Where do you sit and The Cross and the Lynching Tree

I had a conversation with one of my grandsons after breakfast today.  That is not unusual except for two things.  One, he lives across the street, so we rarely have breakfast together. Second, we talked about a book I was reading by James Cone, The Cross and the Lynching Tree. I was not much older than him when the story I tell below happened. It was one of those times in which the cross and the lynching tree collided, not literally but symbolically and historically. The fact that my friends had to sit apart was an artifact of those horrific times. I was more naïve then. He is more informed now. He cares deeply about these sorts of things.

After that conversation, I remembered this post from days gone by. And by the way, I still tally who sits where in church.

For several months now, I have been noting on Sunday mornings exactly where members of my family sit in church. I sketch out the pews on a piece of paper and note who sits where. Sometimes we sit on two rows.  Sometimes we take up almost the entire length of one row.  One of my grandsons asked why I did that.  My response to him was that I just wanted to remember. 

Sometimes the grandsons sit between their mema and me.  Sometimes they sit to the left and to the right of us. One Sunday it will be one grandson to the left or the right and on another Sunday, it will be another grandson.  Always the same people, but we often sit in different locations. There seems to be no rhyme or reason, just the will of folks at the moment.

I remember from days gone by a rather curious and demeaning decision about where people were to sit.  It made an impression on me, or in some ways it may have scarred me or spurred me on.

The small town church I attended was having a "gospel meeting."  The meeting started on a Sunday and ended on a Wednesday night. In my zeal to invite people to attend the gospel meeting, I invited members of the black church of Christ in town  to attend. I was in my mid-teen years and worked at a grocery store, probably the point of contact with African American brothers and sisters.  So, on a given evening, five or six of our brothers and sisters showed up for church. It caused quite a stir. We greeted them, shook hands, and nervously invited them in to sit.  I was actually glad to see them. Others were noticeably distressed.

At first, my black brothers and sisters sat on the very back row in the small church building on the right side of the auditorium.  Then, with a burst of energy, some of the men of the church went into the back classroom and brought out two old pews from days gone by.  These pews were placed to the front and left of the pulpit from which the preacher would be preaching.  There the pews were placed and there our African American brothers and sisters were invited, or rather told, to sit.

It was an embarrassing occasion. It was the mid-60s. Brothers and sisters in Christ were troubled by the social rules of the day. Lost are lost. Black is black. White is white. Invite, maybe. Sit together, no.

This act of segregation and separation actually caused more of a distinction than would have happened if they had been allowed to sit on the back row.

I felt guilty about that then and I bear some of the scars now.  Through my naive and well intentioned actions, some of my people embarrassed some of my people.  Some of my people were embarrassed by my people. What was perhaps usual and customary for them at the time was new and novel for me. That scene is still emblazoned in my memory.

I was not a political man, or even a political kid.  I just was on fire for God. Just trying to do right in the world.

Those were the times.

I was just a kid.

On those days when I note who sits where in church, I remember.

Putting black land loss in its proper context

I just posted the following to the gofundme.com site. I think it is important enough to repost here.

Thanks to the authors for allowing this.

The following excerpt from the pens of Drs. Spencer Wood and Cheryl Ragar and their article, "Grass Tops Democracy: Institutional Discrimination in the Civil Rights Violations of Black Farmers" (2012), captures the importance of land for the Black community.

The Grant place has its own conflicted history. Stepping out of Gary’s front door and looking east, you see, with a little imagination, a once-thriving agricultural enterprise surrounding Matthew and Florenza’s (deceased 2001) house. The house, now occupied by Evangeline, Gary’s sister and eldest daughter of the family, is a “project house” built around 1935, during the New Deal Resettlement Administration’s experiment in land reform and active involvement in the area. The machinery, in sheds filled with the trappings of farm life, sits unattended as do the out buildings and garden. A glance northwest toward the timeless Roanoke reveals an innocuous brushy wood lying in the middle of a farm field, unkempt and untilled. The indentations scattered throughout the wood are the sunken graves of the former enslaved who once worked the plantation that has since been partitioned to yield part of the Grant farm.

The cemetery of the enslaved stands as a poignant reminder of the area’s slave-holding past, connecting the struggles of the Grant family to a much larger and more inimical tradition of racism and racial inequality. The Grant family farm stands, listing for the time being, in staunch defiance of the persistent mechanisms used to maintain racial inequality. It represents emancipation, equality, and opportunity. Sharing physical and cultural space along a continuum from bondage to freedom the farm and cemetery symbolically encapsulate the colonial origins of global racism and nearly five hundred years of struggle.

Black Land Loss Summit: Howard University, February 20 and 21

Willie still farms on a place his grandfather purchased years ago. His modest single-wide sits beneath a beautiful oak tree whose limb stretches across the sandy loam road named for his deceased wife. His candor and gift of hospitality caught me off guard, as did his stories of how he almost lost his land.

It was a "ball and chain," he said, the practicalities and the humiliation of working under a supervised account, something that the white farmers did not have to do. He could not buy used equipment that would serve him well. He had to buy what the supervisor told him to buy. He got poor advice from an agent he trusted and lost money on his corn crop and pig farm operation.

While other farmers were getting their farm loan operating money in December, he would get his in April or May. That was too late to lease the good land, purchase the best seeds, get fertilizer into the soil. While his crops were just beginning to break through the dirt, his neighbors' crops were maturing. "My darkest days were when I would get a letter in the mail saying they were going to foreclose on me."

To supplement the family income, he had to drive hours away from the farm. His children grew up without him. His wife had health problems. She was diagnosed with asthma. She died from congestive heart failure. All, Willie says because he could not afford good medical care.

He came very close to losing his land, the land his family owned for generations. He prevailed under Pigford I. He barely kept his land.

His story is deep with themes of struggle and resilience. The stories left me stunned.

"My name is written in the land," he said. His story is written on my heart. I am committed to telling his story and stories of other farmers in places and spaces where they cannot go.

The stories must be told.

You will find more information at: http://www.gofundme.com/jgaaq4

Would appreciate your support in getting black farmers to the summit at Howard University on the 20 and 21st, Washington, DC.

The Summit is Coming

The list of names is impressive, perhaps the most impressive of any BFAA Summit in recent years.

The effort needs your help in raising funds to send Black farmers from their farms in the rural south to Howard University for the Summit.  Here is a link that describes those needs.

Here is a photo that is powerful as well. Thanks to Shoun Hill for his creative photography that captures the people and the work.

This of presenters includes farmers, Pete Daniel, Cassandra Jones Havard, Spencer Wood, Gary Grant, Ridgely Muhammad, and others.