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History (Education)

The Statue of Liberty is a symbol of welcoming immigrants. That wasn't what she was made for.

Dr. Joy DeGruy explains how Lady Liberty's oft-ignored shackles symbolize her near-forgotten origins.

Photo credit: Canva (left), Atsme (right)

Many people are not aware of the chains at the Statue of Liberty's feet, much less why they are there.

With her flowing robes, flaming torch held high, and crown radiating out to the world like a beacon of hope, the Statue of Liberty has stood as an American emblem off the coast of New York for over two centuries.

If you were to ask the average American what they think of when they think of the Statue of Liberty, many would say she's a symbol of the liberty sought by people around the world who have come to our shores to find it. As the first American sight countless immigrants saw when they arrived at Ellis Island, with her pedestal bearing the words, "Give me your tired, your poor, Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free…" Lady Liberty has long been synonymous with the American tradition of welcoming immigrants.

But that's not actually what she was made for.

statue of liberty, liberty island, ellis island, immigration, slaveryLady Liberty welcomes people to New York.Photo credit: Canva

French politician Édouard de Laboulaye conceived of the idea for the Statue of Liberty to be built as a gift from France to the United States in 1865, the year the U.S. Civil War ended. That timing wasn't a coincidence. Laboulaye was a staunch abolitionist and president of the French Anti-Slavery Society, and his views were central to his commissioning of the statue. The statue was to be a gift celebrating the end of slavery in the U.S., as well as the centennial of the nation's founding and a symbol of good relations between France and America. Its ties to immigration wouldn't come until decades later.

Dr. Joy Degruy, sociologist, educator, and author of "Post-Traumatic Slave Syndrome: America's Legacy of Enduring Injury and Healing,"" shares a story about visiting the Statue of Liberty in her book and talks. She recounted the story to Brandi Harvey on the Vault Empowers podcast, informing people—many for the first time—that the Statue of Liberty's origin story began with anti-slavery activism, not immigration.

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As Dr. DeGruy explains, the original design had Lady Liberty holding broken chains in her left hand, not the tablet we see today. Sometime between the original drawings and the final design, those chains were moved to her feet—where they aren't visible unless you are flying through the air over them—and the tablet bearing the date July 4, 1776 in Roman numerals took their place.

Exactly how and why that change was made is not entirely clear in the historical record. But the fact that it even happened has not been widely shared, even by the people giving tours of the statue and sharing her history. DeGruy asked the tour guide about the chains on a visit and went on a hunt for the historical document showing the original design.

"So we go into the basement of the Statue of Liberty," she said. "We're in the basement of the Statue of Liberty. We find the document—encased in glass, behind figurines, facing a wall in a hallway. So here we have the truth, hidden in plain sight."

In a deep dive of the written historical records we have, researcher Rebecca M. Joseph, PhD. fact-checked various myths about the statue and her findings verified her anti-slavery origins as one of two parts of Laboulaye's vision of celebrating American liberty:

"The Statue of Liberty would never have been conceived or built if its principal French and American advocates had not been active abolitionists who understood slavery as the cause of the Civil War and its end as the realization of the promise of liberty for all as codified in the Declaration of Independence. But the Statue of Liberty was not intended entirely as a monument to the end of slavery. The statue’s form after June 1871 clearly embodies Laboulaye’s views on the two-part realization, in 1776 and 1864, of his ideal of liberty. The centennial of the American Revolution was significant to the French sponsors because the Civil War ended slavery and preserved the Union at a time when the France’s future was still uncertain. For the American republicans, it was a timely opportunity to erect a monument to their efforts and worldview. Laboulaye and his French colleagues also wished to send a political message back to France. Bartholdi cast the project in the broadest terms, hoping to encourage additional commissions."

\u00c9douard Ren\u00e9 de Laboulaye, statue of liberty, anti-slaveryFrench abolitionist Édouard René de Laboulaye, who commissioned the Statue of Liberty.upload.wikimedia.org

So how did we come to associate the Statue of Liberty with immigration? That's another interesting story, as Joseph explains:

"The conventional interpretation of the statue as a monument to American immigrants is a twentieth-century phenomenon. In its early years (1871-1886), that view was only rarely and vaguely expressed, while references to the Civil War and abolition of slavery occur repeatedly from its first introduction to the United States in 1871 up to and including the dedication celebrations in 1886. Immigrants did not actually see the Statue of Liberty in large numbers until after its unveiling. In the early twentieth century, the statue became a popular symbol for nativists and white supremacists. Official use of the statue's image to appeal to immigrants only began in earnest with public efforts to Americanize immigrant children and the government’s advertising campaign for World War I bonds. The 'immigrant' interpretation gained momentum in the 1930s as Americans prepared for war with Hitler and by the 1950s, it had become the predominant understanding of the statue's original purpose and meaning."

Since DeGruy raised the issue of the exclusion of the statue's anti-slavery origins, the Statue of Liberty national monument and museum has updated its educational program to include them. For some, it might seem like a mere factual correction, but for Black Americans who visit the Statue of Liberty, De Gruy says, it could potentially change their whole relationship to her symbolism.

"When Black people walk through, you hear white people say, 'Oh well, you know, my great great, and my great great…' but Black men, women, and children feel no connection to Lady Liberty. But how much prouder would they be if they knew that their ancestors that didn't come through Ellis Island, that came chained together in the belly of ships, that she was standing on those shackles? How much prouder would those young people be?"

Dr. DeGruy shared more about how Black Americans can find healing through hidden history. You can watch the full Vault Empowers interview with her here:

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A church put women and LGBTQ people first. Attendance surged.

This church is redefining the relationship between the Black church and queer people.

On a rainy day in Harlem, Rev. Kyndra Frazier, 36, works at her desk at in a quiet office. She’s visibly relaxed, self-aware, and youthful.

Yet her journey to becoming a leader of one of the largest, most historic African American churches in New York City and exuding such confidence wasn’t easy.        


Rev. Frazier was raised in North Carolina. Her family were leaders in the Church of God, so from a young age she found solace and enjoyment in her faith. But her teenage years were conflicted.  

Rev. Frazier is queer — a life the church was starkly against.  

She struggled to reconcile her sexuality and faith, fasting and praying, to no avail. Her parents found out about her queerness while listening in on a phone call between Frazier and her secret girlfriend.

“I recall being ashamed and embarrassed by what they’d heard, Rev. Frazier says. “They let me know that they couldn’t trust me anymore.”    

It took about eight years for her immediate family to accept her. It took even longer for Frazier to realize she could love who she chooses and be a faith-driven person.  

This duality drew Rev. Frazier to First Corinthian Baptist Church (FCBC) and its executive pastor, Rev. Michael A. Walrond, Jr.

Rev. Walrond enjoys preaching in jeans. Photo courtesy of FCBC.

Rev. Waldron, 46, leans into the common themes of Black church identity in his teachings: faith, community, and a dedication to justice.    

Unlike many Baptist clergy, though, Rev. Walrond has extended his message of tolerance and inclusion to a group typically excluded from ministry: the LGBTQ community.

“We as people of color have so many things that we battle with,” Rev. Frazier says. “For many of us, not only are we Black, ... we're also queer. Churches have to do the work that centers those folks and remind them that they’re valid and loved in such challenging times.”  

Rev. Waldron’s progressive nature breathes through every part of the church. Since joining as the executive pastor in 2004, he's surrounded himself with women leaders, a rarity in most churches. His preaching style is casual; he wears jeans — unusual against his suit-and-tie counterparts in Baptist churches around the nation. (He once told The New York Times, “I like being loose when I go out to preach.”)        

But his mannerisms and unique style of preaching connect congregants to the deeper acceptance of each churchgoer in the room. At FCBC, you’re at home, you’re welcome, and nothing — from clothing to sexual orientation — gets in the way of that.

All three of FCBC's Sunday morning services are typically filled to capacity. Photo courtesy of FCBC.

The inclusive efforts have been largely beneficial. FCBC's membership has grown from 350 to 10,000+ people.

Lines of people wrap around the street on Sunday mornings. During the service, gospel music echoes through the white ceilings lined with purple and gold. Churchgoers are each immersed in their own spiritual experiences inside this space that exudes warmth and solidarity.      

It was on a similar Sunday in 2016 that Rev. Frazier came out to the congregation, something nearly unheard of in most religious spaces. For the FCBC’s queer membership, it was especially incredible.

“To see her pronounce who she was openly gay in the pulpit was a huge thing for me to see,” said Olando Charles, a queer member of the church. “If she can make it, so can I.”          

Olando Charles is an active member of FCBC and the HOPE Center. Photo by the author.

Rev. Frazier's visibility in the pulpit likely couldn't have happened without Rev. Walrond constantly striving to bring people of all backgrounds to the church.

While Rev. Walrond's actions aren't surprising to many of his congregants, his outreach — and style of operating a church — are unusual in American church culture: Catholic churches have fired openly gay priests, several churches have removed queer musicians, priests have been fired for vocally supporting LGBTQ rights, and women overall still struggle to be viewed as viable leaders in churches all over the country.

The pastors of FCBC are needed now more than ever.

To reach the most marginalized in the FCBC and Harlem communities, Rev. Waldron opened the HOPE (Healing On Purpose and Evolving) Center to provide free mental health and therapy services.

The HOPE Center is just a few blocks away from FCBC. Photo by the author.

He tapped Rev. Frazier in 2016 to spearhead the organization. The two first met in 2012, and their professional admiration and relationship grew from there.

Before accepting the position, though, Rev. Frazier knew she needed to come out to Rev. Walrond. “He made it clear that it wasn’t an issue,” she says, explaining that Waldron embraced her and saw her sexuality as a gift instead of a problem. He believed she would be able to advocate for the Black, queer people of Harlem who felt unseen in their churches.    

Rev. Frazier continues, “For him to believe in me and trust me to have autonomy to create mental health space was huge and empowering.”  

The center works with those who have experienced or are experiencing religious trauma, loneliness, depression, anxiety, and/or chronic spiritual abuse.

“I remember going to the church and people telling me I didn’t belong,” Tanzania Stone, a queer FCBC member recalls. “It was heartbreaking. I loved God, but they made it out to seem like God didn’t love me because of who I love.”

Stone went through several periods of time when she wasn’t engaged with the church.

“To be a woman of color and to constantly know that you’re being oppressed in society, you want to find refuge in a church,” she explains. “And to go to this place that you’re being told is a refuge, but when they find out who you choose to love, you find out you’re an outcast or an abomination? That hurts.”

Tanzania Stone often participates in FCBC outreach. Photo by the author.

Stone eventually found her place in FCBC and HOPE. “To finally be in a place where I’m being told, no, you are a child of God, you’re worthy of God’s love, it was so liberating,” she told me.

Rev. Frazier says her own experiences with dissenting family members and frustrations in the church motivate her work.  

“My goal here is to create a space for people of color,” she explains. “The stigma has been so great for Black and Brown folks seeking mental health services; this space is truly designated for us.”  

And she says this is just the beginning. A ministry for LGBTQ people — just like there are for men, women, married couples in the faith — is an essential next step to affirming the group.  

Frazier hopes that FCBC will be an example for other churches across the nation because, historically, churches have failed to provide a safe space for queer communities.

Rev. Frazier knows role likely couldn’t have happened 60 years ago (much less 10), given the fraught history of queer people in Black history.

Bayard Rustin — one of the most brilliant and strategic minds of the civil rights movement — was virtually erased from history books about the era because he was gay. Though his influence was often kept behind closed doors, it’s documented that Rustin was one of Martin Luther King, Jr.’s most trusted confidants.

Even outside of the church, the work of queer Black leaders and thinkers such as Audre Lorde and James Baldwin were somewhat ignored and not brought to light in mainstream history until recent years due to pervasive, deep-rooted homophobia.                      

Churches like FCBC are working to change that.

With roughly 79% of Black Americans identifying as Christians — the largest group of Christians in the country — it’s a crucial time for religious organizations in Black communities to support their most vulnerable.      

“We take the teachings of Jesus seriously,” said Rev. Frazier. “Black churches have historically been involved in politically challenging times, and we must continue to do so. We can do that by clothing and feeding others and giving them the support they need to move forward.”

Charles and Rev. Frazier often work together at the church. Photo by the author.

As FCBC continues to grow and find ways to not only be more inclusive, but also more affirming, it’s clear that the pastors aren’t afraid to try ways to include people who’ve previously been left out of communities of faith.      

Rev. Frazier puts it this way: “Understand that working towards inclusion is a matter of who’s growing, not who’s right and who’s wrong. That’s how you move forward.”  

Rev. Frazier is currently fundraising for a documentary called A Love Supreme: Black, Queer and Christian in The South.” You can watch the trailer here and learn how to support the project here.

Black women are everything.

I say it without reservation or hesitation. I say it with personal experience and anecdotal knowledge. We. Are. Everything.

Need someone to replace your contaminated water pipes? We can do that. Need someone to tell off Paul Ryan? We can do that. Need someone to help you master a skateboard trick? We can do that too. Try to keep up.


Our talent, know-how, grace, and grit is unparalleled. There's only one problem: No one seems to care.

At least not visibly — not when it matters. In the spirit of intersectionality, black women cape for black men, we support women, other POC, people with disabilities, and our LGBTQ family. But who is championing, listening to, trusting, and promoting us? Fine, we can do that too.

[rebelmouse-image 19532556 dam="1" original_size="750x500" caption="Dropping knowledge about the awesomeness of black women. Photo by WOCinTech Chat/Flickr." expand=1]Dropping knowledge about the awesomeness of black women. Photo by WOCinTech Chat/Flickr.

This is the beginning of a weekly column dedicated to signal-boosting the black women who make the world spin.

From tastemakers and politicians, to women making a name for themselves in their communities, these are people whose stories merit attention and enthusiasm.

Let's go ahead and give them their roses. Here are the women I'm here for this week — support them, believe them, and celebrate them.

"We've Got Your Back": Janet Jackson and Lola Olufemi

Photo by Frank Micelotta/Getty Images.

  • Across the pond, Cambridge student Lola Olufemi joined together with other students to write an open letter about improving the university's English department. It included suggestions for creating a more inclusive canon and improving representation among the authors and viewpoints. (You can read the entire thing here.)  Soon after, Olufemi's simple, clear proposal was mischaracterized and demonized on the front page of The Daily Telegraph, who suggested she was trying to drop white authors, including Shakespeare, altogether. The paper has since printed a tiny apology, but the damage is done. We know the truth, sis.

"We Believe You": Myeshia Johnson and Kitti Jones

Photo by Joe Raedle/Getty Images.

"Go off, sis": Ava DuVernay

Ava DuVernay recently accepted Smithsonian magazine's American Ingenuity Award. The award honors great talents and contributions in eight categories: technology, performing arts, visual arts, life sciences, physical sciences, history, social progress, and youth. DuVernay picked up the honor for visual arts for her work in TV and film. And if that's not enough, check out this clip from "Finding Your Roots" when she discovers her genetic makeup is majority African. Her smile is like standing in a sunbeam.

Final thoughts: Robin Thede

Robin Thede, host of "The Rundown with Robin Thede" will deliver this week's final thoughts:

I'll be here next week with more women to celebrate, support, and signal boost. If you know a black woman that I should feature, send me some links.

After playing a supporting role in "Captain America: Civil War," Black Panther is finally getting his own standalone film — and it looks absolutely awesome.

The majority black cast is unlike anything seen in the sprawling Marvel Cinematic Universe and is a completely welcome change of pace.

Some people, however, pointed to the film's casting as proof of hypocrisy from people who advocate for diversity in Hollywood. One Twitter user reached out out to John Boyega. It ... didn't go well.

"Hey @JohnBoyega, why aren't [you] complaining about the lack of diversity of Black Panther's cast? 9/10 actors are Africans/Afro-Americans," they wrote.


Boyega, who is not in this film, but has been outspoken about diversity in Hollywood, replied, "Because it's about time Biiiihhhhh."

It's a fundamental (and possibly willful) misunderstanding of efforts to increase diversity on- and off-screen to suggest that the goal is for every movie to have a perfectly racially balanced cast.

The reality is that there aren't a lot of big budget movies out there that feature majority black casts.

The University of Southern California's Annenberg School for Communication and Journalism's annual diversity report highlights just how disproportionately white and male Hollywood's top films still are.

A look at the top 100 films of 2016 found that 70.8% of all speaking roles were played by white actors, 13.6% black, 5.7% Asian, and 3.1% Hispanic. A quarter of the top 100 films didn't have a single black character in a speaking role, 44 with no Asian roles, and 54 without any Hispanic characters.

[rebelmouse-image 19532170 dam="1" original_size="700x420" caption="Data from the USC Annenberg diversity survey and the U.S. Census Bureau." expand=1]Data from the USC Annenberg diversity survey and the U.S. Census Bureau.

Fear not, white fans of the Marvel cinematic universe!

You've still got the likes of Captain America, Iron Man, Thor, Hulk, Black Widow, Spider-Man, Doctor Strange, Star-Lord, Daredevil, Jessica Jones, and Iron Fist representing you. You'll be OK. I promise.

To date, Luke Cage has been the only black character to get his own standalone streaming show, and Black Panther will be the first to get his own film. Because, like Boyega said, "It's about time."

Black Panther director Ryan Coogler stands alongside actors Danai Gurira, Chadwick Boseman, Lupita Nyong'o, and Michael B. Jordan at San Diego Comic-Con in 2016. Photo by Alberto E. Rodriguez/Getty Images for Disney.