When I think of
lynching, the scene from the end of the film O Brother, Where Art Thou? comes to mind starring George Clooney. In it, three fugitives in southern
Mississippi find themselves standing on a box awaiting the nooses that hang
from a tree (for the clip: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WsrIYleq2KY). Ironically, in comparison
to the readings on Ida B. Wells, these three men were white, guilty of their
crimes, and three black men stood before them digging their graves. Fortunately for the movie’s protagonists a
great flood came and washed through the valley saving them by a stroke of God
from impending death. Not so fortunately
in real life, Wells, Watkins, and Royster frequently cite the unjust and
untried lynching of 3 prominent black businessmen in Memphis on March 9, 1892.
Both Watkins and Royster condone the “Killing at the Curve”
on the grounds of jealousy and fear of black power—though not to be confused
with Malcolm X’s mid-20th century Black Power movement. A white store owner nearby felt threatened by
the successful “People’s Grocery” to the point that he put matters into his own
hands, violent hands at that. As
discussed in class last week, history textbooks often gloss over the experiences
of blacks between Reconstruction and the “Civil Rights Movement.” Perhaps an advanced textbook, like my AP
American History book, will have a paragraph and a half about the lynchings and
the Jim Crow laws that oppressed Blacks for decades. That’s 60 years compartmentalized to about the
length of this post while single days, like the Boston Tea Party, get pages and
plenty of images. Clearly our “standard”
textbooks are the victim of bias and are instead a history Whiteness with
intentional omissions to the times when the power of Whiteness was not so
civil.
Indeed Ida B. Wells was a leader in the Civil Rights
Movement just as much as Rosa Parks and other more heralded figures were leaders
in the Civil Rights Movement. Wells was
a Southerner, and proud of her Southern roots as they “set the stage for a life
of committed revolutionary activism.” (Watkin 123). Wells may not have been successful in
changing statutory laws, but her efforts emblazoned the embers of activism on a
national and international scale. Her
exile from Memphis in 1892 proved fortunate and empowering in the people she
would meet, but if Wells had not been exiled, Memphis African-Americans may
have overcome many more of the injustices raised against them. Wells’ leadership and her dexterity with
words combined to both enfranchise blacks with the tools to withstand
oppression and irate whites to the point of frivolous mob violence.
As a counter to the perspective of the readings, perhaps
some violence was warranted. Of the 241
lynchings in 1892, nearly one-sixth were charged on accounts or allegations of
murder (Wells, Red Record, 86). Surely some of the 58 lynched were guilty of
murder and under the historical and contextual premise of “an eye for an eye,”
death may have been an appropriate punishment.
However, the dehumanization and ritualization of the lynching process
certainly gives Wells and other plenty of reason for outcry. As if hanging was not enough, Wells explains
that many bodies were also shot and then burned. Last time I checked, You can Only Die Once. As such, Wells is not over-reaching to say “the
Afro-American race is more sinned against than sinning” (Wells Southern Horrors, 50).
Finally, I cannot let one of Watkins’ statements stand
unaddressed. She writes: “In chapter
thirty of Iola Leroy, the protagonist
delivers a stirring speech, ‘Education of Mothers,’ arguing the fate of the
race depends on the development of ‘enlightened’ mothers” (Watkins 121). I immediately was struck at the
transformation from an urgent need for developing mothers a century ago to the
pressing need for developing fathers in African-American communities
today. In Wells’ day, were black fathers
a consistent part of the home? What made
women fall short? On the other hand, the
development of mothers paid off as many impoverished African-American
communities encountered an epidemic of fatherlessness in the last half of the
20th century. I would appeal,
now in 2014, that the fate of not just the African-American race, but all races
currently depend on the development of “enlightened” fathers capable of
empowering and strengthening the family unit just like Wells and others
empowered and strengthened their families at the turn of the 20th
century.
Andrew, I really like your point about having both enlightened mothers and fathers. In my Japanese history class last year, one of our primary sources advocated for an educated class of women that could raise their sons to be strong Japanese men. In Japanese society, the men saw the women as a nurturing tool that they could utilize to further male dominance in society. In contrast, Watkins implies that the enlightenment of women could be a method to raise the status of the race as a whole, creating a link between two discriminated against subsets of society. This demonstrates the deep-rooted prejudice in American society at the time that repressed people on more than one basis. Ida Wells was not just in a precarious position because she was black. She was also a woman.
ReplyDeleteI like your inclusion of the scene from "O Brother, Where Art Thou?" because I think that it could likely be the first thing that many other people would think of as well when they think of lynching. This might be an issue because, as you pointed out, the men about to be lynched were guilty of the crimes they had been accused of, which does nothing to dispel the myth of lynchings being an unfortunate evil made necessary by actual crimes being committed. Ida B Wells wrote about believing this version of why lynching happened before her friends were lynched for being successful, and it's interesting to see that an image of justified lynchings can still be seen in popular media.
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