For several weeks now I have had various words and tunes in my head that parallel auction blocks and sale of Black-owned farms on courthouse steps. Not that these two situations are entirely analogous, but that they do have some curious and demeaning parallels. "No More Auction Block" by Robeson, Odetta, and Dylan is the standard. At the end of the day, I may just add some lyrics to that haunting tune.
In the midst of doing some research on auction blocks, I came across the book, Bullwhip Days: The Slaves Remember. You can read a review here. It is not a warm-hearted read, but it is a "I need to know and respect and remember" read. One remembrance that especially moved my heart and fits into the conversation about lyrics and tunes is one by James Martin. Here he is in his own words:
The slaves are put in stalls like the pens they use for cattle--a man and his wife with a child on each arm. And there's a curtain, sometimes just a sheet over the front of the stall, so the bidders can't see the "stock" too soon. The overseer's standin' just outside with a big blacksnake ship and a pepperbox pistol in his belt. Across the square a little piece, there's a big platform with steps leadin' up to it.
Then, they pulls up the curtain, and the bidders is crowdin' around. Them in back can't see, so the overseer drives the slaves out to the platform, and he tells the ages of the slaves and what they can do. They have white gloves there, and one of the bidders takes a pair of gloves and rubs his fingers over a man's teeth, and he says to the overseer, "You call this buck twenty years old? Why there's cup worms in his teeth. He's forty years old, if he's a day." So they knock this buck down for a thousand dollars. They calls the men "bucks" and the women "wenches."
When the slaves is on the platform--what they calls the "block"--the overseer yells, "Tom or Jason, show the bidders how you walk." Then, the slaves step across the platform, and the biddin' starts.
At these slave auctions, the overseer yells, "Say, you bucks and wenches, get in your hole. Come out here." Then, he makes 'em hop, he makes 'em trot, he makes 'em jump. "How much," he yells, "for this buck? A thousand? Eleven hundred? Twelve hundred dollars?" Then, the bidders makes offers accordin' to size and build.----page 291.
These images must not be denied nor forgotten.
Saturday, May 28, 2011
Auction Blocks and Courthouse Steps
Sunday, May 8, 2011
Just a Few More Words
The previous post from today deserves a few more words. As most of you who read the words on these pages know, I have been actively involved with the Black Farmers and Agriculturalists Association since 2005. A modest faculty renewal leave from Abilene Christian University led to an engagement with Gary Grant, President of BFAA. Justifiably so, this organization needed to check me out. From there, my wife and I went to Tillery in the summer of 2005 followed by trips to North Carolina, Georgia, Oklahoma, Kansas, and Texas to interview African American farmers who had experienced discrimination at the hands of the USDA.
That partnership led to Memphis, TN and a Black Summit, and then Summits in North Carolina, and even a modest role on the board of BFAA. Interviews with both Black and White farmers in the region.
Along the way, my role was very clear: tell the stories of Black farmers in places and spaces where they will not or cannot go, explain the impact of discrimination and "farming while Black" on the health and well being of farmers and families, and get the stories and the health challenges to as broad an audience as possible.
Along the way we also developed four Social Justice Teams at ACU. You'll find them within the pages of this blog. Those people and those efforts flow through my veins unlike any other work with university students. To this day, those students and I talk on occasion about those days, and they tell me about what they are doing for the cause of justice in this world. I am proud of them and the work we did.
At the 12th Annual Black Land Loss Summit, immediately after lunch, we assembled for the beginning of afternoon presentations and conversations. First, there was an award to Rose Sanders, a hero in the fight for justice as she worked on behalf of farmers involved in the Pigford Class Action Suit.
It was then my turn to present. Instead, Gary Grant asked for me to come forward. I was in my own world of thinking about the presentation (it is noted a post or two back). He also called in Charla from the booth outside the conference hall. I do not recall what Gary said, but I do recall the family gathering around, and Charla saying some words that only she can say in ways that only she can say them. I whispered to Gary,"I'll say a few things in my presentation." Photos were taken.
I moved to the front to speak. Words would not come. Emotions did. Words would not. It is not like me to draw a blank. All I could say was "stunned." Fighting through the tears, I babbled a few things and moved into the presentation. Thankfully the moment is memorialized in the Commonwealth Progress. There we all are. I looked stunned, Charla is in tears, the family is clapping, and one grandson looks on in curiosity.
So, I do not feel deserving of this award. That is what some have said. I am honored to receive the award named for a man who died before I came along. I am honored to have on my wall an award in his name. I love his family.
My wife and I are committed to the cause for which he and his beloved wife died.
That is the best that I can do.
There is much to be done.
"A Man Called Matthew Award"
P.O. Box 61
Tillery, NC 27887
The list of past recipients of “A Man Called Matthew Award” is lengthy and impressive, and for my name to be listed alongside theirs is an honor unlike any I have ever received. Those men and women form in my limited estimation a hall of fame of those who have immersed themselves in the fight for justice for African American farmers.
Unlike that afternoon at the 12th National Black Land Loss Summit when I could not find the words to express my gratitude, the time since has allowed moments of reflection upon the intersection of our paths and convictions. A modest faculty renewal leave in 2005 from Abilene Christian University, the visits to Tillery, the friendships that you have formed with my wife, Charla, and me, engaging with students from the Social Justice Teams, the Summits at Tillery and at Franklinton Center, and the encouragement to tell the stories of farmers and families, all form an amazing tapestry of our mutual commitment to the cause of justice for African American farmers and families.
Some matters are simply intellectual pursuits and look good in a faculty member’s tenure and promotion file, but justice is at the heart of the Gospel of Jesus Christ, a reflection of the reign of God’s kingdom in this world. Our calling as followers of the Man from Nazareth is to leave the world a better place than we found it, one act of righteousness at a time.
Simply put, I am very grateful for your willingness to entrust to Charla and me the stories of your lives, and to allow us to walk with you and to fight with you on behalf of African American farmers and families. My commitment is to “wear” the award with dignity, respect, and humility.
With love and respect, and on behalf of Black farmers and families,
Waymon R. Hinson, Ph.D.
Activist/Advocate/Researcher
Sunday, May 1, 2011
No More Auction Block
I was recently introduced to Bob Dylan's version of this song. This one by Odetta is incredible.
