"WASHERWOMAN'S STRIKE, 1881"

  “WASHERWOMAN’S STRIKE, 1881”

            As we approach Labor Day in an acrimonious time, I want to note a little-known labor action in Atlanta in the early union days of 1881.  I’ll be using a condensed version of an article that I wrote for Hospitality – the longer version is found at  http://opendoorcommunity.org/wp-content/uploads/2020/07/July-2020-web.pdf.  After the Civil War ended, many rural Black women in the South, previously held as slaves, moved to the urban areas to seek employment and to seek to get away from the neo-slavery that was rapidly redeveloping.

    Many of these newly arrived Black women took in laundry as a way to make money.  Known as “laundresses” or “washerwomen,” more Black women did this kind of work in 1881 in the South than in any other occupation.  It was back-breaking work, with long hours and very low pay.  Picking up dirty clothes at white peoples’ homes on Monday, making their own soap from lye, hauling water from wells or pumps to washtubs made from old beer barrels, scrubbing the clothes on washboards, wringing out the clothes, then hanging or draping them to dry, then ironing the clothes with hot, heavy irons, then delivering the clothes on Saturday -  all for the pay of $4-8 a month.  Still, the women were glad that their “domestic” work enabled them to stay home, rather than have to move to the white peoples’ homes as “almost slaves.” As Sarah Hill put it: “I could clean my hearth good and nice and set my irons in front of the fire and iron all day without stopping…I cooked and ironed at the same time.”  They made a way out of no way. 

    Making a way out of no way did not mean, however, that they were content with it.  In 1881, some 20 of these washerwomen began to meet and to organize to seek better wages.  They also went door to door in their neighborhoods, seeking other washerwomen to support the effort and join in the strike.  Their efforts built on the efforts of others, but it was still early in the labor union movement.  The first labor union in the state of Mississippi was a washerwoman’s union in 1866 in Jackson.  The Knights of Labor was formed in 1869, but the American Federation of Labor was not formed until 1886, so these washerwomen were in the forefront of this developing movement to support workers in their demands for better wages and working conditions.

       The washerwomen of Atlanta named themselves “The Washing Society,” and we have the names of six of them:   Matilda Crawford, Sallie Bell, Carrie Jones, Dora Jones, Orphelia Turner, and Sarah Collier.   They began to organize, and soon their numbers had grown from 20 to 3,000.  They went on strike in late July, 1881, letting their white employers know that unless their wages were raised, no more laundry would be done.  It caused a furor in the white community.  The Atlanta Constitution (AJC) covered the strike almost daily, and its coverage – which is the only written records that we have of the strike – was filled with both contempt and amazement at the temerity of these black washerwomen.  The AC called them the “Washing Amazons,” and in using what it deemed a derisive term, it revealed the fear which these women struck in the heart of privileged, white society.  The idea of “Amazons” originated in ancient Greece and referred to a fierce band of women warriors – indeed “Diana” of the recent movie “Wonder Woman” was living among and trained by Amazons. 

    The AJC had these words about the Washing Society:  “The laundry ladies’ efforts to control the prices for washing are still prevalent and no small amount of talk is occasioned hereby.  The women have a thoroughly organized association and additions to the membership are being made each day……The washerwomen of Atlanta having ‘struck’ for very unreasonably high prices.”   Even more ominous for white society was that talk began among other domestic workers about going on strike.  As the Washing Society strike held out, the City Council went into action to end the strike.  Strikers were arrested for disorderly conduct ; white businessmen proposed building an expensive steam laundry to end the black women’s “monopoly,” and the Council levied an exorbitant tax of $25 on each Washing Society member.  In response to the tax, the Washing Society met at Wheat Street Baptist Church and voted to send this letter to the Mayor – they are the only words that we have from the Washing Society:

 “We the members of our society, are determined to stand to our pledge and make extra charges for washing, and we have agreed, and are willing to pay $25 or $50 for licenses as a protection, so that we can control the washing for the city.  We can afford to pay these licenses, and will do it before we will be defeated, and then we will have full control of the city’s washing at our own prices, as the city has control of our husbands’ work at their prices.  Don’t forget this. We hope to hear from your council meeting Tuesday morning.  We mean business this week or no washing.”

            The city council voted to rescind its action, and the strike proceeded.  Yet, we do not know the resolution of the strike.  The articles in the Constitution eventually faded out, and since we have no other sources, the conclusion of historians is that the Washing Society only got a few of its demands.

     But, on this Labor Day,  it reminds us that the struggle for justice and equity is long and difficult, but so essential.  The economic forces that shaped racism and slavery are deep and powerful, and the only way to bend the arc of history towards justice is to engage in the struggle for such bending.  We are now in a crucial period.  Significant changes will be made in these times.  Let us be inspired by the Washing Society, and let us take up their dirty but cleansing work in order to bend these times toward justice.  Let us too find some labor unions to strengthen and affirm.  

"BRAVE SPACE"

 “BRAVE SPACE”

"BRAVE SPACE"

Caroline and I walked towards the tall, clear glass doors of King Chapel at Morehouse College late Friday afternoon.  The doors were opened for us by impressive Morehouse men, young Black men dressed in dark coats and ties, handing out masks and programs.  The programs described “The Presidential Ceremony,” in which some 60 people would be recognized as 2022 President Joe Biden Award Winners for Lifetime Service.”  Our friend and colleague, Dr. Catherine Meeks, was one of those honorees.

Because of Covid, we had not been in King Chapel in almost three years, although prior to that we had been there many times, especially for the Spelman-Morehouse Christmas concerts.  We have also heard fine lectures there, and I myself was once on that stage when I was inducted into the Martin Luther King, Jr. College of Preachers and Scholars in 2007.  Whenever I enter King Chapel, it is always a powerful experience, because of its namesake and his attending Morehouse, and because it is such powerful Black space.  

On this Friday evening, we gathered with hundreds of others to celebrate and honor those witnesses who have blazed all kinds of trails of justice and equity.  Providentially we sat in the audience with Gary Moore and Joe McDaniel, who had been our hosts in a workshop on race in the Episcopal Diocese in Pensacola in early March, 2020 – our last trip before Covid shut everything down.  They were also there to celebrate and honor Dr. Catherine Meeks.  Sitting in front of us were friends of Catherine’s from her days in Macon, so it was a Catherine Meeks celebration in our section.

Catherine had many dignitaries on stage with her – other recipients included Rev. Dr. Otis Moss, Jr., Rev. Dr. Ben Chavis, Jr., Claudette Colvin, Dr. David Satcher, Dr. Clarissa Myrick-Harris, Mayor Shirley Franklin, Dr. Anne Winbush Watts, Melba Moore, and many others.  We were given rousing charges especially by Rev. Dr. Moss (at 87 years old), reminding us to find our own voices and continue to forge the path blazed by the honorees on stage with him.  He also put it starkly when he said that we should use our economic power to support Black businesses – when we did not, we only supported life on the plantation, or forced labor camps.  Dr. Ben Chavis – in a powerful 2 minute speech – reminded us that no matter whether we had economic power or not, we did have the power to vote in the upcoming elections.  He noted that there had been a low voter turnout in Black precincts in the 2022 primaries, and he emphasized how many people had fought and been jailed and bled and died so that the idea of equality could be demonstrated in the right to vote.

Catherine often reminds us in her work of the necessity of being a little bit braver each day in our work for justice and equity.  She calls it “Brave Space,” and I am grateful to her for her work and ministry.  Growing up in the same time that I did in Arkansas, she could have accepted the white, male supremacist Kool-Aid that we were dispensing.  Her parents were poor and Black in rural Arkansas, but through them and through many others, she heard a different song, a different definition of herself.  She talks about some of her journey in the award-winning book that we wrote together in 2019: “Passionate for Justice: Ida B. Wells as Prophet for Our Time.”  She has been a trailblazer and a witness God’s dream for us, and she describes some of that journey in a video for acceptance of the Presidential Award – here’s the link to it:  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mTSYrl_sPEc.  She also has a new book coming out this fall from Church Publishing “The Night Is Long But Light Comes in the Morning.”  Check out these sources, but for now, join me in giving thanks for the life and continuing life and brave space of Dr. Catherine Meeks!

"STAN AND BIGGIE'S"

 “STAN AND BIGGIE’S”

Today August 22 is the birthday of my childhood friend, Brown Higgins.  He and I were born three months apart and pretty much grew up together, because his grandmother was my “Gran,’ also known as Mrs. Bernice Higgins.  Gran was the great gift to my mother and me – we moved in with her in Helena, Arkansas, after my father abandoned our family for another woman in 1947 or so.  We would live in that house with Gran on Porter Street until Gran died in 1959.  After that my mother rented and later bought the house from Gran’s son Jack.  My mother lived there until her death in 2004.  Gran’s other son was Brown, named after Gran’s birth name.  Brown was the dad of my friend Brown.  In typical Southern style, we called father Brown “Big Brown” and my contemporary “Little Brown,” though as a teenager he  chafed at that name.

Brown and I spent many hours together – his family often gathered at our house on Sunday evenings for Sunday dinner with Gran, and he and I were always in the same grade in school.  He and I had several different personalities – he was assertive and mischievous, while I was shy and reticent.  He had a great sense of humor and often played tricks on people, including me.  We both grew up with the same racist roots – taught by good white people that we were superior because of our racial classification of “white.”  

    Brown’s dad was a big “Ole Miss” football fan, and he used to include me on trips to his native Mississippi to see the football games.  I remember one of those trips vividly.  It was on Saturday, September 29, 1962, the football game that followed the integration of Ole Miss by James Meredith, a Black man who wanted to attend his state university.  In response to this event, white people had caused a race riot in Oxford.   At that football game just after those events, Governor Ross Barnett spoke to the largely white crowd, justifying why he had “stood up” to the federal government against racial justice.  He then led us all in singing a song “Go, Mississippi,” and though Brown and I felt uncomfortable with this song, we joined in singing the song and cheering Ross Barnett.

    I will always be grateful to “Big” Brown for taking me many places with Brown, especially sports events.  Brown often made an annual pilgrimage to St. Louis to see our beloved Cardinals play baseball, and he included me on those trips – as a boy who loved baseball, it was heavenly.  Brown and I often tried to get autographs from the Cardinals’ greatest player Stan Musial,  one of the most feared hitters ever in baseball.  After several summers of failing to get “Stan the Man’s” autograph, we came up with a plan.  We would go and visit Stan Musial at his restaurant in St. Louis, and we would get his autograph there, without so many people pressing around Stan the Man.  The restaurant was known as “Stan and Biggie’s,” and it was a famous fixture in St. Louis in those late 1950’s days.

    Though Brown and I had discussed the plan, I had never thought that we would try to carry through on it.  For me it was just a daydream, a “what if.”  Brown, however, took it seriously, and he devised a plan to carry it out.  We would ride a couple of crosstown busses to get to “Stan and Biggie’s,” go in the afternoon of a scheduled night baseball game, and surely Stan Musial would be there and would somehow welcome us and give us the treasured autographs.  I tried to talk Brown out of it, hoping that his dad would nix the plan, but “Big” Brown said “yes, have at it.”  So, I reluctantly got on the bus at our hotel, headed for a bus transfer in downtown St. Louis, then catch another bus to “Stan and Biggie’s” on Chippewa Avenue.  We had ridden local busses in Helena and urban busses in Memphis on trips there, so neither of us were intimidated by the bus trips.  I just could not imagine that the great Stan Musial would give us the time of day, if we even found him at the restaurant.

    While I felt that I was not worthy, Brown saw it as an opportunity worth pursuing, and pursue it we did.  I still remember getting off the bus at the restaurant – Brown had asked the bus driver to let us off there, and we felt special that he was glad to help us.  We saw the sign “Stan and Biggie’s Charcoal Steak Restaurant,” but I did not want to get too excited, because my Eyeore approach told me that the restaurant would be locked, and even if it were open, Stan would not be there.  The awfulizing went on, but I’ll spare you that, because we opened the door to the restaurant, and there was Stan the Man Musial, standing at the bar, talking with Biggie!

    Stan Musial seemed so pleased to see us, especially when Brown stepped up to say: “Gosh, Mr. Musial, we are such big fans of yours, and we have ridden two busses to find your restaurant.  We hope so much that we can get your autograph!”  My heart was pounding in my chest as Brown said these words, so easily and so matter-of-factly.  Stan Musial responded as the genuine baseball star that he was: “Sure boys, and why don’t I buy you a Coke while you’re here.”  As he signed our photos and shared the soda with us, I remember feeling like I was the king of the world.  I don’t remember anything else that we talked about, and I do not remember the bus ride back to the hotel, but I’ll always remember Brown’s ingenuity in getting us this encounter (and autograph) with Stan Musial.  The restaurant no longer exists (if you want more info on it, here’s a link to it http://losttables.com/musial/musial.htm), but that memory will last me forever.  Thanks, Brown!

"DC RAMBLINGS'

 DC RAMBLINGS

We spent last week in DC in a family reunion, as our granddaughter Emma finished the last week of her summer internship in Representative Hank Johnson’s office.  She had a great time and seems to have gotten the political bug.  We were glad to connect them through our longtime friend and Oakhurst member Christine Callier, who is Hank Johnson’s mother.  We have been glad to watch Hank develop from the early beginnings as an attorney to the fine Congressman that he is now.  

This week caused me to recall a case from early in our tenure at Oakhurst. One of our Black church member’s sons – I’ll call him Sam - was accused of manslaughter in the death of a friend.  Sam had significant learning disabilities, and the police had coerced a confession out of him, after 15 straight hours of questioning - without an attorney, of course.   Through Christine, Hank volunteered to be the pro bono attorney for Sam.  We talked with the church member and Hank about the case, and he felt certain that he could have the confession disqualified because of the learning disabilities and because no attorney was present.  

    He began to work on the case, but in the meantime, the church member decided to hire a white attorney because she did not feel that a Black attorney could provide adequate representation for her son.  We tried to talk her out of this because she did not have money, and because Hank was an outstanding attorney. We were all dismayed to learn that she hired the white attorney.  The white attorney decided to have Sam plead guilty to manslaughter, and Sam was sentenced to 30 years for a  crime with no evidence against him except for his illegal confession.  I have always been grateful to Hank for his willingness to take this case and always dismayed at the mother’s internalized oppression, which told her that an incompetent white attorney was more qualified to represent her son than a highly competent and passionate Black attorney.

    We were so glad to see our family in DC and to have time to be together in one place, especially after David’s year-long sabbatical in Italy.  We toured many museums on the National Mall in DC – the National Library of Congress, the African-American Museum (the best museum in the country in my opinion), the Museum of the American Indian, the Museum of American History, the Hirschhorn Art Museum.  Emma also gave us a tour of the Capitol (though thanks to the January 6 insurrection, the Senate and House chambers were closed to the public), and of offices of Congress, including Hank’s.  

    We felt a special throb as we walked past the entrance to Speaker Nancy Pelosi’s office!  We had a great visit with the remaining skeleton staff in Hank’s office, especially one of his assistants Antwoin Manoch.  I have been to DC at least 10 times – the first time getting tear-gassed at a demonstration against the Vietnam War in May, 1970, after the killing of the Kent State students – and every time I get a sense of being in a special place.  Especially as we saw the Capitol come into view this time, I felt a strong appreciation for our democracy. 

     Thinking about the January 6 insurrection 18 months ago and seeing that space now.  Thinking about how close we came to the end of democracy then and how close we still might be to that disastrous end.  Thinking about the FBI Mar-a-Lago search and the suspicion of espionage by the former president (a search that happened at the first of our week in DC).  Thinking about how important the January 6 hearings are.  Thinking about the super importance of the November elections.  And thinking that the most recent attack on the Capitol early Sunday morning was only a few blocks from where we were staying.  Seeing the physical localities of these American institutions up close and personal stimulated all kinds of thoughts and feelings for me.  I am grateful for the opportunity to be with our family, and I am grateful for the opportunity to experience the presence of our democratic institutions.  The next few months are crucial to us all – find your place and time to be a witness for justice and equity. 

FIGHT THE FADE

 “FIGHT THE FADE”

Getting unexpected good news today

I raised my heart and hands in gratitude

Loving that good news, loving that elation

I’d love for it to linger longer

That feeling of Yes

And linger it will 

     for awhile.

Even before the sun set,

Feeling the fading,

Old grumbling returning

Gratitude shrinking

Pettiness rising

What is it about me?

What is it about us?

Why wouldn’t I choose

To stay in the land of Thank You

Why does my spirit (and body) 

Bend towards grumpiness?

No, it’s not the fading of the light,

That ancient and ever contemporary story 

Of the epic scale and fail

It’s rather the mere and more mundane

Daily fight against the fading

Fading of Thank You, 

Fading of attitude of gratitude

I’d be grateful to find that place –

Take me there –

That daily noticing of the birds and the bees

That taking time to say Yes

To send up praises at dawn and dusk.

Nibs Stroupe August 6, 2022

"THE FOURTEENTH AMENDMENT - DO WE BELIEVE IN EQUALITY OR NOT?"

 “THE FOURTEENTH AMENDMENT - DO WE BELIEVE IN EQUALITY OR NOT?”

All of my forebears come from Mississippi, and some of my cousins still live there in northwest Mississippi.  Though I was born in Memphis (the capital of northwest Mississippi, east Arkansas and west Tennessee) and raised on the Arkansas side of the Mississippi River, the roots of that state run deep in me.  

    For Father’s Day, our son David gave me “The Movement Made Us” by Davidson grad David Dennis.  It is a memoir-type book of Dennis’ father’s extensive work as a Freedom Rider and as a civil rights organizer, with the main focus being the work in Mississippi.  Daughter Susan gave me the book “Gathering Blossoms Under Fire – the Journals of Alice Walker,” edited by Valerie Boyd.  The early part of those journals are about Walker’s time in Mississippi in the civil rights movement – there she met her husband Mel and experienced the horrific and crushing racism and sexism of white, male supremacy.  These books are bringing back many memories and feelings about Mississippi and about my heritage.

In this sense it is no surprise that the SCOTUS decision in the Dobbs case that struck down Roe v. Wade comes out of Mississippi, as the white, male supremacy seeks to reassert itself to push down the humanity of women.  We are once again in the middle of the main question of American history:  do we believe in the idea of equality or not?  The recent SCOTUS decision in Dobbs and other cases tells me that SCOTUS may be returning to its stance in the 1890’s, when the idea of equality was overtly denied again.  We will need to count on the voice of the 14th Amendment to find a way to pull us out of the morass into which we seem to be sinking.  May more Thurgood Marshalls and Ruth Bader Ginsburgs arise in our midst! 

    There is one other area in which the 14th Amendment becomes even more contemporary for us.  Section 3 of that Amendment sought to deal with former Confederate officers who sought to become members of Congress after their states were re-admitted to the Union.  Here is text of Section 3: 

    “No person shall be a Senator or Representative in Congress, or elector of President and Vice-President, or hold any office, civil or military, under the United States, or under any State, who, having previously taken an oath, as a member of Congress, or as an officer of the United States, or as a member of any State legislature, or as an executive or judicial officer of any State, to support the Constitution of the United States, shall have engaged in insurrection or rebellion against the same, or given aid or comfort to the enemies thereof. But Congress may by a vote of two-thirds of each House, remove such disability.”

    In light of the January 6 House Select Committee Hearings on the deep involvement of Donald Trump in the violent attempt to overthrow the certified and legitimate results of the 2020 elections, it seems clear that this Section 3 of the 14th Amendment applies to him.  Before the House impeached Trump for a second time in February, 2021, they considered using the 14th Amendment to disqualify Trump from holding elected office again.  They decided to go the impeachment route, partly because they did not have enough people willing to talk publicly about Trump’s involvement.

    That has now changed, and it is time now for Congress to act on this and disqualify Trump from running for office again.  Section 5 of the 14th Amendment empowers Congress to enforce its provisions, and thus the current Congress could act before the end of this year to do this.  It would take only a majority vote of both the House and the Senate to do this.  In the current House, its passage is a given.  In the Senate, it would be up to Manchin and Sinema, although some Republicans like Collins and Murkowski and even Mitch McConnell might vote for it.  The Senate might even break the filibuster to accomplish this.  The sweet part of this is that once it passes, it would take a two-thirds vote of each house of Congress to overturn it, which would not be attainable.  I want the Justice Department to prosecute Trump on his actions, but this would be in addition to, or even an alternative to, such a prosecution.  Barring Trump from any future elected office would not end Trumpism, which is the latest manifestation of the “Mississippi Plan” of the 1890’s, but it would send a message to us all about the consequences of such seditious behavior.

"THE FOURTEENTH AMENDMENT"

 “THE FOURTEENTH AMENDMENT”

This has been quite a month in my vacation and Covid-filled absence from the weekly blog.  Caroline and I are both recovering from Covid, but we only had “milder” symptoms like a bad cold.  As I return to blogging, I am aware of how relevant the 14th Amendment is in our current political climate.  So, I am revising and reprising one of my blogs from 2018 on the 150th anniversary of the 14th Amendment.  This week’s blog is on the continuing power, relevance and struggle over the 14th Amendment.  Next week’s blog will be on the 14th Amendment, the Dobbs decision, and Donald Trump.

    July 28 marks the 154th anniversary of the  adoption of the 14th amendment to the Constitution.  It was ratified on July 9, 1868, and on July 29, Secretary of State William Seward declared that it was officially ratified and now part of the Constitution.  

This amendment is one of the most litigated of the parts of the Constitution because it did four important things.  First, it established the right of citizens to due process in relationship to the government.  Second, it provided equal protection to all citizens.  Third, it established the idea of “birthright” of citizenship – if you are born “here” in USA or our territories, you are automatically an American citizen.  Fourth, it indicated for the first time that state and local governments were subject to these first three steps.  

This 14th Amendment has had a difficult time in American history.    Even while it was being ratified, white Southerners were working to undercut it, and indeed we did undercut it through a reign of terror and legislative manipulation.  It would take almost 100 years before it would gain even a minimal force of law through the Civil Rights Acts and the Voting Rights Acts of 1964-65.   In a terrible but not surprising decision in 2013, the US Supreme Court gutted the Voting Rights Act by taking out its “special” enforcement status for those states whose history indicated an unwillingness to adhere to the 14th Amendment.  It should be no surprise that decision (Shelby v. U.S.) came out of the state of Alabama, a state as Martin Luther King, Jr., said in his 1963 speech: “with its governor having his lips dripping with the words of interposition and nullification.”

This struggle over the 14th Amendment is so great because, in many ways, it is the crux on which the American experiment  and indeed the idea of constitutional government hinges – it always seems to be hanging in the balance.  Do we believe in the idea of equality or not?  Our history says “no,” for the most part, but the 14th Amendment is among our better angels, urging us to say “yes.”  Many of our leaders have understood the importance and the meaning of this Amendment.  Thurgood Marshall was one who understood it, and he put it this way in his Bicentennial speech in 1987:  “While the Union survived the Civil War, the Constitution did not.  In its place arose a new, more promising basis for justice and equality, the 14th Amendment….guaranteeing equal protection of the laws.”

Marshall correctly understood that the intent of the Constitution in its beginning was to keep power in the hands of white men of property, and so there was no mention of the full humanity of women or of people of African descent or Native Americans.  Yet, the idea of equality was so powerful and so electric, that the white men of property could not confine it to themselves.  Women heard their names called.  African-Americans heard their names called.  Native Americans heard their names called.  Latinx Americans heard their names called.  Asian-Americans heard their names called.  Poor people heard their names called.  LGBTQ people heard their names called.  The power of the 14th Amendment is to speak to all of us:  the power of the idea of equality is calling to us all.  That is one of the great things that we should remember as we celebrate this powerful amendment to the Constitution.

  It is not just progressives who have understood the meaning of this 14th Amendment.  Regressives have understood it too.  That’s why the fight over the 14th Amendment continues.  Those who speak of being “originalists” over the authority of the Constitution are seeking to take us back to the days of the origins of the Constitution, when white men of property were seen as those entitled to power.   There is a lot of talk these days about the changing demographics in America, with young people and people of color becoming the majority in the USA sooner than many of us realize.   Some progressives have hopes in this demographic change, and I have hopes too.  Yet, we should realize that old white men (and women, it seems, since the majority of them voted for Trump) will not yield this power easily, if we yield it at all.  Limits on voting rights, purging voter rolls, overt gerrymandering – all designed to take us back to the original Constitution.  And, now the Supreme Court seems to taking a hard turn towards this regressive status, so perhaps a Dred Scott decision or a Plessy decision awaits us in the near future.

So, let us give thanks for those who worked so hard for this amendment and others to follow.  Take time this week to read the 14th Amendment – our very lives as a nation may depend on our ability to believe and to live it.  Then, while you still can, make sure that you are registered to vote and that all your friends, neighbors and colleagues are registered to vote – these November elections will tell us if we are moving with the 14th Amendment or against it.