Forehand said. "My great-great-grandfather had slaves. And I guess it was just like when I was living in segregation: 'That's the way life is.'"

The museum sits about 25 miles from the Dismal, and even closer to the Great Dismal Swamp Canal. Since it had an exhibit on Grandy, I asked the curators whether they had heard of the maroons. Forehand said he only knew the swamp might've been a stop on the Underground Railroad. Leary wasn't sure.

"A lot of them escaped, but there's more talked about sometimes than what actually happened," he said. "They attacked a few people, but really it wasn't that many."

"What if I told you that there were thousands of maroons who lived in the swamp for extended periods of time?" I asked. "What would you say?"

"That," Leary said, "would be a fairly high number for me."

When he was a boy, Sam Bass used to hunt for deer and black bears in the Dismal with his father and uncle. They knew the swamp like an extension of their bodies; after all, they lay ancestral claim to the land. For thousands of years, the Nansemond, Chesapeake, Chowanoke, and Meherrin people all used the area, most often as hunting grounds, staying sporadically in the bog. There are legends of tribes openly sharing the land. As white settlers arrived and enslaved Native people in Virginia's Tidewater region, some tribes moved into the Dismal, hoping it would provide protection and reclusivity.

Sitting in a small Starbucks in Suffolk, Virginia, away from the summer heat, Bass told me that family memories were once all he knew of the swamp. Then he joined the Dismal Swamp Stakeholder Collaborative, a group of descendants, academics, and community leaders who have been lobbying Congress to consider and approve a national heritage site in the region for years. After learning about the history of slavery in the Dismal and observing the introduction of McEachin's bill, he felt compelled to ensure that the real history came through-not "the white man telling the story that doesn't show the cruelty."

A former chief of the nearby Nansemond Tribe, Bass has wide nostrils and hair that is mostly gray, save for a few flecks of black. He has lived near the swamp for his entire life, and is still a member of the Nansemond governing council. On the day we met, he wore a mask with an overlapping triangular design of orange, brown, and green. He told me that most folks in the area don't even know his tribe exists. "They don't have a clue," he said in a low hum. "Now, the majority of the people that do not know, when they learn of us, they are, for the most part, appreciative to learn. They're quick to say, 'You Indians were really treated bad.'"

He looked at me, out of the corners of his eyes. "You Indians," he repeated.

When I asked about the prospects of the bill, Bass pointed to depictions of Indigenous people in popular culture, and the continuing endurance of false stereotypes. He doubted the community was willing to interrogate the actions of their ancestors, let alone the way those actions reverberate in the present. "Most of it is nothing but for show. They're not going to come through with what they're talking about," Bass said. "I still think the history needs to be out there, but I don't think that they'll grasp [it]."

He sometimes paused for a beat before answering a question. He took his time. Bass wanted me to know that he loves his home. But he knows his home's history just as much. "Out here it's like the Dismal Swamp," Bass drawled. "I have to figure out how to maneuver."

The storefront emptied as we spoke. When Bass first sat down, he dragged his chair from the side of our small metal table and positioned it across from me, facing the door. He said he has a concealed carry permit.

"I'm not looking for no trouble," Bass told me. "But I want to protect myself."

Eric Sheppard walked past a map. It was erected by the Chesapeake Department of Parks, Recreation, and Tourism on the outer lip of the Dismal Swamp Canal, featuring the title "Great Dismal Swamp National Wildlife Refuge" and the subtitle "Not only a refuge for wildlife, but also a refuge for people ..." Sheppard fixed his gaze on it. He halted outright, his pupils scanning the posting, and then turned to me.

"Sometimes people don't mind the history being shared now because of what it represents monetarily," he said. "It becomes a national heritage area, that's millions of dollars coming in here."

This was not the first time Sheppard expressed concern that an influx of money could undermine the quest to guard and uplift the area's history. As Grandy's story has gained recognition in recent years, Sheppard has grown increasingly doubtful that everyone who's attached themselves to it has the right motives for doing so. He has no interest in spreading tales that make it seem like the arc of this country's history bends toward justice. If anything, Sheppard would like Grandy's life to show that people should leave where they're not welcome. "Show me a document, give me a story, give me something based on history, where people who've been enslaved on a massive scale, around 400 years, have ever found their promised land inside the land of their captivity," Sheppard said.

Other residents and descendants I spoke to voiced similar concerns about the push to commodify the swamp's history. Nikki Bass, who like Sam Bass is a member of the Nansemond Tribe, grew up in Baltimore but heard about the Dismal from her late father's side of the family. Her grandfather moved back and forth between Maryland and Virginia during her childhood; he and other relatives taught her about their family's forebears, including free and enslaved people of mixed descent.

As an adult, Bass has spent years tracking down her family's history. Since her grandfather passed away a few years ago, she's mostly had to search on her own. She taught herself to locate land records, wills, census data, and other historical documents in her spare time away from work. She runs a website called Descendants of the Great Dismal, where she posts about her findings. With the rush of attention on the swamp, Bass told me that histories like her family's are flattened to make them more digestible.

"I keep seeing people tell stories of maroons escaping into the swamp and the Underground Railroad, and thenthey never tell you anything after that," she said. "I am extremely proud of the history of resistance. I just don't want the story to stop there."

"Most of it is nothing but for show. They're not going to come through with what they're talking about. I still think the history needs to be out there, but I don't think that they'll grasp [it]." -Sam Bass, member of the Dismal Swamp Stakeholder Collaborative

One of the relatives who Bass uncovered is a man named Romulus Sawyer. She says he freed at least 28 family members from bondage, likely moving them through the Dismal to Norfolk. She looks at her ancestors' narratives and sees proof of the lives that folks carved out in and around the swamp. Those lives were shaped by slavery, but not halted by it. And they did not end with emancipation.

"Moses Grandy's narrative is phenomenal. It's rare, but we have to tell all the stories," Bass said. "I hardly ever see anyone talking about women in the swamp, ever. And I also don't see anyone acknowledging that gap."

When I spoke to researchers and historians like Diouf, they were likewise troubled by the limited scope of the swamp's coverage. Diouf pointed to the lack of attention that certain forms of resistance receive in the public eye. "In the United States there's this image of people, arms in hands, being the heroes and fighting and this kind of masculine type of opposition," she said. "But there are many ways that people used to resist and attack and protect themselves from enslavement."

Warren Milteer, a professor at UNC Greensboro who grew up less than a mile from the swamp, said that the entire picture of the Dismal has not yet been conveyed. He told me that the lack of an expansive dialogue makes it difficult for residents to feel attached to the past. His ancestors were part of a substantial free-born mixed-race community that developed along the periphery of the swamp; due to their proximity to whiteness, they were able to pass down property over time. "There's a disconnect between making maroons central to the story of the swamp and the everyday lives of the vast majority of people who actually lived around the swamp and had connections to it," Milteer said. "Including the enslaved population."

Sheppard, for his part, just wants folks to see that the swamp's history is about more than any one person. The reason he cherishes Grandy's narrative is not because of a single lesson or detail therein. It's because it is one of his few ties to all his ancestors. Reading about Grandy's life, his escape, his joy and pain, is the only way Sheppard can grasp and exalt them.

"It's hundreds of thousands of them who wasn't fortunate enough to leave a slave narrative," Sheppard said. "We have to make sure that we find ways to include them, the ones with no names. The ones who are lost."

"You see how my eyes are set back?" Sylvia Murphy asked, craning her neck. "I have deep-set eyes, like him. He had very high cheekbones, very narrow face. Hair like cotton, all white, but he wouldn't let you touch it. He never combed his hair. I kid you not, my granddaddy never combed his hair. It was never nothing to do. It was just soft."

Murphy, 63, was describing her late grandfather Jephthah Hunt. I had spent months searching for a direct descendant of a Dismal maroon. There are thousands around the swamp who could be related to maroons, thousands whose homes have been here for years. They are shrouded among the populace. Sayers, the archaeologist, says he's never been able to find a descendant in more than two decades of research. A documentary crew from Old Dominion University set off to locate one in the early 2010s, but failed to identify a single subject.

There are few accounts of maroons or their kin from either before or after emancipation. In 1856, the writer and landscape architect Frederick Law Olmsted published an article based on a multiday journey to the Dismal. He wrote that some locals believed the maroon population had decreased due to "systematic hunting of them with dogs and guns." Others he encountered swore "there were people in the swamps still." That same year, in an article published in Harper's Magazine, the novelist David Hunter Strother wrote that he saw a maroon in the canebrake, "with a tattered blanket wrapped about his shoulders, and a gun in his hand."

During the Civil War, two Northern soldiers claimed to have encountered maroons. The first said he met a runaway who maintained he'd been living among an exile community for decades. The second wrote that while he was in the swamp with his infantry company, a family of nine runaways "came into our line" before suddenly disappearing. After the war, at least two others attested to meeting maroons. In 1888, the author Robert Arnold contended that in the 1840s he talked to a fugitive who fled into the swamp after killing a white man. In 1895, a former Confederate soldier named Alexander Hunter published an article that mentioned his meeting with a runaway in the Dismal in the 1870s. The man told him that "he had remained hidden in the swamp for 19 years."

Today, a few families in the area believe their ancestors used the swamp as a stopgap on longer journeys to freedom, but not as a place of permanent residence. People aren't exactly chatty either way. After emancipation, the Dismal was a moonshine hub. Some longtime residents are hesitant to say too much about days past.

I contacted multiple members of the Dismal Swamp Stakeholder Collaborative while looking for a confirmed maroon descendant, but only one had any inkling of where to start. She pointed me to Murphy, who had worked for Representative McEachin. Murphy called me and we agreed to meet outside a shopping center in Suffolk.

"Show me a document, give me a story, give me something based on history, where people who've been enslaved on a massive scale, around 400 years, have ever found their promised land inside the land of their captivity." -Eric Sheppard

Jephthah was small and had a pointed nose-at least, that's the way Murphy remembers him. "He always told my mom he was Cherokee," she said. Her grandfather often claimed his parents were the ones who informed him of his mixed ancestry, but no one in the family could be sure if that was true. He was born in Franklin, Virginia, though most of his relatives were from Southampton County. Murphy recalls that he was always out hunting and fishing; she thinks he may have even gone to the Dismal when the weather was right. He had a long green canoe that he sometimes took with him.

"He brought fish home every day," she said, adjusting her black visor. "He knew the woods very well. You never heard him come up on you. You could be standing there, right there, you would hear somebody else come up. You wouldn't hear him because he believed in the earth. It was like, 'I know the earth.' He would always say that to me. 'Sylvie, you got to know the earth. You got to listen to the earth.'"

She put both hands on her cup of iced tea. "I did not know what that meant until he died."

Murphy told me that on the day Hunt passed away, he asked her to visit him. "It was weird," she said. "He just said the earth was calling him." She stayed with her grandfather for a few hours. She thought he seemed fine. Later that evening, though, he walked into the kitchen and turned both of the faucet handles on. Then he walked out to the backyard. When hours passed and Hunt hadn't returned, Murphy's family panicked.

"They called the police, and the police came, and they took flashlights and went back there. My granddaddy had went all the way in the corner of the fence and laid down and put his head onto himself-like this," she said, bunching her torso to her knees. "And he was dead. He said the earth was calling him."

A few years ago, Murphy was invited to a meeting of the stakeholder collaborative. She listened as experts described the maroons: how they were a mix of Black and Native ancestry, how they lived off the land. She thought of her grandfather. Some of his people had been enslaved, but others she wasn't certain about. She convinced her mother to take a DNA test in the hope that it might provide clarity.

In the late-afternoon heat, Murphy pulled up the results from an app on her phone. She said she wanted to show me. The longer I spent around the Dismal, encircled by locals like Murphy, the more I found myself inspecting every visage, looking for every lost face. With each passing day, the search for descendants felt increasingly maddening. They must be here, I thought again and again, yet everywhere I go they escape me.

Murphy cradled the glowing device. She set it in my hands. It contained a multicolored pie chart and bar graphs. The results indicated her mother was from the "Virginia Tidewater" area. They said that she was almost entirely of African descent.

A sliver of a note glittered from the bottom of the screen. The nation "Cameroon" was spelled out in thick lettering.

The car kicked gravel from under my tires on my last visit to the Dismal. The loblolly pines hugged the road. I parked in a dusty lot, the morning air fresh and cool. The swamp's lost figures entered my mind.

It took me six months of interviews, database searches, and library visits before I finally located an in-depth account from a maroon. It's attributed to a runaway named "Charles," and was written in vernacular and printed in an abolitionist magazine. I studied the piece so often that by the time I set foot in the bog, it came to me in effortless and instinctive fragments, almost like a memory of my own.

In the tale, Charles describes families and children all living and working in unison in the Dismal. He says maroons chose to reside near one another for protection and security. They thrived and lifted each other up, as if they all had "one head and one heart." He recalls canebrake, 30 feet high, and mammoth cypresses, which shrouded the enclave from the outside world. He gives a glimpse of their lives.

At the end of the narrative, Charles declines to say how he journeyed to Canada from the swamp. He doesn't want to tip off any slave catchers. There'd be "lots more boys comin' [the] same way I did."

"I am extremely proud of the history of resistance. I just don't want the story to stop there." -Nikki Bass, who runs the website Descendants of the Great Dismal

From the vacant entrance, I followed the raised wooden pathway with sideburns of verdant moss growing on its edges. I walked through towering black gum groves with limbs 60 feet high. I trekked past so much green that it started to blur-too much green to even see the leaves-until I hit the Underground Railroad pavilion, nestled in the mire. It's a small, wall-less structure, made of metal and painted dark green.

It appeared abandoned. Not decrepit-its floorboards were relatively fresh. On the eastern-facing side, a film of dust had bloomed beneath a mounted informational display titled "Maroons and Resistance in the Great Dismal Swamp." Some dirt lined the top.

There was no litter on the premises, no footprints whatsoever. The ferns, from the forest, were ready to creep over the floor. Someone had built this monument in the web of vegetation. And there were hardly any traces that it had been visited.

I stepped out from underneath the roof. The structure looked rejected in the gleam of the morning light. The pathway out to the road seemed to shrink from this vantage point. After 10 feet of boardwalk, the swamp appeared to engulf its sides. The land would take it, if we will not have it. I pictured Charles moving in the brush, swaying with the leaves.

I turned back to the trail. It was there and then it wasn't. The path seemed hidden. The tangle surrounded me.

A mockingbird called out from the pines.

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The Hidden and Eternal Spirit of the Great Dismal Swamp

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For nearly all of its modern existence, the Great Dismal Swamp has been excluded from U.S. history. Now there's a push to bring its significance to light-and it's revealing what really goes into remembering the truths of our ancestors.

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Part of the Black Experience is believing the impossible is possible. -1619 Project (documentary)

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Part of the Black Experience is believing the impossible is possible. -1619 Project (documentary)

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American slavery began 400 years ago this month. This is referred to as the country’s original sin, but it is more than that: It is the country’s true origin.

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Part of the Emergent Strategy Series. Self-help, society-help, and planet-help to shape the futures we want. A resolutely materialist spirituality based equally on science and science fiction: a wild feminist and afro-futurist ride!Inspired by Octavia Bu

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Parable of the Sower

(Grand Central Publishing, Paperback, aPRIL 2019)
This highly acclaimed post-apocalyptic novel of hope and terror from award-winning author Octavia E. Butler "pairs well with 1984 or The Handmaid's Tale" (John Green, New York Times)
Now with a new foreword by N. K. JEMISIN

When global climate change and economic crises lead to social chaos in the early 2020s, California becomes full of dangers, from pervasive water shortage to masses of vagabonds who will do anything to live to see another day. Fifteen-year-old Lauren Olamina lives inside a gated community with her preacher father, family, and neighbors, sheltered from the surrounding anarchy. In a society where any vulnerability is a risk, she suffers from hyperempathy, a debilitating sensitivity to others' emotions.

Precocious and clear-eyed, Lauren must make her voice heard in order to protect her loved ones from the imminent disasters her small community stubbornly ignores. But what begins as a fight for survival soon leads to something much more: the birth of a new faith . . . and a startling vision of human destiny.

Parable of the Talents

(Grand Central Publishing, Paperback, august 2019)
Originally published in 1998, this shockingly prescient novel's timely message of hope and resistance in the face of fanaticism is more relevant than ever.
In 2032, Lauren Olamina has survived the destruction of her home and family, and realized her vision of a peaceful community in northern California based on her newly founded faith, Earthseed. The fledgling community provides refuge for outcasts facing persecution after the election of an ultra-conservative president who vows to "make America great again." In an increasingly divided and dangerous nation, Lauren's subversive colony-a minority religious faction led by a young black woman-becomes a target for President Jarret's reign of terror and oppression.Years later, Asha Vere reads the journals of a mother she never knew, Lauren Olamina. As she searches for answers about her own past, she also struggles to reconcile with the legacy of a mother caught between her duty to her chosen family and her calling to lead humankind into a better future.

(Seven Stories Press, hardcover, February 2017)

New Introduction by GLORIA STEINEM

Parable of the Sower is the Butlerian odyssey of one woman who is twice as feeling in a world that has become doubly dehumanized. The time is 2025. The place is California, where small walled communities must protect themselves from hordes of desperate scavengers and roaming bands of people addicted to a drug that activates an orgasmic desire to burn, rape, and murder. When one small community is overrun, Lauren Olamina, an 18 year old black woman with the hereditary train of "hyperempathy"-which causes her to feel others' pain as her own-sets off on foot along the dangerous coastal highways, moving north into the unknown.

Available from: Seven Stories Press, Amazon, Indie Bound, Powell's Books, Barnes & Noble

(Seven Stories Press, hardcover, February 2017)

New Introduction by TOSHI REAGON

Parable of the Talents celebrates the Butlerian themes of alienation and transcendence, violence and spirituality, slavery and freedom, separation and community, to astonishing effect, in the shockingly familiar, broken world of 2032. Long awaited, Parable of the Talents is the continuation of the travails of Lauren Olamina, the heroine of 1994′s Nebula-Prize finalist, bestselling Parable of the Sower. It is told in the voice of Lauren Olamina's daughter-from whom she has been separated for most of the girl's life-with sections in the form of Lauren's journal. Against a background of a war-torn continent, and with a far-right religious crusader in the office of the U.S. presidency, this is a book about a society whose very fabric has been torn asunder, and where the basic physical and emotional needs of people seem almost impossible to meet.

As Ms. Butler herself explained, " Parable of the Sower was a book about problems. I originally intended that Parable of the Talents be a book about solutions. I don't have the solutions, so what I've done here is looked at the solutions that people tend to reach for when they're feeling troubled and confused."

And yet, human life, oddly, thrives in this unforgettable novel. And the young Lauren of Parable of the Sower here blossoms into the full strength of her womanhood, complex and entirely credible.

Available from: Seven Stories Press, Barnes & Noble, Indie Bound, Powell's Books

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This highly acclaimed post-apocalyptic novel of hope and terror from award-winning author Octavia E. Butler "pairs well with 1984 or The Handmaid's Tale" (John Green, New York Times) Now with a new foreword by N. K.

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"The Destination of Earthseed is to take root among the Stars."

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"The Destination of Earthseed is to take root among the Stars."

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Parable of the Sower by Octavia Butler

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An iHeart Radio nominated podcast, A Little Juju Podcast celebrates the rapidly growing return of Black folk reclaiming their indigenous spiritual practices, while creating a space for us to laugh, question, and re-commit ourselves to liberation through the ancestral tools given to us.

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M4BL Presents Black Futures: An Ode to Freedom Summer

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M4BL Presents Black Futures: An Ode to Freedom Summer

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M4BL Presents Black Futures:  An Ode to Freedom Summer