“ETERNAL VIGILANCE IS THE PRICE OF LIBERTY”
July is the
birthday month of many strong women!
Caroline (July 3), Margaret Walker (July 7), June Jordan (July 9), Mary
McLeod Bethune (July 10), and today, July 16, is the birthday of Ida B.
Wells. She was born in 1862 in Holly
Springs, Mississippi, on the land owned by the man who “owned” her father and
mother, Jim and Elizabeth Wells. She was
born just before General Grant’s troops captured Holly Springs in the Civil
War. It would be a few more months
before Union control of Holly Springs was solidified, but Ida Wells lived the
early years of her life in slavery, yet under the oversight of the Union
army. On the land where she was born,
there now stands not the house of her former owner but rather a museum in her
memory.
And,
remembered she should be! Though born
into slavery, she came to consciousness in the time of the Emancipation
Proclamation and the defeat of the Confederacy in the Civil War. Thus, her primary definition was not “slave,”
not “property of white people.” Her
primary definition was daughter of God, woman held in slavery by those who
professed the idea that all people are created equal. She never allowed that internalized
oppression to enter her heart and consciousness. She never accepted the idea that she and her
family were slaves because they were supposed to be slaves. She understood from the earliest stages that
she was held as a slave because of the oppressive nature of the masters, and
this consciousness made a huge difference in her life and in her imagination.
I have
written about Ida Wells often, and Catherine Meeks and I are now working on a
book about her witness for our time. For
today’s blog, I want to share one snapshot from her life. In 1875 in its last significant law for civil
rights until 1957, the U. S. Congress passed an act that forbade segregation on
public accommodations. In 1883, the US
Supreme Court ruled the Civil Rights Act of 1875 unconstitutional, and the
floodgates of segregation and re-enslavement were open fully. In the spring of 1884, Ida Wells followed her
usual pattern of purchasing a seat in the ladies car on the train on a trip out
of Memphis. After the train had pulled
out, the conductor came to collect the tickets and then informed her that she
would have to move to the car reserved for black people. Seventy-one years before Rosa Parks, she
refused to give up her seat, and when he grabbed her and tried to pull her up
from her seat, she bit his hand and braced herself not to move – no nonviolent
resistance for her. He went to get male
reinforcements, and it took three men to throw her off the train.
Undeterred,
she took the railroad to court under Tennessee law, and the judge who heard the
case was a former Union soldier. He
ruled in her favor and awarded her $500 in damages. She was thrilled with the victory, but it was
short-lived. The railroad appealed to
the Tennessee Supreme Court, and in 1887, they overturned the verdict. Ida Wells was crestfallen and wrote in her
diary on April 11:
“I had hoped for such great things from my suit for my
people generally. I have firmly believed
all along that the law was on our side and would, when we appealed to it, give
us justice. I feel shorn of that belief
and utterly discouraged, and just now if it were possible would gather my race
in my arms and fly far away with them.”
Wells was
beginning to develop the sense that the power of racism was deep and wide in
those classified as “white,” and she would later lift up a phrase that
ironically Ronald Reagan would use as one of his hallmark phrases: “Eternal vigilance is the price of
liberty.” Wells meant it in the sense
that we know it today: racism is deeply
embedded and intertwined in our American consciousness, and we must always be
working to mitigate its loathsome power.
Some of us had hoped that its power was ebbing with the election of
Barack Obama, but we have seen so many examples of its continuing power, not
the least of which was the election of the ultimate white man, Donald Trump,
whose signature phrase was “Make America Great Again.” We call it “staying woke” today – Wells
called it eternal vigilance.
Wells would be shaking her head but also
shaking her fist and calling on all of us to stand and seek to deliver on the
promises of the powerful idea of equality, adopted in her birth month into the
Declaration of Independence. Through
many dangers, toils, and snares, she stood and delivered, and on her birthday,
let us seek to walk in some of her steps.
If you’d like a short intro to her life, let me know, and I’ll send you
one. Or find her autobiography “Crusade
for Justice,” lovingly pieced together by her daughter Alfreda Duster.
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