Grief and resilience of a people seeking themselves
By Imani Perry |
July 1, 2012, Sunday
|
Print Edition
Print Edition
"WHO are your people?" It's a question exchanged often by black Southerners to identify kith and kin. But few remember that its roots can be traced to the aftermath of the Civil War. Once emancipated, former slaves desperately searched for family members who had been sold away from them. Their plaintive entreaty - "Help me to find my people" - provides the title and the subject of Heather Andrea Williams' latest book.
An associate professor of history at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill, Williams examines the historical fact of family separation and renders its emotional truth. She is the rare scholar who writes history with such tenderness that her words can bring a reader to tears. The stories aren't easy to bear. Delia Garlic, a freedwoman, recalls: "Babies was snatched from their mothers' breasts and sold to speculators. Children was separated from sisters and brothers and never saw each other again. Course they cry; you think they not cry when they was sold like cattle? I could tell you about it all day, but even then you couldn't guess the awfulness of it."
Consistent with the unevenness of information about the poor and the marginal, the book presents more vignettes than long-form stories. Yet with each chapter the suppleness of Williams' prose grows.
She observes that among the enslaved there were distinct ways of coping with the constant threat of loss, and of living with the grief of permanent separation. Some whites embraced the fiction that black people lacked the capacity to feel deeply, while others simply pretended not to hear the wails.
Williams informs us that one-third of children in the upper South endured family separation, an experience both devastating and disorienting. "The reality of being sold baffled children," she writes.
Williams couples accounts of family disconnection with a judicious use of research on trauma. This interior gaze invites readers to imagine the slave's life: What if a man carrying a whip and a Colt revolver at his waist were to walk off with your mother ... forever?
What if, like Henry Box Brown, you were left to watch from the side of the road, helpless and speechless, as your wife and children departed with their new owner? Like Brown, would you have been compelled to ship yourself to freedom in a 3-by-2-by-2.5-foot wooden box? Williams draws on memoirs, letters, journals, newspapers and fictions to place us inside these harrowing moments.
The bulk of her book is set during slavery. But it reaches an apex: freedom. After Emancipation, a passionate flurry ensued as people searched for their loved ones.
While most of the beloved were lost forever, some were found. Williams shares a few of these stories. Most significant, however, is her revelation of the bonds forged by the collective grief and resilient love of a people finding themselves.
An associate professor of history at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill, Williams examines the historical fact of family separation and renders its emotional truth. She is the rare scholar who writes history with such tenderness that her words can bring a reader to tears. The stories aren't easy to bear. Delia Garlic, a freedwoman, recalls: "Babies was snatched from their mothers' breasts and sold to speculators. Children was separated from sisters and brothers and never saw each other again. Course they cry; you think they not cry when they was sold like cattle? I could tell you about it all day, but even then you couldn't guess the awfulness of it."
Consistent with the unevenness of information about the poor and the marginal, the book presents more vignettes than long-form stories. Yet with each chapter the suppleness of Williams' prose grows.
She observes that among the enslaved there were distinct ways of coping with the constant threat of loss, and of living with the grief of permanent separation. Some whites embraced the fiction that black people lacked the capacity to feel deeply, while others simply pretended not to hear the wails.
Williams informs us that one-third of children in the upper South endured family separation, an experience both devastating and disorienting. "The reality of being sold baffled children," she writes.
Williams couples accounts of family disconnection with a judicious use of research on trauma. This interior gaze invites readers to imagine the slave's life: What if a man carrying a whip and a Colt revolver at his waist were to walk off with your mother ... forever?
What if, like Henry Box Brown, you were left to watch from the side of the road, helpless and speechless, as your wife and children departed with their new owner? Like Brown, would you have been compelled to ship yourself to freedom in a 3-by-2-by-2.5-foot wooden box? Williams draws on memoirs, letters, journals, newspapers and fictions to place us inside these harrowing moments.
The bulk of her book is set during slavery. But it reaches an apex: freedom. After Emancipation, a passionate flurry ensued as people searched for their loved ones.
While most of the beloved were lost forever, some were found. Williams shares a few of these stories. Most significant, however, is her revelation of the bonds forged by the collective grief and resilient love of a people finding themselves.
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