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Education

Voice recordings of people who were enslaved offer incredible first-person accounts of U.S. history

"The results of these digitally enhanced recordings are arresting, almost unbelievable. The idea of hearing the voices of actual slaves from the plantations of the Old South is as powerful—as startling, really—as if you could hear Abraham Lincoln or Robert E. Lee speak." - Ted Koppel

Library of Congress

Some history is not as old as we think.

When we think about the era of American slavery, many of us tend to think of it as the far distant past. While slavery doesn't exist as a formal institution today, modern slavery endures at a systemic level worldwide, and there are people living who knew formerly enslaved Black Americans first-hand. In the wide arc of history, the legal enslavement of Black people on U.S. soil is a recent occurrence—so recent, in fact, that we have voice recordings of interviews with people who lived it.

Many of us have read written accounts of enslavement, from Frederick Douglass's autobiography to some of the 2,300 first-person accounts housed in the Library of Congress. But how many of us have heard the actual voices of people who were enslaved telling their own stories?

ABC News' Nightline with Ted Koppel aired a segment in 1999 in which we can hear the first-person accounts of people who had been enslaved taken from interviews conducted in the 1930s and 40s (also housed in the Library of Congress). They include the voice of a man named Fountain Hughes, who was born into slavery in 1848 and whose grandfather had "belonged to" Thomas Jefferson.

As Koppel says in the segment, "The results of these digitally enhanced recordings are arresting, almost unbelievable. The idea of hearing the voices of actual slaves from the plantations of the Old South is as powerful—as startling, really—as if you could hear Abraham Lincoln or Robert E. Lee speak."

Indeed, hearing formerly enslaved people share their experiences of being bought and sold like cattle, sleeping on bare pallets, and witnessing whippings for insubordination is a heartbreaking reminder of how close we are to this ugly chapter of our history. The segment is well worth the watch:

This article originally appeared five years ago.

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history

Education

A teen student delivered a masterclass on the true history of the Confederate flag

Christopher Justice broke it down into incredible details most of us probably weren't even aware of.

SM East/YouTube

Christopher Justice schools his classmates.

Six years ago, a high school student named Christopher Justice eloquently explained the multiple problems with flying the Confederate flag. A video clip of Justice's truth bomb has made the viral rounds a few times since then, and here it is once again getting the attention it deserves.

Justice doesn't just explain why the flag is seen as a symbol of racism. He also explains the history of when the flag originated and why flying a Confederate flag makes no sense for people who claim to be loyal Americans.

This high school student, Christopher Justice, does a great job at explaining the Confederate flag and its problems.pic.twitter.com/CcOXHCB8GQ
— \ud835\udc0b\ud835\udc1a\ud835\udc27\ud835\udc1c\ud835\udc1e \ud83c\udff3\ufe0f\u200d\ud83c\udf08 (@\ud835\udc0b\ud835\udc1a\ud835\udc27\ud835\udc1c\ud835\udc1e \ud83c\udff3\ufe0f\u200d\ud83c\udf08) 1628088843

But that clip, as great as it is, is a small part of the whole story. Knowing how the discussion came about and seeing the full debate in context is even more impressive.

In 2015, a student at Shawnee Mission East High School outside of Kansas City came up with the idea to have student journalists document students engaging in open discussions about various topics. In support of this idea, history teacher David Muhammad helped arrange a debate about the use of the Confederate flag in American society in his classroom.

According to the Shawnee Mission Post, Muhammad had prepared a basic outline and some basic guiding questions for the discussion, but mainly let the students debate freely. The result was one of the most interesting debates about the Confederate flag you'll ever see—one that both reflects the perspectives in American society at large and serves as an example of how to hold a respectful conversation on a controversial topic.

The full discussion is definitely worth a watch. Justice had quite a few Confederacy defenders to contend with, and he skillfully responded to each point with facts and logic. Other students also chimed in, and the discussion is wildly familiar to anyone who has engaged in debate on this topic. For his part, Mr. Muhammad did an excellent job of guiding the students through the debate.

"I had Chris in class, so I knew he was super intelligent and that he read a lot," Muhammad told the Shawnee Mission Post in 2018. "But that really came out of left-field. He was never out there very much socially, so I didn't expect for him to want to speak in front of a crowd like that."

(In case you're wondering, according to his LinkedIn, Christopher Justice graduated from Wichita State University in 2023 with a BS in Political Science and Government. David Muhammad is now Dean of Students at the Barstow School as well as Co-Director of Inclusion, Diversity, and Equity.)

Thanks, SM East, for documenting and sharing such a great discussion.

This article originally appeared three years ago.

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culture

History

A forgotten feature of the Statue of Liberty is an apt symbol for how we treat our history

There's a broken shackle and chains at her feet for a reason.

Photo by Jeff Burak on Unsplash

Most Americans associate Lady Liberty with welcoming immigrants, but that's not what she was meant to represent.

If Americans were asked to describe the Statue of Liberty without looking at it, most of us could probably describe her long robe, the crown on her head, a lighted torch in her right hand and a tablet cradled in her left. Some might remember it's inscribed with the date of the American Declaration of Independence, July 4, 1776.

But there's a significant detail most of us would miss. It's a feature that points to why Lady Liberty was created and gifted to us in the first place. At her feet, where her robe drapes the ground, lay a broken shackle and chains—a symbol of the abolishment of slavery.

Most people see the Statue of Liberty as a symbol of our welcoming immigrants and mistakenly assume that's what she was meant to represent. Indeed, the opening words of Emma Lazarus's poem engraved on a plaque at the Statue of Liberty—"Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free"—have long evoked images of immigrants arriving on our shores, seeking a better life in The American Dream.

But that plaque wasn't added to the statue until 1903, nearly two decades after the statue was unveiled. The original inspiration for the monument was emancipation, not immigration.

“The Statue of Liberty we now associate with immigration was a gift from France to commemorate the emancipation of American slaves. Before you lift your eyes to her torch of enlightenment, first pass them over the broken shackle and chains at her feet.”

\u201cThe Statue of Liberty we now associate with immigration was a gift from France to commemorate the emancipation of American slaves. Before you lift your eyes to her torch of enlightenment, first pass them over the broken shackle and chains at her feet.\u201d
— craigball (@craigball) 1593884368

According to a Washington Post interview with historian Edward Berenson, the concept of Lady Liberty originated when French anti-slavery activist—and huge fan of the United States' Constitution—Édouard de Laboulaye organized a meeting of other French abolitionists in Versailles in June 1865, just a few months after the American Civil War ended. "They talked about the idea of creating some kind of commemorative gift that would recognize the importance of the liberation of the slaves," Berenson said.

Laboulaye enlisted a sculptor, Frédéric-Auguste Bartholdi, to come up with ideas. One of the first models, circa 1870, had Lady Liberty holding the broken shackles and chains in her left hand. In the final iteration, her left hand wrapped around a tablet instead and the anti-slavery symbolism of the shackle and chain was moved to her feet.

Writer Robin Wright pondered in The New Yorker what Laboulaye would think of our country today. The America that is embroiled in yet another civil rights movement because we still can't seem to get the whole "liberty and justice for all" thing down pat. The America that spent the century after slavery enacting laws and policies specifically designed to keep Black Americans down, followed by decades of continued social, economic and political oppression. The America that sometimes does the right thing, but only after tireless activism manages to break through a ton of resistance to changing the racism-infused status quo.

The U.S. has juggled dichotomies and hypocrisies in our national identity from the very beginning. The same founding father who declared "that all men are created equal" enslaved more than 600 human beings in his lifetime. The same people who celebrated religious freedom forced their Christian faith on Native peoples. Our most celebrated history of "liberty" and "freedom" is inseparable from our country's violent subjugation of entire races and ethnicities, and yet we compartmentalize rather than acknowledge that two things can be equally true at the same time.

Every nation on earth has problematic history, but what makes the U.S. different is that our problematic history is also our proudest history. Our nation was founded during the heyday of the transatlantic slave trade on land that was already occupied. The profound and world-changing document on which our government was built is the same document that was used to legally protect and excuse the enslavement of Black people. The house in which the President of the United States sits today was built partially by enslaved people. The deadliest war we've ever fought was over the "right" to enslave Black people.

The truth is that blatant, violent racism was institutionalized from the very beginning of this country. For most of us, that truth has always been treated as a footnote rather than a feature in our history educations. Until we really reckon with the full truth of our history—which it seems like we are finally starting to do—we won't ever get to see the full measure of what our country could be.

In some ways, the evolution of the design of the Statue of Liberty—the moving of the broken shackle and chain from her hands to being half hidden beneath her robe, as well as the movement of our perception of her symbolism from abolition to immigration—is representative of how we've chosen to portray ourselves as a nation. We want people to think: Hey, look at our Declaration of Independence! See how we welcome immigrants! We're so great! (Oh, by the way, hereditary, race-based chattel slavery was a thing for longer than emancipation has been on our soil. And then there was the 100 years of Jim Crow. Not to mention how we've broken every promise made to Native Americans. And honestly, we haven't even been that nice to immigrants either). But look, independence and a nod to immigration! We're so great!

The thing is that we can be so great. The foundation of true liberty and justice for all, even with all its cracks, is still there. The vision in our founding documents was truly revolutionary. We just have to decide to actually build the country we claim to have built—one that truly lives up to the values and ideals it professes for all people.

This article first appeared on 07.07.20.

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history

Race & Ethnicity

Elizabeth Eckford made history at age 15. Here's the full story behind the iconic photo.

She faced the angry white mob—and the Arkansas National Guard—alone on her first day of high school in 1957. But that was only the beginning.

@ayealiah/Twitter

15-year-old Elizabeth Eckford was one of the Little Rock Nine who attended the first integrated high school in Arkansas.

On September 4, 1957, nine students arrived at Central High School in Little Rock, Arkansas for their first day of school. They were bright students, chosen for their academic excellence to attend the most prestigious school in the state. They were there to learn—and to make history as the first Black students to attend the previously all-white school.

They wouldn't enter the school that day, nor for weeks after. Their entrance was barred not only by an angry white mob but by the Arkansas National Guard who were called in by the governor to prevent the students from integrating the school.

Eight of the nine arrived together that first day in a carpool arranged by the local NAACP chapter. One student, 15-year-old Elizabeth Eckford, didn't have a telephone at home and was unable to be reached to learn about the carpool plan. She took the city bus, which dropped her off within two blocks of the school. As she approached, she faced the racist crowd alone.

One photo encapsulated much—but not all—of the moment. We see Eckford being followed by a group of angry white segregationists, but we can't see that they were yelling, "Lynch her! Lynch her!" We can see the Arkansas National Guard, but we can't see that President Eisenhower would have to call in federal troops weeks later to finally get the students into the building. We see Elizabeth Eckford walking with her head high, but we can't see the courage and resolve it took her not to walk through a crowd of people threatening to kill her just for wanting to go to school.

We see a snapshot of a horrific moment in American history, but we can't see what happened after.

On this third day of black history month let\u2019s remember the incredibly brave students known as the \u201cLittle Rock Nine.\u201d They were the first black students to attend Central High School in Little Rock, Arkansas.pic.twitter.com/IQeXhrCVWZ
— Aliah Rowe \u2764\ufe0f (@Aliah Rowe \u2764\ufe0f) 1643908371

After being barred entrance to the school, Eckford tried to return home, but she was unable to go back to the bus stop where she'd been dropped off due to the 250 or so angry white people behind her. She decided to try to get to the next bus stop a block ahead of her.

Buddy Lonesome of the St. Louis Argus described what he had witnessed at the scene: "The mob of twisted whites, galvanized into vengeful action by the inaction of the heroic state militia, was not willing that the young school girl should get off so easily. Elizabeth Eckford had walked into the wolf's lair, and now that they felt she was fair game, the drooling wolves took off after their prey. The hate mongers, who look exactly like other, normal white men and women, took off down the street after the girl."

She would get home eventually. At first, she sat on the edge of the bus stop bench as someone yelled "Drag her over to this tree!" A small group of journalists formed a makeshift barrier between her and the crowd. New York Times reporter Benjamin Fine sat down next to her, put his arm around her and said, "Don't let them see you cry." Later, after being asked if he'd overstepped his professional bounds, Fine replied, "A reporter has to be a human being."

A white woman, Grace Lorch, escorted Eckford onto the bus, but not before she told the crowd that they'd all be ashamed of themselves someday. Eckford was relieved when Lorch got off the bus; her help, though undoubtedly well-intentioned, had only inflamed the hatred of the crowd. (Lorch and her husband would eventually move their family to Canada after facing harassment, job losses, and accusations of being communists for their civil rights activism.)

After exiting the bus, Eckford immediately went to find her mother. She fell into her arms and the two cried together, neither saying a word.

What about the student yelling at Eckford in the photo? Her name was Hazel Bryan—later becoming Hazel Massery. She was the daughter of parents who were unabashed about their racism.

Massery would have a change of heart in the years that followed. She became a follower of the civil rights movement and began to understand how wrong she had been. In 1962 or 1963, she called Eckford to apologize. But she didn't stop there. She left her intolerant church, volunteered with projects to serve underprivileged Black students and single Black mothers, read the works of Cornel West and Shelby Steele and argued about racial issues with her mother.

Eventually, Massery and Eckford realized they had a lot in common as individuals and became friends. They even appeared together on The Oprah Winfrey Show and talked about reconciliation. But the friendship did not last. The rest of the Little Rock Nine had never been fans of the friendship, nor of Massery's appearance at public events about their history. Massery seems to have felt frustrated that Eckford wouldn't absolve her completely of her past racist behavior, and she ultimately cut off ties with her.

Ten years ago, David Margolick, who had interviewed both women multiple times over the years, asked Eckford and Massery to pose together for one last photo. Eckford agreed, but Massery refused.

Both Eckford and Massery are still alive. Eckford celebrated her 80th birthday in October with a small celebration in front of Central High School, with student members of the Civil Rights Memory Project and faculty there to honor her. This is not history from some far distant era. People are alive who saw it happen with their own eyes.

And this isn't even the full scope of the story. The Little Rock Nine spent the school year being brutally harassed even after they were finally allowed into the building. And both Eckford and Massery's stories include many more details, which David Margolick has covered in Vanity Fair and Slate. His storytelling illustrates how the story behind the iconic photo is worse (at the time) and more complex (in the long run) than the simplistic narratives we often hear about the civil rights era and are definitely worth a read.

How does Eckford feel about the photo? She told the Arkansas Democrat-Gazette that she sometimes feels nothing when she sees it and sometimes it bowls her over. But she's never felt good about the photo, nor does she see herself in it the way others do.

"They talk about it as strength," she said, "But I've never considered myself a strong person."

Fair enough. No one should ever have to be strong like that in the first place, especially at 15. May we all remember and learn from this history, and keep working toward a future where racism is truly and fully overcome.

This article originally appeared on 2.5.22

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history

Education

The enslaved man who stole a Confederate ship, sailed to freedom and became a U.S. Congressman

In a unanimous bipartisan move, South Carolina will honor Robert Smalls with the state's first statue of a Black American.

Library of Congress (Public Domain)

Robert Smalls led an extraordinary life.

South Carolina's statehouse boasts some two dozen statues honoring individuals from statesmen to "heroes" of the Confederacy, but there's a glaring omission from the lineup. Up until now, the former Confederate state—where the Civil War began at Fort Sumter and where approximately 1 in 4 residents is Black—has never erected an individual monument of a Black American.

In a unanimous bipartisan decision led by Republican Rep. Brandon Cox, Robert Smalls will become the first to be honored in this way, and his heroic life certainly earned him the accolade. As Cox told the Associated Press, "We’ve got a lot of history, good and bad. This is our good history."

Smalls was born into slavery in Beaufort, South Carolina, in 1839. He and his mother lived together in a small cabin behind their enslaver's mansion until Smalls was sent to Charleston at age 12 to be hired out. When the Civil War broke out in 1861, he was in his early 20s and soon found himself an enslaved crewmember of a ship that was contracted out to the Confederate Army. There he was, an enslaved man sailing a steamboat for an army that was fighting to keep him enslaved.

Robert Smalls dressed in a suit Robert Smalls, S.C. M.C. Born in Beaufort, SC, April 1839Library of Congress

Late one night, when the white crewmembers had all gone ashore, Smalls and the other enslaved crewmembers stole the ship with Smalls as pilot. They sailed to a wharf where they picked up their family members, then they made their way north. The sixteen enslaved people aboard managed to sail right on past Fort Sumter and Fort Moultrie, where Confederate forces were stationed, thanks to Smalls donning a captain's hat and knowing the proper signals to give as they passed. He steered the ship to the naval blockade and turned the ship over to the U.S. Navy.

The enslaved crew and their families were now free Americans.

But Smalls didn't stop there. He provided valuable intelligence to the Union since he knew the Confederate waters well and served for the remainder of the war. He became the first Black person to serve as a pilot for the U.S. Navy and fought 17 Civil War battles as the captain of the very ship he has stolen.

His status as war hero was solidified. But he didn't stop there, either.

large white plantation home Robert Smalls' house in Beaufort, South CarolinaPublic Domain

He returned to Beaufort in 1864 and used the reward money he's received from turning over the Confederate ship to buy the home of his former enslaver at a tax auction. In just three years, Smalls had gone from enslaved man to war hero and owner of his former owner's property.

And he became well known for it. He started his own business and advocated for public education. The people of Beaufort saw him as a leader and he began to rise politically. He served as a delegate to the State Constitutional Convention in 1868, then as a state representative, then state senator, then as a delegate to the Republican National Convention, and finally as a representative in the U.S. Congress.

He ended up serving five terms in the House of Representatives during the Reconstruction Era, when Black Americans voted in large numbers for the first time and were elected to government positions. According to the National Parks Service, Beaufort was viewed as a symbol of successful Reconstruction policies, with formerly enslaved people engaging in education, politics, and land ownership in the former Confederate county.

- YouTubeyoutu.be

However, the glory of that era didn't last as white Southerners regained political power. By the time Smalls died in 1915, segregation laws were widespread and the freedom that had been so hard won for Black Americans in the South had been curtailed. Even Smalls' incredible life story was largely forgotten by the "Lost Cause" rewriting of Civil War history.

However, the 21st century has seen historians setting the record straight and uplifting heroes like Robert Smalls who have not gotten the national recognition they deserve. After years of lobbying by the community of Beaufort to have Smalls and the reality of the Reconstruction Era recognized, January 2017, President Barack Obama issued an executive order establishing Reconstruction Era National Monument (now known as Reconstruction Era National Historical Park) in Beaufort County in January 2017.

And now South Carolina will erect a statue in Smalls' honor on the grounds of the statehouse. It's worth noting that the idea has been floated for years with bipartisan and biracial support, but had always faced some quiet opposition. Now it looks like everyone's on board, so it's just a matter of working out the exact design and location for the statue.

It's been a long time coming, but South Carolina is finally highlighting history we can all be proud of—a historic step in the right direction.

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history

Democracy

Laurence Fishburne reads epic letter from former slave to the 'master' who wanted him back

It's a powerful—and surprisingly funny—takedown of the colonel who'd enslaved him.

Photo credit: Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff (left), Public Domain (right)

Actor Laurence Fishburne and formerly enslaved man Jordan Anderson

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:

- YouTubewww.youtube.com

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.

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history

Race & Ethnicity

Dear white friends—I need you to love my sons as they grow into Black men

"I love you for loving my boys, I do. But I need you to love them enough to demand change so parents that look like me aren't afraid our children aren't going to make it home."

Jacalyn Wetzel

Hey friend,

Do you remember me? It's been a while, I know. I sat behind you in civics in junior high.

Do you remember me? You were my base on the cheer squad, and once you caught my head just before it hit the ground after a long day of stunting.

You don't remember? Our boys played together on the soccer team in 4th grade.

We drank wine out of solo cups in college together.

You totally remember. My vernacular is so similar to your own that it's a running joke that I'm not actually Black, but I am.

And so are my boys.

Friend, I don't get deep enough with you and it's not your fault. I just see the quick twist in your face that quickly screams "I'm uncomfortable" when I broach the subject of race.

Discomfort I can deal with most days, but some days it's more than discomfort. Some days it's disbelief, and that hurts more, so I don't tell you.

I don't tell you the fear I feel on a daily basis as my boys continue to grow. I don't tell you that all on their own they've developed a healthy fear of the police, and even the school resource officer.

I don't tell you that my oldest son has said "the SRO treats the Black kids meaner. It gives me anxiety."

I don't tell you that even though we are careful not to watch these awful videos of unarmed people getting shot, your children are showing them at school, and my children have noticed the theme.

I would never tell you that as they shoot up to be as tall as I am, soon to tower over me, that my mama heart breaks for reasons you'll never fully grasp.

I'd never tell you that at the ripe age of 14, my son "fits the description," and his brother is not far behind.

I would never tell you that, because you can't imagine that being truth. You know my boys. You know their hearts. You know they're the sweetest, most respectful and helpful children you've met. The thought of anyone seeing them as a threat just does not cross your mind.

I love you for loving my boys, I do. But I need you to love them enough to demand change so parents that look like me aren't afraid our children aren't going to make it home.

I need you to love them enough to not just see them as your sons, but to see all boys that look like them as your potential sons.

I need you to love them like you love your own sons, because this world doesn't. Love them because my mama heart cannot handle another man being shot that looks like my brothers, cousins, uncles, and sons.

Love them because my son has said the words "I can't breathe" when talking about how seeing a police car makes him feel.

Love them because my big brother likes to jog.

Love them because my younger brother has the best contagious laugh you've ever heard.

Love them because my baby brother has the sweetest soul, but it takes him a while to say things. He gets excited and his stutter gets in the way.

Love them because the movie American Son is so many Black mothers' realities.

Love them so it does not become my reality.

Love them and demand America do the same.

You know me. I'm your friend.

Jacalyn is a Licensed Clinical Social Worker, writer and a mother of 4. She runs the blog Stop Yelling Please and has been featured in publications such as HuffPost, Today Parenting Team, Filter Free Parents, Her View From Home and more. She's an advocate for justice and believes everyone has the power to be an agent of change

This post was originally published on Jacalyn Wetzel's blog, Stop Yelling Please. You can read it here. It first appeared on Upworthy on 5.28.20

From Your Site Articles

racism

black history

Voice recordings of people who were enslaved offer incredible first-person accounts of U.S. history

"The results of these digitally enhanced recordings are arresting, almost unbelievable. The idea of hearing the voices of actual slaves from the plantations of the Old South is as powerful—as startling, really—as if you could hear Abraham Lincoln or Robert E. Lee speak." - Ted Koppel

A teen student delivered a masterclass on the true history of the Confederate flag

Christopher Justice broke it down into incredible details most of us probably weren't even aware of.

A forgotten feature of the Statue of Liberty is an apt symbol for how we treat our history

There's a broken shackle and chains at her feet for a reason.

“The Statue of Liberty we now associate with immigration was a gift from France to commemorate the emancipation of American slaves. Before you lift your eyes to her torch of enlightenment, first pass them over the broken shackle and chains at her feet.”

Elizabeth Eckford made history at age 15. Here's the full story behind the iconic photo.

She faced the angry white mob—and the Arkansas National Guard—alone on her first day of high school in 1957. But that was only the beginning.

The enslaved man who stole a Confederate ship, sailed to freedom and became a U.S. Congressman

In a unanimous bipartisan move, South Carolina will honor Robert Smalls with the state's first statue of a Black American.

Laurence Fishburne reads epic letter from former slave to the 'master' who wanted him back

It's a powerful—and surprisingly funny—takedown of the colonel who'd enslaved him.

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

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

Dear white friends—I need you to love my sons as they grow into Black men

"I love you for loving my boys, I do. But I need you to love them enough to demand change so parents that look like me aren't afraid our children aren't going to make it home."

Dad camping with his kids shared the handwritten note left on his car from a fellow camper

They've been in love since the fifth grade. What better place to propose than where it all began?

Meet the people using their project management skills to better the world

Woman who lives on a cruise ship shares the hardest part about her perfect life

A dad posted his 5-year-old's paintings online and couldn't believe the huge response

I convinced my Gen Z kids to watch 'Dead Poets Society' and their angry reactions surprised me