Black Music Month was first observed on June 7, 1979 at the White House.
As B.B. King observed, African Americans first got the blues when “they brought [us] over on a ship.”
Enslaved Africans used the message in the music to plan their escape.
Music helped runaways navigate the pathway to freedom.
On their quest for freedom, some of our enslaved ancestors found sanctuary in Abolition Hall and the surrounding fields. A developer’s plan to develop the fields struck a discordant note with Sydelle Zove, convener of Friends of Abolition Hall, and Avenging The Ancestors Coalition. ATAC Founder Michael Coard recently wrote:
Abolition Hall was built in 1856 by George Corson, a Quaker abolitionist. It, its adjacent family home, and purportedly its adjacent fields were where Black men, women, and children took shelter in courageous attempts to flee slavery. Zove says the developer proposes to “subdivide and reconfigure” this historic homestead to construct 67 townhouses on the open fields directly next to the hall. Once divided, notes Zove, the developer plans to sell the hall, the stone barn, and the Thomas Hovenden House – all listed on the aforementioned National Register. She continues by pointing out that it’s not just the hall that’s in jeopardy but also the “fields where cornstalks hid fugitives”—fields she describes as an “integral part of the site.”
The developer’s proposal would box in the national historic landmark. So Friends of Abolition Hall and ATAC are asking concerned citizens to raise their voices and tell Whitemarsh Township: Abolition Hall deserves better. The Board of Supervisors will meet on Thursday, June 14, 2018, at 7pm, 616 Germantown Avenue in Lafayette Hill. If you need a ride, holler.
The first Decoration Day, as the commemoration of the nation’s war dead was originally called, was observed on May 1, 1865. The African American origin of the holiday was suppressed by white Southerners. David W. Blight, a professor of history and the director of the Gilder Lehrman Center for the Study of Slavery, Resistance and Abolition at Yale University, discovered the hidden history while digging through the archives at Harvard University.
In a 2011 op-ed piece in the New York Times, Dr. Blight wrote:
Whites had largely abandoned the city [Charleston, SC], but thousands of blacks, mostly former slaves, had remained, and they conducted a series of commemorations to declare their sense of the meaning of the war.
The largest of these events, forgotten until I had some extraordinary luck in an archive at Harvard, took place on May 1, 1865. During the final year of the war, the Confederates had converted the city’s Washington Race Course and Jockey Club into an outdoor prison. Union captives were kept in horrible conditions in the interior of the track; at least 257 died of disease and were hastily buried in a mass grave behind the grandstand.
After the Confederate evacuation of Charleston black workmen went to the site, reburied the Union dead properly, and built a high fence around the cemetery. They whitewashed the fence and built an archway over an entrance on which they inscribed the words, “Martyrs of the Race Course.”
The symbolic power of this Low Country planter aristocracy’s bastion was not lost on the freed people, who then, in cooperation with white missionaries and teachers, staged a parade of 10,000 on the track. A New York Tribune correspondent witnessed the event, describing “a procession of friends and mourners as South Carolina and the United States never saw before.”
The procession was led by 3,000 black schoolchildren carrying armloads of roses and singing the Union marching song “John Brown’s Body.” Several hundred black women followed with baskets of flowers, wreaths and crosses. Then came black men marching in cadence, followed by contingents of Union infantrymen. Within the cemetery enclosure a black children’s choir sang “We’ll Rally Around the Flag,” the “Star-Spangled Banner” and spirituals before a series of black ministers read from the Bible.
Philadelphia is the birthplace of the American democracy and a City of Firsts. While there are thousands of places that matter, only two percent of historic buildings are listed on the Philadelphia Register of Historic Places. Without historic designation, buildings may be demolished with impunity.
Sadly, historic designation provides little protection from demolition by neglect. Without court intervention, that fate may await the Robert Purvis House. Built circa 1859, this is the only extant home of the cofounder of the American Anti-Slavery Society and the Library Company of Colored People. Because of its association with a leading abolitionist, the house is a significant resource within the Spring Garden Historic District.
In October 1838, the voters of Pennsylvania approved a new state constitution that limited the power of the governor, prohibited the legislature from granting special favors to corporations, and ended life tenure for judges. The new constitution also stripped black Pennsylvanians of their right to vote, a right guaranteed under law since 1790. African Americans had since then lost the ability to vote in some Pennsylvania counties, including Philadelphia. But the constitutional disenfranchisement of black voters was yet another ominous sign of the rising power of the slaveocracy in the United States and of the growing fears of black political and economic power in the state of Pennsylvania.
The appeal quoted above was penned by Robert Purvis, then fast emerging as one of Philadelphia’s most prominent abolitionists. The year before, Purvis was the principal organizer of the Vigilant Association of the Philadelphia, founded to promote the anti-slavery movement and “to create a fund to aid colored persons in distress.” In the decades that followed he and his wife Harriet would use their home to harbor slaves escaping to Canada along the Underground Railroad and Purvis would act as a tireless leader in the struggle not just for the rights of African Americans, but for the equal rights of all Americans, regardless of their race, nationality, or sex.
Noris and Miguel Santiago purchased the Robert Purvis House on December 19, 1977. The couple did not maintain the historic landmark; instead, they racked up years of building code violations.
The slumlords have fought efforts to save the Robert Purvis House. Barbara Wolf has served on the board of the Spring Garden Community Development Corporation since its inception. In an email, Wolf wrote:
The owners of this historic property have repeatedly and persistently failed to take the basic necessary steps, even when court ordered, to maintain and secure this building. Through willful neglect, they have caused the rear of the building to collapse, with resultant city’s demolition because of immediate safety concerns. The son of the owners in a recent court hearing even boldly stated that he wanted the remaining front block of the building to be demolished. This building survived in solid shape for over 100 years before the owners’ purchase in 1977. In a little over 40 years, the rear EL wall has collapsed and the remaining front is seriously deteriorated in an “unsafe” condition.
Wolf’s petition for the appointment of a conservator to restore the Robert Purvis House is supported by the City of Philadelphia. But right now, the property is tangled in a legal morass in federal bankruptcy court. As the result of neglect by financially and morally bankrupt scoundrels, a building that holds stories of organized resistance to slavery may be erased from public memory.
May is Preservation Month, a time for folks to celebrate places that matter to them. Few places matter more to me than Underground Railroad sites. Abolition Hall in Plymouth Meeting, Pennsylvania, is under threat by a proposal to build 67 townhouses on the George Corson homestead.
Charles L. Blockson, Curator Emeritus of the Charles L. Blockson Afro American Collection at Temple University, is the author of several books on the Underground Railroad. Blockson wrote:
Abolition Hall was an important terminal on the Freedom Network known as the Underground Railroad, not only has local significance but also national significance. As chairperson of the National Park Service Advisory Committee, I referenced this site to highlight the importance of the Underground Railroad. … The site played a significant role in the National Park Service Underground Railroad Study, adopted by Congress to designate the Network to Freedom as a national historic treasure. Abolition Hall is a national, historical site that should be preserved.
An attorney/activist, Coard is host of WURD’s “Radio Courtroom.” On April 29, I was a guest on his show. I alerted his listeners to the alarm sounded by Sydelle Zove in a recent op-ed:
To allow the proposed townhouse project to proceed through the standard land development process absent appropriate due diligence by the developer with regard to the stabilization, restoration, reuse, and marketing of the historic structures is to turn our backs on the Americans who lived here, those who sought shelter here, and others who spoke boldly in opposition to the institution of slavery.
Zove is a convener of Friends of Abolition Hall. In a subsequent email, Zove said:
Our struggle to protect the legacy of this well-documented Underground Railroad station pales in comparison to the travails of the men, women, and children who arrived in Plymouth Meeting seeking sanctuary. And when these fugitives from bondage were welcomed by George and Martha Corson, it was their hosts who were placed at risk – of fines and imprisonment. Today, the Friends of Abolition Hall is determined to fight the proposed 67-unit townhouse plan that will consume the fields where runaways hid among the tall cornstalks. That same plan will send the historic structures – Abolition Hall, Hovenden House, and Barn – to the auction block where they will be sold to the highest bidder. The developer asserts that by not demolishing these buildings, he is preserving them. That is an insult to all who lived here, hid here, and to those of us who argue that Abolition Hall deserves better.
Their struggle is now ATAC’s struggle. Kanye West’s ignorant comment that slavery was a “choice” underscores the importance of preserving in public memory the places that tell the story of America’s original sin.
The developer, K. Hovnanian Homes, will be back before the Whitemarsh Township Board of Supervisors on May 24, 2018.
Freedom isn’t free. Friends of Abolition Hall needs help to continue their fight to save the historic buildings from the auction block. If the walls of Hovenden House, Abolition Hall, and the Barn could talk, they would tell stories of faith, resistance and triumph. Please make a tax-deductible donation in the name of the ancestors.
In 2007, the United Nations General Assembly designated March 25 as an annual International Day of Remembrance of the Victims of Slavery and the Transatlantic Slave Trade.
For white Americans, slavery is something that happened in the distant past and has nothing to do with them. Fact is, the legacy of forced migration and 400 years of free labor is evident today. It’s evident in the wealth gap, school-to-prison pipeline, inequitable school funding and desecration of the black body.
From my teenage fascination with the fictional Mandingo to the joy in knowing two colleagues discovered an Underground Railroad safe house in Philadelphia, slavery and the ancestors are never far from mind. Although I have read countless books about the “peculiar institution,” I still don’t know how the ancestors survived. But I am emboldened by their faith – and resistance – and revel in the rich cultural heritage that they bequeathed us.
An estimated 100,000 enslaved Africans were brought to Venezuela where their descendants, Afro-Venezuelans, are subject to colorism. As in the United States, if you’re white, you’re alright. If you’re brown, stick around. But if you’re black, get back.
Afrodescendants face discrimination in a region that has a fondness for racial caricatures. The Mexican comic book character Memín Pinguín is popular throughout Latin America. Loathed by Afro-Latinos, the caricature has been denounced by Hispanic American civil rights organizations, including the League of United Latin American Citizens and UnidosUS (formerly National Council of La Raza).
A study on “Hate Speech and The Language of Racism in Latin America” found:
In Latin America where Jim Crow state-mandated exclusion never existed, racist speech about Afro-descendants is ubiquitous and facilitates the social exclusion of Afro-descendants. In addition, to the term “negro” (black/negro) being derogatory, Afro-descendants are stereotyped and referred to as inherently criminal, intellectually inferior, overly sexual, and animalistic. Because the racialized stereotypes of Afro-descendants are pervasive, they are commonly understood to smell like animals and in particular monkeys.
Racial caricatures have been used as brands across the region. In Colombia, Mimo’s ice cream flavours were depicted by race: a black man for chocolate, a white girl for vanilla.
A little over two years ago, a Venezuelan couple set up shop in Harlem. They chose to brand their products “The Monkey Cup.” The company’s logo bears a striking resemblance to Memín Pinguín.
The co-owner says the name stems from her husband’s love for monkeys. Truth be told, “monkey” is a common derogatory term Venezuelans use for people of African descent. Hugo Chavez, Venezuela’s first president of African and Indigenous descent, was called “Miko Mandante” (“Ape Commander”) by his opponents.
There is a long history of monkey iconography that depicts blacks as less than human. The caricatures are used to support a system of white supremacy and racial discrimination.
The use of a name and image associated with American – and Venezuelan – racial exclusion effectively denies access to a public place to people of African descent. In Venezuela, I would be considered “brown” or “mestizo” so maybe I would be welcomed. But I’d rather drink muddy water than a drop of whatever they’re brewing at “The Monkey Cup.”
I lived in Atlanta-DeKalb County for three years. Although Stone Mountain is in DeKalb County, I never went there. For most of the 20th century Stone Mountain was effectively a “sundown town” which African Americans entered at their own risk.
In the wake of the white nationalist rally in Charlottesville, cities across the country have removed Confederate monuments. However, Stone Mountain, which is now overwhelmingly black, can’t touch the symbol of hate and white supremacy. The reason: In 2001, the Republican-controlled legislature passed Ga. Code § 50-30-1.
The United Daughters of the Confederacy used public art to propagate the “Lost Cause” mythology and romanticize the Confederate generals who tried to destroy the Union. The false narrative is believed by alleged child molester and sore loser Roy Moore who longs for the good old days when his ancestors could buy my ancestors:
I think it was great at the time when families were united — even though we had slavery — they cared for one another…. Our families were strong, our country had a direction.
This short documentary by Field of Vision shows how fake news was embedded in white Southerners’ psyche.
RT @NMAAHC: From lunch counters to bus boycotts, the African American fight for integration and equality touched every aspect of life.
The… 2 hours ago
RT @NMAAHC: The Civil Rights Act of 1964, made racial segregation illegal in public accommodations like pools & beaches.
Journey with us a… 2 hours ago
