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Fifty Years
Ago
By
Chuck Siler
May 26th is a special
day in my life. Fifty years
ago, I was a part of the
graduating class at McKinley
High in Baton Rouge. We broke
the peace. This was back in the
good old days for some and the
beginning of the end of
segregation in that city. In
March of that year, Students from
Southern University had begun
a sit in and a mass march had
upset the applecart and joined
the protests that were being
mounted around the South.
When the news broke our campus
was put on “lock down.” There
was a disturbance in the force
of racism.
Some of us at McKinley and a few
from other schools were anxious
to join the growing movement and
do something. We had to
determine what. That took time
because we were close to
finishing and there were subtle
threats that indicated we could
suddenly find us expelled.
Things turned serious.
A few of our teachers explained
the motivation behind the
sit-ins and the protest march
led by Southern students. The
names Marvin Robinson, Donald
Moss, and Major Johns come to
mind. Students from the
Southern University Laboratory
School, Capitol Avenue and Scotlandville were talking but
it took time before there was
any action.
Betty Jones, Enola Price, Moses
Edwards and Theodis Washington
were the names of my classmates
that come to mind at this
writing. We discussed ideas and
made plans for direct action
that could be taken.
We were flying under the radar
so our tests went unnoticed at
first. Ultimately, our target
became the State Library
system.
The City-Parish system was
closed to us and we tried to
secure cards and admission, we
were refused. We were
referred to Carver Branch
Library and reminded that our
schools had libraries. Of
course, much of what we needed
wasn’t present at that time
because separate wasn’t equal.
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The books supplied to Carver and
McKinley’s school library were
inadequate to our educational
needs. That didn’t matter
to the white administrators who
still held to the belief that we
didn’t need an education to be
subordinate to them.
Mrs.
Bennett (Carver) and Ms. Ampey
(McKinley) tried to obtain those
books that would benefit us and
did a better job than most.
I
assisted in the school library
and knew that Ms. Ampey
sometimes went into her own
pocket to find books that we
needed. Mrs. Bennett at Carver
was familiar with me because
during the summer when it was
hot, the library was the coolest
place, literally, to read. We,
then, targeted the State Library
and, again, were refused. This
gave us the evidence that we
needed to justify further
action.
May came and our efforts went
unnoticed because they were
isolated incidents and we didn’t
protest loudly. We continued
planning and considered a plan
that would work and protect us
from the possibility of
expulsion, deciding to wait
until we had finished our final
examinations and were cleared
for graduation. There were
enough activities going on to
help cover our plans during that
period as we prepared for the
big day.
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Once examinations were finished,
class ranks were determined and
those who would be getting
scholarship assistance to attend
college had been established.
Most of those who participated
were among the top students in
our class. We didn’t want the
underclassmen to risk their
futures because, technically, we
were finished with our high
school studies. Then things hit
the fan.
At first, the pickets were cited
on the radio news. There were
the usual growls and threats
from our “leaders” but we
returned with our signs. I
recall that some of the guys in
Mr. Poydras’ art class were
among those who made the signs
that we carried and slipped out
of school to use when we marched
in front of the downtown
library. My family realized
when I was involved when I
appeared in the line carrying a
picket sign.
Naturally intimidation was
attempted and we were threatened
with expulsion and denial of our
right to graduation. I will
never forget a comment that flew
from (I think it was Moses) when
we were told that we wouldn’t be
allowed to march. “Who are
you going to give our
scholarships to?”
The look on Mr. Thomas’ (our
principal's) face was worth all of
the effort that had been made.
We left and someone else
commented, “I think Julius
was upset.” We had a good
laugh and went on planning.
Then threats were made against
others who were not involved and
we did have commitment to
family and classmates. It only
delayed the inevitable though we
backed off. The NAACP Youth
council was formed and many of
us became a part of that
organization because we were
going to be some of those that
caused some to declare that “Negroes
Ain’t Acting like Colored
People”
There were other quiet efforts,
such as our attempts to enter
Louisiana State University,
which were rejected because we
didn’t mark the box labeled
“race” and/or the information
that indicated the schools that
we had attended. The real
reason being—we were not
white. Our test scores show
that we were damn well qualified
but not to attend the states’
“flagship” university.
Eddie Brown was one of my heroes
because he was involved in the
leadership of the Southern
University and an inspiration to
many of us who had grown tired
of the treatment. My friend
Mayo Brew in Winnfield had
Donald Moss as inspiration and
wound up with a gun to his head
for attempting to integrate the
library in his hometown.
It was a time when I gained
respect for those teachers who
supported us quietly and
encouraged us to keep on
“keeping on.”
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I lost respect for many of those
who declared their Christianity
but were too frightened to be
radical like their “lord and
savior” who was, according to
their bible, crucified because
of his efforts. It was a
time when I began to question my
faith and began a search for
truth that led me to my current
philosophical place.
In 2003, while at the State
Museum, Sailor Jackson and I
pulled together a program on the
50th Anniversary of
the Baton Rouge Bus Boycott. I
was invited to be a speaker at
LSU as part of a panel
discussing that event. I talked
about other heroes—Willis V.
Reed being one of mine because
of his unflagging resistance to,
and understanding of the depth
of racism in our society. I
also noted that LSU did me a
favor by refusing me because,
had they not, I would never had
received the nurturing that was
available at Southern—Felton Grandison notwithstanding.
It
was there that I met Adolph
Reed, Sr., Huel Perkins, Henry
Cobb, Roscoe Leonard, Ray
Lockett, Ruby Henton and others
who didn’t quit encouraging me
to be the best despite what we
faced away from the school
environment.
I can recall the “deep”
discussion that Hubert Brown and
I had hitchhiking home from
campus at a time when even that
simple act was dangerous if you
were black. Hubert became “H
Rap” and was railroaded into the
federal penitentiary system as
Imam Jamil Addullah. I, for
one, found enough holes in the
lies told about him to never
believe him guilty.
I’m older and still cynical.
Many of those on my cartoon list
respond and let me know when I’m
“on target.” I am still an
enemy of the systemic racism
that is pervasive and ongoing
despite those who claim that we
are in a “post racial society.”
I’m not one who believes that
lie.
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When I was a part of the initial
development of the State Civil
Rights Museum, I discovered that
I was “too radical” for those
who were “politically white”
because I am, politically, “black,” I am one
who believes that more than ever
we need our Historically Black
Colleges and Universities to
help insure and validate our
identities. I recall that my
son, while an undergraduate at
Xavier, enjoyed being Daniel—
NOT a “minority” or “member of a
group” but an individual. In
graduate school he won’t be one
of those who buys the lie
because we have tried to make
sure that he know who he IS.
After fifty years, WHO I AM is
still a part of the discovery
process that is life.
I can’t remember all of the
names of those who fought and,
hopefully, are still doing so in
their own way. I hope that this
spurs members of my class and
generation to write something
down for their children and
grandchildren to have as a part
of the personal arsenals that
they will need to continue the
fight against the pervasive
ignorance that works against our
efforts to propel this nation
and world forward.
May 26th is an
important day in my life. It’s
a time for reflection on the
natal date of my Aunt Sadie, my
brother/friend
J. Nash and to
celebrate being wedded to my
wife and fellow warrior.
2010
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Poem: Fireman's
Ball /
It Aint
My Fault by Mos Def & Lenny Kravitz
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Salvage the Bones
A Novel by Jesmyn Ward
On one level, Salvage the Bones is a simple story about a poor black family that’s about to be trashed by one of the most deadly hurricanes in U.S. history. What makes the novel so powerful, though, is the way Ward winds private passions with that menace gathering force out in the Gulf of Mexico. Without a hint of pretension, in the simple lives of these poor people living among chickens and abandoned cars, she evokes the tenacious love and desperation of classical tragedy. The force that pushes back against Katrina’s inexorable winds is the voice of Ward’s narrator, a 14-year-old girl named Esch, the only daughter among four siblings. Precocious, passionate and sensitive, she speaks almost entirely in phrases soaked in her family’s raw land. Everything here is gritty, loamy and alive, as though the very soil were animated. Her brother’s “blood smells like wet hot earth after summer rain. . . . His scalp looks like fresh turned dirt.” Her father’s hands “are like gravel,” while her own hand “slides through his grip like a wet fish,” and a handsome boy’s “muscles jabbered like chickens.” Admittedly, Ward can push so hard on this simile-obsessed style that her paragraphs risk sounding like a compost heap, but this isn’t usually just metaphor for metaphor’s sake. She conveys something fundamental about Esch’s fluid state of mind: her figurative sense of the world in which all things correspond and connect. She and her brothers live in a ramshackle house steeped in grief since their mother died giving birth to her last child. . . . What remains, what’s salvaged, is something indomitable in these tough siblings, the strength of their love, the permanence of their devotion.— WashingtonPost
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The New Jim Crow
Mass Incarceration in the Age of
Colorblindness
By Michele Alexander
Contrary to the
rosy picture of race embodied in Barack
Obama's political success and Oprah
Winfrey's financial success, legal
scholar Alexander argues vigorously and
persuasively that [w]e have not ended
racial caste in America; we have merely
redesigned it. Jim Crow and legal racial
segregation has been replaced by mass
incarceration as a system of social
control (More African Americans are
under correctional control today... than
were enslaved in 1850). Alexander
reviews American racial history from the
colonies to the Clinton administration,
delineating its transformation into the
war on drugs. She offers an acute
analysis of the effect of this mass
incarceration upon former inmates who
will be discriminated against, legally,
for the rest of their lives, denied
employment, housing, education, and
public benefits. Most provocatively, she
reveals how both the move toward
colorblindness and affirmative action
may blur our vision of injustice: most
Americans know and don't know the truth
about mass incarceration—but her
carefully researched, deeply engaging,
and thoroughly readable book should
change that.—Publishers
Weekly |
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The White Masters
of the World
From
The World and Africa, 1965
By W. E. B. Du Bois
W. E. B. Du Bois’
Arraignment and Indictment of White Civilization
(Fletcher)
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Ancient African Nations
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If you like this page consider making a donation
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Negro Digest / Black World
Browse all issues
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____ 2005
Enjoy!
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The
Death of Emmett Till by Bob Dylan
/
The Lonesome Death of Hattie Carroll
/
Only a Pawn in Their Game
Rev. Jesse Lee Peterson Thanks America for Slavery /
George Jackson /
Hurricane Carter
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The Journal of Negro History issues at Project Gutenberg
The
Haitian Declaration of Independence 1804
/
January 1, 1804 -- The Founding
of Haiti
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posted 25
May 2010
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