Telling Our Stories: Anita Hackley-Lambert

(From time to time I am going to highlight people, amateur or professional – who are telling the stories of their own family history, or shining a light on forgotten Black historical figures.)

Anita Hackley-Lambert had a promise to keep. A promise made not by her, originally, but one passed down through the generations until it finally reached someone who could, or would, keep it. A promise not to let F.M.H. Murray’s (Hackley-Lambert’s great-grandfather) legacy be forgotten. And so was born…

F.H.M. Murray: First Biography of a Forgotten Pioneer for Civil Justice

Ms Hackley-Lambert says:

I did not become serious about my writing until I promised my blind mother I would honor her promise to her mother who had promised her father (F.H.M. Murray) she would not allow his legacy to be forgotten. At that time, I was unaware of the huge challenge that lay ahead — research and validation. I had no way of knowing it would take more than ten years researching to compile his story into a historical format with endnotes and an index. My final inspiration to complete the manuscript came from a request from the Harpers Ferry National Historical Park to bring copies of my book and to present a scholarly paper at their Centennial Celebration of the Niagara Movement in 2006. Completing this monumental task actually helped me reconnect with myself. I regained my life while fulfilling my own dream to write.

When I came across this book and story, of course it resonated with me. Although I am beginning at an earlier time in my research (antebellum South), my interest in my family (and other) history was spiked by my great-grandfather and his brothers, who also knew and were contemporaries of W.E.B. Dubois and Booker T. Washington.

From Fisk University, where lifelong friendships were formed, to their work with the Tuskegee Institute, and on Du Bois’  magazine, these lives shared interconnections that span many years. It would be interesting to find out if our (Ms. Hackley-Lambert’s and mine) ancestors ever met. As far as I know, none of them worked with the Niagara Movement, but there may have been other points of paths crossing. I’ll have to make a note to look into it when I get to that era. I don’t recall ever having heard of the Niagara Movement before this, in fact, so that’s something to add to my things to research list as well.

Anyway, I’ve not read her book but that doesn’t stop me from recommending it. The important thing is to get the stories out there, to repair the past and maybe learn or teach a little bit more of our forgotten (or suppressed) history.

It heartens me a bit, too, by the way, that she says that it took her ten years of research to even write the book. I doubt it will take me that long for mine, at least the first one, because much of it is necessarily fictionalized – I only have three short paragraphs of fact to work with for my Great-great-great Uncle Louis, but masses of material to fill in the blanks for that time period.

The More Things Change…

(Laurie Cooper Art)

I’ve mentioned this before, but it still surprises me that the more I read of Black history, Black writers in just about every time period I’ve delved into so far, the more I realize how little things have changed. And, also, how much.

We do, in this year of 2010, have a Black president and first lady, yes. Many- not all – previously closed doors are at least cracked open a little for us to squeeze through if we can. We can, at least on paper, live where we want, eat wherever we wish to sit our butts down and, in general, attempt to live out our lives, our dreams, our realities, just like everyone else.

Yet… we still fight the same stereotypes which have never faded away, repurposed refitted themselves for the current times. We still strive, daily, to change the narrative imposed on our lives, our bodies, our many and varied cultures.

Whether we have fully assimilated into mainstream/white society or have (as completely as possible) rejected doing any such thing, our individuality is still an amorphous entity, a puff of self easily dissipated by a news report of some far off person doing some far out thing who, in the minds of some, somehow immediately becomes you.

I still remember how, after the elections in 2004, a woman who I had spent a couple of years talking with in chat rooms just… shocked me. And that’s not easy to do. We weren’t close friends or anything, mind you, but we did have any number of conversations on gay rights (she was a lesbian) and how to move forward on things such as equal marriage rights and other things. These topics weren’t the whole of our conversations – she was not “the lesbian woman chatter” and I was not “the Black woman chatter”; there were also discussions on business, home life, all around aspects of who we were.

So. The day after the 2004 elections she comes into the chat room and, as soon as I say hello to her, announces that “I guess gays and Blacks are enemies now”.

Huh?

It seems the Black churches in Texas, where she lived, were vociferous in their condemnation of GLBT folk and urged their parishioners to vote “No” on whatever legislation was put forth on the Texas ballot that affected the GLBT community and, for whatever reason, I became a substitute for them in her mind.

Now, I understood, in a way, her hurt and disappointment. I was disappointed, too. I even tried to, in my own mind, use that to excuse her behavior – after all, whatever we do, people of color must make other people comfortable with us. But the more I thought about it, the angrier I got, because really… she had no right to completely jettison *me* – my conversation, my views, my years of human rights work and for fighting, in whatever big or small way I can for equal rights, equal justice for all… and replace me with bunch of bigots, no matter that they shared my skin color. No right at all. And, of course, that was just (on a very small scale) the precursor to the reaction of some – by no means all or maybe even most – to the Prop 8 vote in California in 2008. Which is a whole ‘nother story.

Anyway – back to why I was writing this in the first place.

In so many of the works I am reading by Black people in the 18th and 19th centuries (not to mention the 20th) have variations of “We have to tell our own stories. We must work to counter the stereotypes, the slanders, the slurs in popular culture and in the media. We have to take control of our own narratives.”

They were right of course. And they tried and continued trying. As we, today, continue to do the same – with, sadly, about the same effect. I suppose there is comfort though, in the knowledge that with each voice raised, with each passing year or decade or century, we move a little closer to our goal.

Thus, my little site here where I plan to do my part, to the best of my ability.

i am a bad blogger

Once again.

 cartoon from toothpastefordinner.com

Haiti hurt my heart. I’m not sure why as I don’t, as far as I know, know any Haitians, nor have I ever been there. It just did. And unlike many writers/bloggers, when big, bad things hit, my first instinct isn’t to write about it, to react instantly – it’s to go silent. And think. Or mourn. Observe. Then maybe write.

This is me in offline life, as well, so I am not sure that I can change that feature (or bug) of mine, but I am going to make an effort.

Anyway, though silent I have not been idle, writing wise. I have a couple of articles started – one on Haiti, due Monday for Human Beams, and another on Obama and brands, due Wednesday for Serenity. And then a very surface history piece for Book of Louis about the women I had been missing (but then found) who were enslaved in the US. That is due Friday.

What is all this “due” stuff, you may be asking? Well, I’ve also decided to do an editorial type calendar, committing myself to a certain amount of writing for each site per week – plus whatever nattering I happen to do in between the scheduled articles. Now, considering that I’ve already missed one deadline for each (all the dates have been moved back, lol) this may take a little getting used to, for me, to get into the groove. But get into it I will.

I am posting this at all three sites (I know, cheating!) to get something up, and also to be accountable to more than myself. Ack!

Not a Parody – Drapetomania

When I first came across this term, drapetomania, (on DiggsWayne’s twitter stream) I really thought someone must be putting us on. But, no – there seems to be no depth that scientific rascism will not aspire to. So, what is drapetomania?

“DRAPETOMANIA, OR THE DISEASE CAUSING NEGROES TO RUN AWAY.”

From “Diseases and Peculiarities of the Negro Race,” by Dr. Cartwright (in DeBow’s Review)

The whole thing really has to be read to be believed – and even after you read it you might (like me) not even believe that someone actually wrote that with a straight face.

Still, not all is bad. Wackity stuff, but boy can I use it as material in my book!

I Almost Forgot…

To start with the good. It’s sometimes far too easy, particularly in this line of work, to get caught up on the bad.

Like this morning, when I came across a historical paper that was so bad, so unbelievable that I rushed to write it up and link to it – and just stopped myself from clicking “publish” at the last-minute. When I remembered about the good; about teaspoons and shovels.

So, what’s the good for today? We are. All of us, of course (unless we are not) but Black folks in particular, for my purposes. (Even to write that – “Black people are good” – feels almost transgressive and bold, in the face of all that society imputes to us. I think I will write it more often.)

We didn’t lay down and die. Have never laid down and died, never given up, no matter what has been thrown at us, no matter how much some may have wanted to.

That’s one reason I want to begin and end each day on a positive note – to honor those survivors and thrivers who came before, those who exist today and those who will come tomorrow.

I need to expand on this thought and refine it when I have a quiet moment. There are important (to me) parts which I am unable to tease out right now, but I will one day.

[Note: the picture at the top is from here. The writing on the picture is too small for me to read on this device, so I don’t know who painted it. But full credit to whoever it is.)

Black History by the Shovel Full

I love this:

Those interested in understanding the daily lives of slaves are likely to learn more by shoveling dirt than reading through the written records of America’s plantations, Joe L. Speight told an audience at the Camden County Historical Society (CCHS) yesterday.

(Well, “yesterday” being in Febuary 2002, but still – when you’re talking centuries a few years here or there don’t matter much.)

“I am always encouraging African-American students to think about getting involved in archaeology because excavated artifacts provide more accurate information about the slave experience,” said Speight, a retired DuPont chemist who has studied art and archaeology at Rutgers and the University of Pennsylvania.

“The records that exist about slaves were always written from the point of view of the slave master,” he said. “Those records are biased. Their authors often misunderstood what they were seeing and often misrepresented what they recorded. A large part of the daily reality of slaves was never documented and never even seen by slave owners,” Speight said.

Never even seen…

Read about the pipes, too. I’ll have more to say on that at a later date, but it’s lovely.

Teaspoons and Shovels

I want to begin and end each day of posting with something positive, or joyful or hopeful. Not always the easiest things to find material for … but it’s out there.

It may just take a little more digging, but it’s worth it. And speaking of digging…

I just came across an article about slave archealogy, called “Black History by the Shovel Full”. I’ve not had the time (or the brain power) to read it and absorb it yet but that will be my morning hope post, I think.

I’m just loving doing all this research – how could I ever have thought these lives dull or of little interest?

Well, of course I know the reason but that’s why it is so important for us to tell our own stories.

I’m Just Shocked – Shocked!

That you’re shocked.

Hanging President Obama in effigy is actually pretty mild compared to what some of us (particularly Black folks) were expecting to surface. And, indeed, is probably, er… weak tea compared to the other threats and stuff the Secret Service has to filter through.

I think, possibly, that for many white Democrats and other Obama voters, the election and swearing in of our first Black president was a matter of unalloyed joy (barring a few highly offensive things like Rick Warren). For some Black folks, though, things were a bit more complicated.

Take my daughter, for instance, and some of their friends. They are not really political but the tension of the primary and the historic nature of the election itself was not really something even they could miss.

When Obama was announced aa the winner of the election there was disbelief, pride, joy – euphoria, even. Then, separately and together, the thought was expressed -

“I think we’d better keep our little Black children home from school tomorrow in case someone gets the idea to take revenge on Black folks for the election of Obama.”

So, yeah – no surprise here that people feel even more emboldened to openly display racism. Even if done under cowardly cover of darkness.

Strolling Through The Black Past

I love the internet. While it is sometimes full of angst and noisy egos, it’s also just overflowing with generosity – with people sharing their knowledge and expertise just for the pleasure of it.

Anyway, one such resource I’ve come across, which I’m loving so far, is BlackPast.org.

I often have so many facts floating around in my head that sites like this – with not only information itself but links to much, much more – are invaluable.

What’s in a plan?

Now that this is an open, more than book writing and research site I need to plan better just what it will be.

I don’t have a access to a computer yet, not for another week or so, so I can’t do much more than write briefly anyway – so a perfect time to figure it out.
This is what I know I want to do:

*Study Black history in more depth. I missed out on the advent of “Blackness” when I was younger – bad timing, I guess – so I have some catching up to do.

*Also delve more into my own family history – not just the more, initially, “interesting” parts but all of it. Good, bad and ugly.

*Write slightly fictionalized stories of various people I come across – family and otherwise – researching the surrounding times ansd areas while I do so. This qill, ultimately, help with the book.

*Build a community of fellow researchers or just interested persons.

That’s enough to be going on with, I think.