Dear Mr. and Mrs. Farmer

This morning you came to mind as I read Psalm 103.

I was reminded of our conversation several months back as we sat in your kitchen there in your home not far from the Raleigh/Durham area. You were willing to talk with me, a researcher from a small west Texas university about your struggles with the USDA.

I knew I was an unwelcome guest when one of your sons came in asking "who is the clown" who parked in the middle of the drive way. My car was not in the middle of the drive way, Mr. and Mrs. Farmer, but that question served notice that there was an unwelcome guest in your home. That unwelcomed guest was me. I suspect he was trying to protect you from people who look like me. I am a white man, and I was a stranger to you and those who loved you.

I took no offense at the harshly tenored question. You were then elderly, and now even older, and an honorable son would not want his parents to be further wounded and disadvantaged by anyone. His tone and his words did put me on edge, and justifably so.

During those early moments of the interview, and even later toward the end of the interview, you commented Mr. Farmer, while Mrs. Farmer stood over against the refrigerator in the kitchen, that "He will take care of things. Pay day some day. God will take care of those who hurt people."

Then an older son came in. Mrs. Farmer, you had called him to notify him that the interviewer was there and wanted to talk to him as well. He challenged me left and right, didn't he? I personally had done no wrongs to you or to him, but "my people," those of us whose skin is white had harmed all of you. Those of us whose skin is white who live and work in positions of power and privilege had indeed harmed all of you.

You had lost your farm. You like other black farmers had been shoved to the back of the line in terms of programs and policies within the local county FSA office, a division of the USDA. Because your skin is darker than other folks, they saw you coming, ignored you, made you wait, altered your farm operation plans, and then gave you less than what you needed, and later than you could use. Then the unspeakable happened, a disaster year occurred, like it did to other farmers, yet they received disaster relief funds that saw them through, and you were not afforded the same opportunity.

There was a lot of hurt and anger, tears and sadness, and bitterness and rage that day. Some of your kin could have died. They have heart conditions. Yet they remain true to God.

They believe similar things as did the writer of Psalm 103.

I hope you all are right, that God will settle the score, that in the end things will work out right.

I only wish, Mr. and Mrs. Farmer, that you owned your land, and that your sons worked the land you and they owned.

I still remember that day in your home, Mr. and Mrs. Farmer. That day is indelibly printed in my mind and in my heart.

I still remember.

Further reflections and wonderments

Several students have read the previous post about "the forgotten county." They have responded to it in a variety of ways. Some are puzzled that the word of such a huge class action suit would not be seen on everyone's television set, and shared in conversations of every Black farmer in the land.

Others have responded with sentiments like, "of course, not." Not everyone has cable. Not everyone reads certain magazines like Jet or TV Guide or subscribes to certain newspapers. It's a myth, some have suggested, that every African American family has cable, and that every Black family watches BET and CNN. Some skeptics have even suggested that depending upon the number of advertisements bought and paid for by somebody, a farmer and family would have to be glued to the television set.

On the other hand, if you've had the flu that's been going around this part of the world of late, you probably have seen a number of advertisements by various attorneys with 1-800 numbers to call if you have taken certain medications and been diagnosed with certain conditions. A lot of money is spent by firms whose intent is to locate those folks for inclusion into their cases.

I personally wonder about networks, and how it is that personal networks failed to connect some folks with other folks with other folks with other folks. My skepticism says that just because a Black farmer hears of something like this, doesn't mean that he and his family will necessarily jump at participation. Described as less than a full loaf of bread, that something is better than nothing, for some it might have been too good to be true, and for some it might represent just one more opportunity to feel the inherent mistrust of those in power. Those in power have a certain color of skin. Those marginalized have another shade of skin color. Skin color has implications in our land for power and privilege.

One more thing I wonder about is the whole process of certifying a class as a class. This where I'd appreciate a reader who understands these matters to wade in. My understanding is that the "Manual for Complex Litigation" contains the procedures for certifying a class and for notifying potential members of a class that a class is being certified. The notice should include eleven things including definitions, options, terms of the proposed settlement, methods for objecting, bases for the allocation and distribution of funds, etc. (p. 295). A particularly interesting point is made relative to who is to receive settlement notice and how notice is be delivered. Key words are used such as "reasonable manner," "all class members who would be bound by a proposed settlement," "individual notice is required, where practicable," and "posting notices and other information on the internet, publishing short, attention-getting notices" in various published mediums.

Of most interest to me is why the announcements did not come via the FSA in DC to the state FSA office, and then to the county FSA office. These offices know the farmers in a given locale. Surely names and addresses are found in files in cabinets in offices under someone's administrative control.

At some point on this blog perhaps we'll discuss the role of key attorneys in the development of the case and how farmers have responded to what was ultimately written into the Pigford Consent Decree.

So, as someone has suggested, maybe the process did indeed fit the letter of the law, but it seemed designed to fail. Yes, designed to fail if informing EVERY Black farmer is the intent, but not if informing SOME Black farmers is the intent.

I'm just a professor of marriage and family therapy. Legal things are beyond me, at least legal things of this magnitude and scope. Perspectives and information are invited.

Mr. Hall meet Mr. Young; Mr. Young meet Mr. Hall

Thursday morning in Frankfort, Kentucky ought to be interesting. In a small town nearby, Harry Young, long time farmer, lives on a small portion of what was a large and successful family farm.

Unfortunately, he got in the cross-hairs of the USDA and has lost his land.

So, on Thursday there will be a "protest/teach-in" led by various and sundry people from around the area and around the country. You'll see a variety of people at the entry to the Kentucky State University campus. Originally the group was relegated to the football field, some distance from the flow of traffic, and what these folks want is visibility and notoriety for their just cause. So, the president of KSU has relented and given permission for this group to assemble in this more visible spot.

Also occurring on the very same day, Jeff Hall, Director of the FSA office for the USDA there in Kentucky, will be meeting with Black farmers to discuss the 2007 Farm Bill and its implications for them.

So, what is Harry Young, family, friends, and supporters mad about? Check out an earlier post on this blog to specific links, but in short, this story appears too massively complicated and unreal to be real. The USDA alleged that they loaned him a huge sum of money and that he didn't pay it. Mr. Young says that he never got it, that someone else must have received it. It was a rather large sum of money, in fact. However, given the huge sum of money, one would think that there would be a money trail. The USDA won't open up its books to show the evidence that it has. Mr. Young has no evidence that he got; in fact, his evidence is that he never got it. Next came the threat of selling his land. He wasn't even allowed to sell the coal beneath his land to get rid of the debt that he never incurred. Now he's lost his land, and to make matters worse, there are now reports of KKK activities on his land.

Something's just not right about this picture. Something is very, very wrong about this picture.

So, it ought to be an interesting day, November 15th, Frankfort, Kentucky, KSU campus.

Return to CRAT

In 1997 when the Civil Rights Action Team held their listening sessions in Albany, GA, New Orleans, LA, Halifax, NC, Belzoni, MS, and other places, they got an earful. Minority and limited-resource farmers recounted story after story of discrimination in the county offices of the FSA. If services were offered, delays and other things would block their usefulness.

More minorities were disapproved than non-minorities. In one state, 67% of African-American loans were approved and in another state 78%, which compared with 83% and 90% non-minority, makes things look pretty bad for the Black farmers of those states. In terms of processing times for loans, the process oftentimes took three times as long for minority farmers than for non-minority farmers. While limited-resource farmers have their own unique set of challenges given acreage, yield levels, problems with collateral, cash flow, etc., the sytem should not discriminate against Blacks versus non-Blacks.

Other problems were highlighted in the CRAT report such as lack of diversity on county committees, lack of availability of relief funding offered to White farmers, and lack of relief in the complaint processes, especially when the process leads back to the point at which the complaint was filed in the first place. Black farmers would often choose not to file a complaint because they were pessimistic about the potential outcome including fear of further reprisals. This was described as "the fox guarding the hen house (p. 24)."

One farmer is quoted in the CRAT as saying, "when hearings officers rule for the agencies, they were competent [upheld] 98 percent of the time, but when they ruled for the farmer, these same hearing officers were incompetent [reversed] over 50 percent of the time....This is indisputable evidence of bias and discrimination against a whole class of farmers..... (p. 24)."

Another farmer said, "I felt like that if I enter a complaint, then that would just speed up (the) foreclosure process on me. And I didn't want to do that, because some farmers, they already have complaints in with Farmers Home. And it didn't do them any good (p. 24)."

A graphic illustration was described by a farmer in the southeast: ".....and we never received our moneys on time. We never received our moneys on time. Which normally you would get a check November/December so you could start paying for the upcoming year. But I’ve never received a loan to my memory, it was already into the operating years, most of the time it was April when I received the money. My records would show that, that it was mostly in April when I would receive my loan. Too late to plant, actually to receive the total benefits from your crop that it was able to produce the maximum amount of production. It was too late to get that, receiving your moneys in April. You plant in maybe the last of April and May. You never would see the full benefits of the production from the crop."

He was one of those few who prevailed under the Pigford Class Action Case, so he still owns the land and is on the land, working the land, but it hasn't been easy. It's been far more difficult than for the average farmer in that area.

One way to insult a Black farmer

I've never been a farmer. Grandfathers on both sides were farmers, and my father worked in the woods hauling pulpwood for a paper mill and driving a bulldozer for a wealthy rancher back in East Texas. Those were all proud people. Proud, but poor. Hardworking, salt of the earth folks.

I've met some other proud people, people who were modest in possessions, but proud of their heritage, culture, and skills on the farm. One says he was the first to go to the no-till method of planting cotton in his area. When I met him he was driving a truck. He'd been washed out of farming. I could tell he was suffering from a broken heart and shattered dreams.

There are lots of ways of insulting people and one way for insulting a Black farmer is to make him work under a supervisory contract. He applies for operating loans, and the money comes in, but the county supervisor makes him appeal to him (or her as the supervisor is sometimes a woman, though not often) each and every time funds are needed to replace a tractor part or a part for a plow or whatever.

Black farmers observed their White counterparts working the land, growing their crops, spraying herbicides, and other things while they were driving up and down the roads wasting time. One Black farmer said that he had to drive 30-40 miles to the tractor dealer, get a bill, take it to the FSA office and give them the bill so that could in turn wrote a check, and then he would take the check to the tractor dealer to purchase the part. Then he'd drive back to the farm to fix the tractor.

Let's see now. How many extra miles is that? At what cost per gallon of gas? How much time does that take? And, the time is taken away from what farming tasks? How many hours to take care of it directly? How many hours to take care of it in this circuitous manner?

And, at what cost to the human being working under that system? One farmer said it was "an insulting thing," and another, "they was treating you like a child, that you don’t have sense enough to handle your money," and "it was embarrassing," that "they did the blacks that way but they didn’t do the whites that way. "

Seems to me like they said it pretty well.

South Georgia Farmer

It's almost as if it were just yesterday. We sat across the table from each other in a community center in a small south Georgia town. The looks on the faces of those who walked past us showed more than just a little curiosity as the four of us, the Black couple, their friend, and the White man sat, talking and drinking cold, bottled water, in the middle of the afternoon. Both men had been farmers, and she was the wife of one of the farmers. He was the smaller, thinner, leaner, and more fatigued looking of the two men. He spoke softly and quietly. She echoed his words or explained things that he put in few words.

He had just come from his final chemotherapy treatment. It was amazing that he was there. That more than explained his demeanor. We discussed farming, difficulties with the USDA, complications in getting fair treatment with the local FSA office, faith, family, and health. When the conversation shifted to his health, in hushed tones and gravity of speech and voice, he talked about his bout with cancer, his hope for survival, and the reasons he believed he had cancer. Two things, he said explained his cancer, chemicals and worry. Chemicals made sense. Worry made sense. Breathing in what God didn't intend for us to breathe, and constantly thinking, worrying, fretting, struggling with survival on the land against insurmountable odds. I'll never forget that conversation and how he coined for me a new word that spoke to the depths of his being. He didn't use the word "worry," but instead he invented his own word that spoke volumes, the word "worashun." I don't know how to spell it. I can still hear him say it. It stirred me then, and it stirs me now.

Why tell his story, and his invented word that describes the depths of his agony? Simply put, it's because his story, and their story as a couple and family, put faces, words, speech, and emotion into what we suspect, that things changed profoundly in the 20th century for all farmers, and for Black farmers in particular. Those changes? Mechanization, chemicals (herbicides and pesticides), government policy, and the court system.

This gentleman from south Georgia breathed chemicals that were not meant to go into his lungs. He had to work harder with few if any advantages in terms of equipment. He had to face difficult odds in getting operating loans and equipment loans in ways that white farmers didn't have to. He spent a lot of time ruminating and worry and thinking about how to survive against insurmountable odds. The Pigford Class Action Suit did not find justice for him. He was denied.

Seems like only yesterday. It was actually in the fall, 2005. I pray to the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, and to the Father of you and me, that he is doing well