Thoughts on History

Sitting in class tonight (a very interesting survey class about African American History), points were made that has left me pondering identity. The professor, in response to complaints about difficulties in reading the text, suggested imaging yourself in the situation you are reading about. So if you are reading about slavery in the Chesapeake in 1800 and you find yourself drifting off or making your grocery list, imagine what life would have been like for YOU during that time period.



In thinking about slavery in Tennessee in say, the 1840s, I would like to think I would have been quietly subversive, quick to see the terrible immorality in the system. Surely, I think, I would have known how soul-destroying slavery is and what have stood up for right, for abolition, for equality.



And then I think, why would I have done that? In placing myself in 1840, I have to realize that I would not be the person I am today in 2009. I would not have attended public schools with other races and faiths. I may not have been formally educated past an elementary level. I would not have gone to a couple of inner-city schools, seeing first hand some of the endemic poverty of the area. I may not have been raised to believe that I have a voice, a viewpoint worth considering. So would I have been subversive? To my great regret, I do not know if I would have.



Consider the cost of speaking out. Social shunning, economic consequences are just a few of the costs. In addition, I may not have been raised to believe that all people (and not just all white people) are equal. So in the face of loss of social standing (not just from the community but from family), what would I have done? Looking deep in the recesses of my soul, in the spots where I try to keep everyone, even Christ, out of, I see something that makes me tremble. I may have been silent.



I fear I would have been silent if I had children. I love my children deeply, and can not imagine doing something that may harm them. I love my husband to bits, but would I do something that may damage his career?



I don't know definitely what I would have done, and I never can know. I was not raised in the 1800s, but now, so I can never truly place myself in that situation. The exercise does show me that I am weaker than I thought, and that I fervently hope I am never placed in such a situation.

My thoughts before I go to bed are a bit blue, a bit grim. Humanity seems to call for me to speak out for the oppressed, for the voiceless. But life, and a love of the life I lead, intervenes, and I ponder whether I have the courage to be the woman I feel God calls me to be. I pray that I find the courage and the conviction to always speak out for the forgotten, to draw attention to sin, and to always do what is right.