McMusing: Reflection on Juneteenth and the 70th Anniversary of Brown v. Board of Education Supreme Court Decision
My family heritage compels me to deeply understand all of our nation's history.
Last Tuesday I attended a virtual discussion acknowledging the 70th anniversary of the landmark decision Brown vs. the Board of Education with Dr. Tracy Benson and Ingrid Cockhren, M.Ed. on the complex consequences of de-segregating America's schools. Topics included racial bullying, the impact of de-segregation on Black educators and the Black community, and racial disparities in educational outcomes.
I am always on the hunt for opportunities like this because I cannot understand the perspectives and lives of my Black neighbors unless I sit in a room and listen to them. Years ago I walked through the Monroe Elementary School National Historic Landmark displays in Topeka but that experience barely touched on the insights I gained yesterday.
There is so much more to understand despite diligently working to understand all the ramifications of de-segregating schools since I was a young adult looking into the faces of Black children on buses headed back home on the Los Angeles freeways during rush hour. That image of entire buses filled with Black children who should have been home and playing outside has never left me. My intuition that integration policies might be doing more harm than good was given a solid foundation in the virtual discussion.
Last weekend while spending time with a cousin we discussed coming to terms with our Jenkins heritage that includes slave owners. In Trauma in the Pews, I shared the following:
“Family lore says that my great-great-grandfather, who lived in Virginia, released his slaves at the beginning of the Civil War and went to fight for the Union Army. I hope that story is true, but it doesn’t change the fact that my ‘God-fearing’ family may have owned the ancestors of those who now carry the generational trauma of slavery. It is a historical fact that many slave owners who attended church also abused their slaves. It is a neuroscientific fact that trauma carries on from one generation to another through the epigenetic process. The trauma of slavery is still living within the descendants of slaves.”
During a college days “ride with a cop” experience, I was assigned to ride with a Black officer who shared my then last name, Jenkins. That was an important moment in my young life as the connection seemed so evident. I have always believed that it is my responsibility to understand the complex history of slavery in our country.
As I visited National Landmarks across the United States, I became increasingly aware of various thriving Black communities that existed at one point and were destroyed. The destruction of one of these communities, the Greenwood District in Tulsa, OK only recently received the more widespread attention it deserved—and was correctly named a massacre—not a riot.
“As many as 300 Black people were killed, more than 1,200 homes, businesses, school and churches were destroyed, and thousands of survivors were forced for a time into internment camps overseen by the National Guard. Burned bricks and a fragment of a church basement are about all that remain today of the more than 30-block historically Black district.” (Read more about the last two living survivors—ages 109 and 110 whose lawsuit was dismissed last week on technical grounds.)
The best I can do is keep learning. So, on Wednesday, which was Juneteenth, I watched the PBS documentary, Juneteenth: Faith and Freedom. I cannot recommend watching this documentary enough. I realized I had somehow completely missed so much about the significance of this national holiday. (Some of the rabbit trails I followed while watching the documentary are included in the resources below.)
I have often wondered at how emancipated slaves remained faithful to their oppressor’s faith. In a very real sense, they did not. They understood that what Jesus proclaimed was not about the powerful, but the marginalized. It was about liberation and the equality of all people. What was being done was not of God. That God desired that they would be liberated—a theme evident in the Bible! (See note about the slave bible below.)
Speaking in the documentary, Lisa Fields states, “You know, they always had these secret churches that they would go to outside of what their slave master provided. And it's like, we wanna build a space that lets us worship the god who liberates us fully as ourselves without being told this view of God that's not true to scripture.” (Lisa Fields, Founder: Jude 3 Project)
There is so much more for us to understand. We must not fall into the trap of supporting those who are attempting to erase the truth of our nation’s history. We can hold both the good and the harmful. I taught college students in colleges where many had graduated from Christian schools. It was eye-opening to realize how one-sided their understanding of the history of our country was.
I read The Story of Ruby Bridges every year to class after class of Children’s Literature students who did not recognize the name of the child and knew nothing of what she experienced—or the teacher who stood her ground against the racism and helped Ruby be brave. (Ruby Bridges and I are close to the same age—you can read more here about attempts to ban her book.)
I am still learning and am grateful for my Black friends, former students, and colleagues who have accepted and loved me even though I often speak when I should be listening, say ridiculous "white things" that make it clear that I have no idea what it means to be Black in America, and sometimes act out of uninformed good intentions that glaringly miss the mark. We can all do better.
My family (Carter) came to the colony of Virginia around 1650. There were 5 Carter's who came -- not all of them related. Many of them grew tobacco on large plantations which used slave labor. Our descendants had a few domestic slaves, as was all too common, sadly.
Growing up in Grand Rapids, Michigan, much of my school experience was with 60% white and 40% black students...with only a handful of black teachers. I still remember Mr. Poole, who was a student teacher during 10th grade. He was awesome...but the experience I will never forget is the first day roll call. There was almost always another Carter in my class, but they were always black. So the teacher would call the first name, and then see there was another Carter...and before looking up, would ask: "...oh, are you related?"... only to see the obvious. It was always a difficult moment. Lord have mercy...😔
I am sorry the radicals has stolen the truth of the word "woke" -- it's so fundamental to the black experience of always having to be aware of the ever present danger in their surroundings. That constant sentry mode is one thread of the epigenetic transmission of the trauma of slavery... they've been robbed of a sense of safety that many take for granted.
Lord have mercy 🙏 😞🙏
So. Much. Trauma... everywhere 😭