Imagine being enslaved for over 30 years and then gaining your freedom, only to have the man who enslaved you ask you to come back and work for him a year later. Unthinkable, right?

A letter written in 1865 by Jordan (sometimes spelled "Jordon") Anderson, a formerly enslaved man in Ohio, to his former "master" Colonel P.H. Anderson in Tennessee demonstrates the ridiculousness of such a request—and offers a cathartic takedown the colonel most definitely deserved. After being freed by the Union Army in 1864, Jordan and his wife moved to Ohio to live and work. In the meantime, Colonel Anderson found that his plantation had fallen into total disrepair without the benefit of enslaved labor, so he desperately wrote to Jordan to ask him to come back and help save the property. He promised to pay Jordan and treat him as a free man if he came to work for him.

The audacity, though. Phew.

Jordan Anderson's response to his former "master" is a masterclass takedown.

Jordan didn't owe the colonel a response at all. He could have just ignored the letter and moved on with his life, but instead, he chose to dictate his response through his employer, Valentine Winters, and have it published in the Cincinnati Commercial under the title, "Letter from a Freedman to His Old Master." It was a hit. In 2023, actor Laurence Fishburne read the letter on "Letters Live" in his signature sonorous voice, and his delivery showcased the brilliance and humor in Jordan's response.

Watch:

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The letter reads:

Dayton, Ohio,
August 7, 1865
To My Old Master, Colonel P.H. Anderson, Big Spring, Tennessee

Sir: I got your letter, and was glad to find that you had not forgotten Jordon, and that you wanted me to come back and live with you again, promising to do better for me than anybody else can. I have often felt uneasy about you. I thought the Yankees would have hung you long before this, for harboring Rebs they found at your house. I suppose they never heard about your going to Colonel Martin's to kill the Union soldier that was left by his company in their stable. Although you shot at me twice before I left you, I did not want to hear of your being hurt, and am glad you are still living. It would do me good to go back to the dear old home again, and see Miss Mary and Miss Martha and Allen, Esther, Green, and Lee. Give my love to them all, and tell them I hope we will meet in the better world, if not in this. I would have gone back to see you all when I was working in the Nashville Hospital, but one of the neighbors told me that Henry intended to shoot me if he ever got a chance.

I want to know particularly what the good chance is you propose to give me. I am doing tolerably well here. I get twenty-five dollars a month, with victuals and clothing; have a comfortable home for Mandy — the folks call her Mrs. Anderson, — and the children — Milly, Jane, and Grundy — go to school and are learning well. The teacher says Grundy has a head for a preacher. They go to Sunday school, and Mandy and me attend church regularly. We are kindly treated. Sometimes we overhear others saying, "Them colored people were slaves" down in Tennessee. The children feel hurt when they hear such remarks; but I tell them it was no disgrace in Tennessee to belong to Colonel Anderson. Many darkeys would have been proud, as I used to be, to call you master. Now if you will write and say what wages you will give me, I will be better able to decide whether it would be to my advantage to move back again.

As to my freedom, which you say I can have, there is nothing to be gained on that score, as I got my free papers in 1864 from the Provost-Marshal-General of the Department of Nashville. Mandy says she would be afraid to go back without some proof that you were disposed to treat us justly and kindly; and we have concluded to test your sincerity by asking you to send us our wages for the time we served you. This will make us forget and forgive old scores, and rely on your justice and friendship in the future. I served you faithfully for thirty-two years, and Mandy twenty years. At twenty-five dollars a month for me, and two dollars a week for Mandy, our earnings would amount to eleven thousand six hundred and eighty dollars. Add to this the interest for the time our wages have been kept back, and deduct what you paid for our clothing, and three doctor's visits to me, and pulling a tooth for Mandy, and the balance will show what we are in justice entitled to. Please send the money by Adams's Express, in care of V. Winters, Esq., Dayton, Ohio. If you fail to pay us for faithful labors in the past, we can have little faith in your promises in the future. We trust the good Maker has opened your eyes to the wrongs which you and your fathers have done to me and my fathers, in making us toil for you for generations without recompense. Here I draw my wages every Saturday night; but in Tennessee there was never any pay-day for the negroes any more than for the horses and cows. Surely there will be a day of reckoning for those who defraud the laborer of his hire.

In answering this letter, please state if there would be any safety for my Milly and Jane, who are now grown up, and both good-looking girls. You know how it was with poor Matilda and Catherine. I would rather stay here and starve — and die, if it come to that — than have my girls brought to shame by the violence and wickedness of their young masters. You will also please state if there has been any schools opened for the colored children in your neighborhood. The great desire of my life now is to give my children an education, and have them form virtuous habits.

Say howdy to George Carter, and thank him for taking the pistol from you when you were shooting at me.

From your old servant,
Jordon Anderson

It's a fitting answer to the colonel's audacity. Jordan basically raises his middle finger and tells his former enslaver where to put it, all under the guise of polite correspondence.

And nearly 160 years later, people are raving about it:

"Perfect example of how the 'slave' reveals to the 'master' his class, grace and dignity. Three cheers to him."

"What an incredible writer. Formal yet conversational, hilarious yet restrained, a respectful tone yet absolutely scathing."

"That was the most eloquent, most polite way to say the biggest F you I’ve ever heard. Amazing. I salute you sir."

"I love how, even amidst all his sarcasm and justice, down the years we can still hear how very proud he was of his children. Here’s hoping they led great lives together."

"The quietly suppressed rage just under the humor/sarcasm is brilliant. This man is amazing."

"Absolutely brilliant. This letter is savage. Never heard such eloquent sarcasm in my life. I can't believe the gall of a slave owner to attempt to "hire" one of his former slaves. Jourdon must have been 1 in a million. I hope his descendants found peace and prosperity."

"A while ago I clicked over to the Letters Live site and read this. It is my absolute favourite. Anderson is a wonderful deadpan wit who frames his argument devastatingly well. He was cheated of his calling as a writer in my view. I'm glad to know he lived to 81 years and had 11 children. We can hope his legacy lives on."

Indeed. You can find more details about Jordan Anderson's life here.