Jim Remsen's Blog: The Slave as "Crushed Vegetable'', page 4
April 8, 2015
Reclaiming the Wyalusing cliffs
One of the most gorgeous spots in Pennsylvania is the Wyalusing Rocks overlook. Looming high above the upper Susquehanna River, it offers a breathtaking vista of the winding river and its broad alluvial plain. As a boy from that Northeastern Pennsylvania region, I remember going there with my parents and beholding the view in awe. Wouldn�t you know, in my historical novel Visions of Teaoga, my modern young protagonist and her dad pull over at Wyalusing to absorb the historical setting before them.
Go to Wyalusing today and, mixed among the roadside tourists, you may find Native Americans, there to pray and pay their respects. They know that this was far more than a lovely overlook. It was a strategically important sentry post, a site of tribal councils, and sacred ground. Fifteen years ago, the Eastern Delaware Nations coalition managed to buy 14 acres of the cliffs, and one of the group�s chiefs, John Taffe, tells me seekers of all ages go there to conduct traditional vision quests.
Wyalusing has been on my mind because I�ll be traveling to the nearby Wyalusing Public Library to give an author talk this Saturday at 1 p.m. I�ll tell folks how their area fits into the book�not only with my modern girl protagonist but more importantly with my historical protagonist. This was the real-life native matriarch known to white settlers as Queen Esther.
During the 1700s, Esther and her people roamed up and down the Susquehanna�s north branch, seeking safe ground during repeated conflicts with the Europeans. According to the historical record, Esther was a peacemaker for much of her life and an admirer of the Moravian Christian missionaries who established an Indian �prayer town� on the river flats south of the Wyalusing Rocks. Though she did not convert, three of her children did, changing their names and identities in the process.
Over time, the pacifist Moravians were rejected by many native and white leaders. In the early 1770s, under increasing pressure, the Moravians abandoned their Wyalusing mission, known as Friedenshutten, and headed west. Esther never saw her three children again. During the Revolutionary War several years later, native war parties allied with the British attacked patriot settlers across that region. As the settlers fled south, many headed downriver on rafts made of timber salvaged from the abandoned Friedenshutten buildings.
As readers of Visions of Teaoga learn, Esther was married to a war chief of the Munsee Delaware clan. The Munsees had been ousted from their heartland in the Pocono Mountains in the mid-1700s and forced west to the Susquehanna valley.
Today, the Munsees are one of the main constituencies of the reconstituted Eastern Delaware Nations. The EDN�s other tribes are the Nanticoke, the Lenni-Lenape, the Conoy, the Susquehannock, the Shawnee (Esther�s tribe), the Sicannasee, the Wiccomiko, the Mohican, the Umlatchgo, the Conestoga, and the Alleghany. To increase its knowledge base, Mr. Taffe said, the EDN has worked closely with Delaware tribal leaders from the Moraviantown reserve in Ontario.
The EDN formed thirty years and gained nonprofit status in 1993. However, according to its website, www.easterndelawarenations.org, it has never been recognized as a tribe by Pennsylvania or the federal government. �Although the government official stand is that 'no Indians stayed in Pennsylvania,' our ancestors did stay and we are still here!� the coalition declares. In recent years the EDN has conducted public outreach, with achievements including August �Native American Awareness Month� events, school presentations, a mural, and a popular powwow each June in Forksville, Pa. (which I hope to join this year!).
Mr. Taffe, who calls himself a EDN subchief, says the initial plan to build a cultural center right across the highway from the Wyalusing overlook fell through when money dried up in recent years. Instead, the group purchased a former grange building in nearby Wilmot, where meetings and events are held. One of those events, he said, is an occasional series of Munsee-dialect classes conducted by his daughter, Susan Taffe Reed, who teaches at Bowdoin College--and is the Eastern Delaware Nations� current chief.
Let�s hope EDN stays strong and continues to spread the word about Pennsylvania�s native past and present.
Go to Wyalusing today and, mixed among the roadside tourists, you may find Native Americans, there to pray and pay their respects. They know that this was far more than a lovely overlook. It was a strategically important sentry post, a site of tribal councils, and sacred ground. Fifteen years ago, the Eastern Delaware Nations coalition managed to buy 14 acres of the cliffs, and one of the group�s chiefs, John Taffe, tells me seekers of all ages go there to conduct traditional vision quests.
Wyalusing has been on my mind because I�ll be traveling to the nearby Wyalusing Public Library to give an author talk this Saturday at 1 p.m. I�ll tell folks how their area fits into the book�not only with my modern girl protagonist but more importantly with my historical protagonist. This was the real-life native matriarch known to white settlers as Queen Esther.
During the 1700s, Esther and her people roamed up and down the Susquehanna�s north branch, seeking safe ground during repeated conflicts with the Europeans. According to the historical record, Esther was a peacemaker for much of her life and an admirer of the Moravian Christian missionaries who established an Indian �prayer town� on the river flats south of the Wyalusing Rocks. Though she did not convert, three of her children did, changing their names and identities in the process.
Over time, the pacifist Moravians were rejected by many native and white leaders. In the early 1770s, under increasing pressure, the Moravians abandoned their Wyalusing mission, known as Friedenshutten, and headed west. Esther never saw her three children again. During the Revolutionary War several years later, native war parties allied with the British attacked patriot settlers across that region. As the settlers fled south, many headed downriver on rafts made of timber salvaged from the abandoned Friedenshutten buildings.
As readers of Visions of Teaoga learn, Esther was married to a war chief of the Munsee Delaware clan. The Munsees had been ousted from their heartland in the Pocono Mountains in the mid-1700s and forced west to the Susquehanna valley.
Today, the Munsees are one of the main constituencies of the reconstituted Eastern Delaware Nations. The EDN�s other tribes are the Nanticoke, the Lenni-Lenape, the Conoy, the Susquehannock, the Shawnee (Esther�s tribe), the Sicannasee, the Wiccomiko, the Mohican, the Umlatchgo, the Conestoga, and the Alleghany. To increase its knowledge base, Mr. Taffe said, the EDN has worked closely with Delaware tribal leaders from the Moraviantown reserve in Ontario.
The EDN formed thirty years and gained nonprofit status in 1993. However, according to its website, www.easterndelawarenations.org, it has never been recognized as a tribe by Pennsylvania or the federal government. �Although the government official stand is that 'no Indians stayed in Pennsylvania,' our ancestors did stay and we are still here!� the coalition declares. In recent years the EDN has conducted public outreach, with achievements including August �Native American Awareness Month� events, school presentations, a mural, and a popular powwow each June in Forksville, Pa. (which I hope to join this year!).
Mr. Taffe, who calls himself a EDN subchief, says the initial plan to build a cultural center right across the highway from the Wyalusing overlook fell through when money dried up in recent years. Instead, the group purchased a former grange building in nearby Wilmot, where meetings and events are held. One of those events, he said, is an occasional series of Munsee-dialect classes conducted by his daughter, Susan Taffe Reed, who teaches at Bowdoin College--and is the Eastern Delaware Nations� current chief.
Let�s hope EDN stays strong and continues to spread the word about Pennsylvania�s native past and present.
March 27, 2015
Preserving a key Indian site
News flash: The important American Indian village site where the protagonist of my historical novel Visions of Teaoga once ruled is gaining the protection of the national Archaeological Conservancy.
The nonprofit conservancy identifies, acquires, and preserves significant archaeological sites around the country. It has preserved 465 sites thus far – and now is happily adding Queen Esther’s Town in Northeastern Pennsylvania.
After more than a decade of effort, the group said, it recently signed an option to purchase 92 acres of the riverfront site. That will make it the conservancy’s largest preserve in the Eastern U.S.
The archaeologists were exultant. According to the conservancy, the site “contains the heart of Queen Esther’s Town, a very significant sprawling series of contact period villages.” It said the floodplain where the Susquehanna and Chemung Rivers meet “has staggering research potential for future scholars” not only because of Esther’s 1700s native village but also the centuries of prior habitation there.
White settler accounts say Queen Esther’s Town – also known as Queen Esther’s Village or Esthertown – contained about seventy “rude houses.” Readers of Visions of Teaoga learn how the Shawnee matriarch Esther led the mixed village from her large home, which whites called Queen Esther’s Castle. One account says her home “was long and low, built of hewn logs and planks, neatly done, with a porch over the doorway, and surrounded by a number of other buildings.” Her people planted crops and herded cattle on the broad plain, until the village was burned by Continental soldiers in 1778 because of the natives’ alliance with the British.
The conservancy says the preserve contains five recorded archeological sites, and “probably many more. Ceramic shards provide evidence of extensive occupations of Owasco cultures between about A.D. 900-1300. And even earlier occupations are indicated by temporally diagnostic projectile points dating to the Transitional (1200-1800 B.C.) and Archaic (1800-8000 B.C.) periods.”
This news came to me by way of an Onondaga Indian gentleman, Mitchell Bush, who purchased a copy of my book several weeks ago. Mr. Bush received a mailing from the conservancy about the Queen Esther’s Town purchase option, and kindly reached out to let me know. You can find more about it at the website archaeologicalconservancy.org and in the Spring 2105 issue of American Archaeology.
In confirming the news and doing some online research, I also came upon references to skeletons of “giants” unearthed at the site that were believed to be the remains of long-gone Susquehannocks (also known variously as Andastes, Conestogas or Minquas). In his 1943 History of Waverly (N.Y.), Capt Charles Albertson wrote, “The Broadhead expedition in the summer of 1916 secured the skeletons of several of this people on Queen Esther's Flats near the public highway leading to Towanda about 1/2 mile west of the Chemung river Bridge at Athens; many or all of these remains indicated that they were about seven feet in height.”
As you may know, that region of upstate Pennsylvania has undergone rapid change and development as a result of the natural-gas drilling boom. Let’s hope the Queen Esther’s Town site and its precious artifacts receive the protection and respect they deserve.
The nonprofit conservancy identifies, acquires, and preserves significant archaeological sites around the country. It has preserved 465 sites thus far – and now is happily adding Queen Esther’s Town in Northeastern Pennsylvania.
After more than a decade of effort, the group said, it recently signed an option to purchase 92 acres of the riverfront site. That will make it the conservancy’s largest preserve in the Eastern U.S.
The archaeologists were exultant. According to the conservancy, the site “contains the heart of Queen Esther’s Town, a very significant sprawling series of contact period villages.” It said the floodplain where the Susquehanna and Chemung Rivers meet “has staggering research potential for future scholars” not only because of Esther’s 1700s native village but also the centuries of prior habitation there.
White settler accounts say Queen Esther’s Town – also known as Queen Esther’s Village or Esthertown – contained about seventy “rude houses.” Readers of Visions of Teaoga learn how the Shawnee matriarch Esther led the mixed village from her large home, which whites called Queen Esther’s Castle. One account says her home “was long and low, built of hewn logs and planks, neatly done, with a porch over the doorway, and surrounded by a number of other buildings.” Her people planted crops and herded cattle on the broad plain, until the village was burned by Continental soldiers in 1778 because of the natives’ alliance with the British.
The conservancy says the preserve contains five recorded archeological sites, and “probably many more. Ceramic shards provide evidence of extensive occupations of Owasco cultures between about A.D. 900-1300. And even earlier occupations are indicated by temporally diagnostic projectile points dating to the Transitional (1200-1800 B.C.) and Archaic (1800-8000 B.C.) periods.”
This news came to me by way of an Onondaga Indian gentleman, Mitchell Bush, who purchased a copy of my book several weeks ago. Mr. Bush received a mailing from the conservancy about the Queen Esther’s Town purchase option, and kindly reached out to let me know. You can find more about it at the website archaeologicalconservancy.org and in the Spring 2105 issue of American Archaeology.
In confirming the news and doing some online research, I also came upon references to skeletons of “giants” unearthed at the site that were believed to be the remains of long-gone Susquehannocks (also known variously as Andastes, Conestogas or Minquas). In his 1943 History of Waverly (N.Y.), Capt Charles Albertson wrote, “The Broadhead expedition in the summer of 1916 secured the skeletons of several of this people on Queen Esther's Flats near the public highway leading to Towanda about 1/2 mile west of the Chemung river Bridge at Athens; many or all of these remains indicated that they were about seven feet in height.”
As you may know, that region of upstate Pennsylvania has undergone rapid change and development as a result of the natural-gas drilling boom. Let’s hope the Queen Esther’s Town site and its precious artifacts receive the protection and respect they deserve.
March 26, 2015
Preserving Queen Esther's Town
The riverfront site, on the far shore, is going to be protected by the Archaeological Conservancy.
News flash: The important American Indian village site where the protagonist of my historical novel Visions of Teaoga once ruled is gaining the protection of the national Archaeological Conservancy.
The nonprofit conservancy identifies, acquires, and preserves significant archaeological sites around the country. It has preserved 465 sites thus far � and now is happily adding Queen Esther�s Town in Northeastern Pennsylvania.
After more than a decade of effort, the group said, it recently signed an option to purchase 92 acres of the riverfront site. That will make it the conservancy�s largest preserve in the Eastern U.S.
The archaeologists were exultant. According to the conservancy, the site �contains the heart of Queen Esther�s Town, a very significant sprawling series of contact period villages.� It said the floodplain where the Susquehanna and Chemung Rivers meet �has staggering research potential for future scholars� not only because of Esther�s 1700s native village but also the centuries of prior habitation there.
White settler accounts say Queen Esther�s Town � also known as Queen Esther�s Village or Esthertown � contained about seventy �rude houses.� Readers of Visions of Teaoga learn how the Shawnee matriarch Esther led the mixed village from her large home, which whites called Queen Esther�s Castle. One account says her home �was long and low, built of hewn logs and planks, neatly done, with a porch over the doorway, and surrounded by a number of other buildings.� Her people planted crops and herded cattle on the broad plain, until the village was burned by Continental soldiers in 1778 because of the natives� alliance with the British.
The conservancy says the preserve contains five recorded archeological sites, and �probably many more. Ceramic shards provide evidence of extensive occupations of Owasco cultures between about A.D. 900-1300. And even earlier occupations are indicated by temporally diagnostic projectile points dating to the Transitional (1200-1800 B.C.) and Archaic (1800-8000 B.C.) periods.�
This news came to me by way of an Onondaga Indian gentleman, Mitchell Bush, who purchased a copy of my book several weeks ago. Mr. Bush received a mailing from the conservancy about the Queen Esther�s Town purchase option, and kindly reached out to let me know. You can find more about it at the website archaeologicalconservancy.org and in the Spring 2105 issue of American Archaeology.
In confirming the news and doing some online research, I also came upon references to skeletons of �giants� unearthed at the site that were believed to be the remains of long-gone Susquehannocks (also known variously as Andastes, Conestogas or Minquas). In his 1943 History of Waverly (N.Y.), Capt Charles Albertson wrote, �The Broadhead expedition in the summer of 1916 secured the skeletons of several of this people on Queen Esther's Flats near the public highway leading to Towanda about 1/2 mile west of the Chemung river Bridge at Athens; many or all of these remains indicated that they were about seven feet in height.�
As you may know, that region of upstate Pennsylvania has undergone rapid change and development as a result of the natural-gas drilling boom. Let�s hope the Queen Esther�s Town site and its precious artifacts receive the protection and respect they deserve.
March 16, 2015
'Indian-German Commonwealth'
During the colonial era, the Christian group that historians say had the greatest success evangelizing to Native Americans was not the Baptists, nor the Presbyterians, nor the Quakers. It was a group that many people outside Pennsylvania are clueless about � the Moravians.
This German-speaking pacifist sect found refuge from persecution in William Penn�s new colony, establishing the lovely little city of Bethlehem, Pa., as its new base. It turns out I�ll be making an author appearance at the Moravian Book Shop in Bethlehem this Saturday afternoon, March 21, and will happily highlight the Moravian history that runs through my book Visions of Teaoga.
And run through it, it certainly does.
The book�s real-life protagonist, the 18th-century Shawnee matriarch known as Queen Esther, was attracted to the Moravian missionaries and made numerous visits to their �prayer towns� on the Susquehanna River. The record shows that three of her children even converted to Christianity during their time at the Moravian mission known as Friedenschutten.
The Moravians� overall aim was to create a joint community they called Civitas Indiana-Germana, which translates as the �Indian-German Commonwealth.� To do that, their missionaries lived among the Indians as equals, learned their languages, and didn�t push mass conversions. It sounds normal today, but it was radical for the time, and it made them the most successful Indian missionaries in the colonies.
Even Esther�s war-chief husband was intrigued. During his visits to Friedenschutten (present-day Wyalusing, Pa.), he had observed the Moravian blacksmiths repairing Indian muskets, straightening their implements, and making new tools in exchange for furs. He saw how the Moravian discipline � industriousness in the field, mutual support, no liquor � sat well with the Indian converts. So he invited the Moravians into his domain farther upriver, where a satellite mission was established in 1769. In little time, as I write in my book, �the congregants built a chapel with a shingled roof. They planted orchards, laid fences around the fields, set aside Sunday as a day of rest, taught hymns, and gathered the native children for lessons.� The missionaries also introduced the newcomers to wood-plank houses and chimneys � which some enjoyed and others shunned as �an insult to the ancestors.�
Drawing from accounts of Esther�s beliefs, I have her saying this to a circle of Indian women: �For all my time among them, the Moravians held close to their path of peace. I saw how they would soothe anger among our native groups. They would try to feed and comfort captives who passed through. A few times I saw them protect black-skinned slaves who had escaped from their holders. I was weary of conflict, so their manner warmed me deeply.�
Nevertheless, over time Esther�s husband and other war chiefs and sachems grew to distrust the Moravians. They might praise the converts� hard work and sharing, but they were angered by the rules against taking up weapons, against face-painting, against scalp locks. According to the shaman Wagomen �s recorded words, �the converts are useless in war and should be expelled from our tribes. If the Preserver wanted us to live like them, we would have been born among them.�
Many white settlers also disliked the Moravian towns because they were pacifist and would not trade with them nor buy their rum. The mission towns became more and more isolated and under increasing land pressure as swarms of settlers moved ever closer up the Susquehanna.
Soon Esther�s native community relocated farther north � and the Moravians and their converts uprooted themselves and headed overland to Ohio country. What awaited them was more wrath, and the notorious 1782 Gnaddenhutten massacre at the hands of white militiamen.
This German-speaking pacifist sect found refuge from persecution in William Penn�s new colony, establishing the lovely little city of Bethlehem, Pa., as its new base. It turns out I�ll be making an author appearance at the Moravian Book Shop in Bethlehem this Saturday afternoon, March 21, and will happily highlight the Moravian history that runs through my book Visions of Teaoga.
And run through it, it certainly does.
The book�s real-life protagonist, the 18th-century Shawnee matriarch known as Queen Esther, was attracted to the Moravian missionaries and made numerous visits to their �prayer towns� on the Susquehanna River. The record shows that three of her children even converted to Christianity during their time at the Moravian mission known as Friedenschutten.
The Moravians� overall aim was to create a joint community they called Civitas Indiana-Germana, which translates as the �Indian-German Commonwealth.� To do that, their missionaries lived among the Indians as equals, learned their languages, and didn�t push mass conversions. It sounds normal today, but it was radical for the time, and it made them the most successful Indian missionaries in the colonies.
Even Esther�s war-chief husband was intrigued. During his visits to Friedenschutten (present-day Wyalusing, Pa.), he had observed the Moravian blacksmiths repairing Indian muskets, straightening their implements, and making new tools in exchange for furs. He saw how the Moravian discipline � industriousness in the field, mutual support, no liquor � sat well with the Indian converts. So he invited the Moravians into his domain farther upriver, where a satellite mission was established in 1769. In little time, as I write in my book, �the congregants built a chapel with a shingled roof. They planted orchards, laid fences around the fields, set aside Sunday as a day of rest, taught hymns, and gathered the native children for lessons.� The missionaries also introduced the newcomers to wood-plank houses and chimneys � which some enjoyed and others shunned as �an insult to the ancestors.�
Drawing from accounts of Esther�s beliefs, I have her saying this to a circle of Indian women: �For all my time among them, the Moravians held close to their path of peace. I saw how they would soothe anger among our native groups. They would try to feed and comfort captives who passed through. A few times I saw them protect black-skinned slaves who had escaped from their holders. I was weary of conflict, so their manner warmed me deeply.�
Nevertheless, over time Esther�s husband and other war chiefs and sachems grew to distrust the Moravians. They might praise the converts� hard work and sharing, but they were angered by the rules against taking up weapons, against face-painting, against scalp locks. According to the shaman Wagomen �s recorded words, �the converts are useless in war and should be expelled from our tribes. If the Preserver wanted us to live like them, we would have been born among them.�
Many white settlers also disliked the Moravian towns because they were pacifist and would not trade with them nor buy their rum. The mission towns became more and more isolated and under increasing land pressure as swarms of settlers moved ever closer up the Susquehanna.
Soon Esther�s native community relocated farther north � and the Moravians and their converts uprooted themselves and headed overland to Ohio country. What awaited them was more wrath, and the notorious 1782 Gnaddenhutten massacre at the hands of white militiamen.
February 26, 2015
At last, a slavery museum
America finally has a slavery museum. And it�s right in the belly of the beast, rural Louisiana.
But what took long? Our country was founded on two pillars of shame � the enslavement of black people and the dispossession of Native Americans � so why did it take us until 2015 to open a museum focusing on the enormity of what�s been called our �peculiar institution�?
Walter Johnson, a Harvard professor, has a theory about this societal avoidance. �Slavery gets understood as a kind of prehistory to freedom rather than what it really is: the foundation for a country where white supremacy was predicated upon African-American exploitation,� he says. �This is still, in many respects, the America of 2015.�
Johnson is among the people quoted by The New York Times in a Feb. 26 feature story about the new slavery museum. The article walks you through the museum grounds, located on the original Whitney Plantation west of New Orleans. Whitney is far different from other restored sugar plantations in a region where, the Times states, �mint juleps, manicured gardens and hoop skirts are emphasized over the fact that such grandeur was made possible by the enslavement of black human beings.�
At Whitney, the visitor finds not only slave cabins and exhibits but also a series of walls engraved with the names of the 107,000 slaves who lived in Louisiana before 1820. The Times says the memorial �lists the names non-alphabetically to mirror the confusion and chaos that defined a slave�s life.�
The museum is the brainchild of a Louisiana-born white lawyer, John Cummings, 77, who plowed $8 million of his own money unto the project. Was white guilt what motivated him? �If �guilt� is the best word to use, then yes, I feel guilt,� he told The Times. �I mean, you start understanding that the wealth of this part of the world � wealth that has benefited me � was created by some half a million black people who just passed us by. How is it that we don�t acknowledge this?�
Probably the most troubling sight at Whitney will be a pending memorial to the victims of a 1811 slave revolt there. The story goes that at least 125 enslaved people walked off their plantations and marched down the river road toward New Orleans � until white militias stepped in. About 95 protesters were killed � including dozens who were decapitated as a warning to other slaves. Their heads were placed on spikes along the road and in New Orleans� famous Jackson Square.
To memorialize that gruesome action, Cummings hired a sculptor to make 60 ceramic heads, which will be mounted on steel pikes at Whitney. �It is disturbing,� Cummings told The Times. �But you know what else? It happened. It happened right here on this road.�
The news of this ground-breaking museum caught my attention because I�m currently researching a group of fugitive slaves who resettled in my hometown in northeastern Pennsylvania. Next time I�m in New Orleans, I�ll take the 35-mile side trip to the Whitney to absorb its story, learn what I can, and pay my respects.
Consider doing the same. At the least, check out the article in The Times. Here�s a link: http://www.nytimes.com/2015/03/01/mag...#
But what took long? Our country was founded on two pillars of shame � the enslavement of black people and the dispossession of Native Americans � so why did it take us until 2015 to open a museum focusing on the enormity of what�s been called our �peculiar institution�?
Walter Johnson, a Harvard professor, has a theory about this societal avoidance. �Slavery gets understood as a kind of prehistory to freedom rather than what it really is: the foundation for a country where white supremacy was predicated upon African-American exploitation,� he says. �This is still, in many respects, the America of 2015.�
Johnson is among the people quoted by The New York Times in a Feb. 26 feature story about the new slavery museum. The article walks you through the museum grounds, located on the original Whitney Plantation west of New Orleans. Whitney is far different from other restored sugar plantations in a region where, the Times states, �mint juleps, manicured gardens and hoop skirts are emphasized over the fact that such grandeur was made possible by the enslavement of black human beings.�
At Whitney, the visitor finds not only slave cabins and exhibits but also a series of walls engraved with the names of the 107,000 slaves who lived in Louisiana before 1820. The Times says the memorial �lists the names non-alphabetically to mirror the confusion and chaos that defined a slave�s life.�
The museum is the brainchild of a Louisiana-born white lawyer, John Cummings, 77, who plowed $8 million of his own money unto the project. Was white guilt what motivated him? �If �guilt� is the best word to use, then yes, I feel guilt,� he told The Times. �I mean, you start understanding that the wealth of this part of the world � wealth that has benefited me � was created by some half a million black people who just passed us by. How is it that we don�t acknowledge this?�
Probably the most troubling sight at Whitney will be a pending memorial to the victims of a 1811 slave revolt there. The story goes that at least 125 enslaved people walked off their plantations and marched down the river road toward New Orleans � until white militias stepped in. About 95 protesters were killed � including dozens who were decapitated as a warning to other slaves. Their heads were placed on spikes along the road and in New Orleans� famous Jackson Square.
To memorialize that gruesome action, Cummings hired a sculptor to make 60 ceramic heads, which will be mounted on steel pikes at Whitney. �It is disturbing,� Cummings told The Times. �But you know what else? It happened. It happened right here on this road.�
The news of this ground-breaking museum caught my attention because I�m currently researching a group of fugitive slaves who resettled in my hometown in northeastern Pennsylvania. Next time I�m in New Orleans, I�ll take the 35-mile side trip to the Whitney to absorb its story, learn what I can, and pay my respects.
Consider doing the same. At the least, check out the article in The Times. Here�s a link: http://www.nytimes.com/2015/03/01/mag...#
February 13, 2015
Truth-Telling on White Terrorism
One of the most outrageous – and suppressed – parts of our nation’s history is racial lynching. You probably knew that sadistic murders of African Americans happened across the South. Perhaps it was a paragraph in your history textbook about the Jim Crow era. Maybe you stared at one of the gruesome old photos of dangling corpses. But did you know lynching’s full scope, and just how openly and even gleefully it occurred, with impunity for the perpetrators and a bottomless grief and rage for the victims’ terrorized communities?
This month, an intrepid Alabama-based rights group called the Equal Justice Initiative issued a monumental report on lynching that’s designed to grab us all by the lapels. It certainly has lit up social media. In five years of field research, the group amassed an inventory of 3,959 victims of “racial terror lynchings” in 12 Southern states from 1877 to 1950. That’s at least 700 more lynchings in these states than were previously listed.
An essential take-away from the research is that those hangings and burnings were hardly rogue occurrences.
“Lynchings were violent and public events that traumatized black people throughout the country and were largely tolerated by state and federal officials,” the Equal Justice Initiative states. “This was not ‘frontier justice’ carried out by a few marginalized vigilantes or extremists. Instead, many African Americans who were never accused of any crime were tortured and murdered in front of picnicking spectators (including elected officials and prominent citizens) for bumping into a white person, or wearing their military uniforms after World War I, or not using the appropriate title when addressing a white person. People who participated in lynchings were celebrated and acted with impunity. Not a single white person was convicted of murder for lynching a black person in America during this period.”
If you get the New York Times, you might have read the Feb. 10 article about the report. It included a map locating all the lynchings, and noted that the Initiative’s plan to erect public markers -- in a region replete with laudatory Confederate monuments -- “will involve significant fund-raising, negotiations with distrustful landowners and, almost undoubtedly, intense controversy.”
Reading the Times article made me decide to blog about it now, and pivot away from the focus of previous blogs. My 15 earlier posts dealt with American Indian topics, being an outgrowth of my historical novel Visions of Teaoga. Lynching struck a particular nerve because I’ve launched another writing project, on an African American topic this time. It involves my little hometown in Northeastern Pennsylvania, which harbored a settlement of ex-slaves during the Underground Railroad years. A dozen of the town’s black men volunteered for the Union Army and fought in the Civil War. I’ve been researching the men’s unsung lives, including their origins in bondage in the racist South.
The Times article on the lynching report led me to the Equal Justice Initiative’s website and directly to its full report and county-by-county tally of the crimes. Consider scanning the tally youself, at eji.org.
It might reveal that even if you’re not from the South, you’re probably only one step removed from the shadow of lynching. For instance, my dad’s parents lived for years in Georgia, in a county that tallied five lynchings. Three lynchings occurred in the South Carolina county where my nephew lives, another three in the North Carolina county where a cousin lives. Another cousin raised her family in an Arkansas county that tallied one lynching. And who hasn’t vacationed in Miami-Dade County, which experienced six lynchings, or New Orleans, which tallied 13?
Still, some might argue, our modern society has turned the page on lynchings so why dwell on it so much? Here’s how Bryan Stevenson, who heads the Equal Justice Initiative, answers that.
“Lynching profoundly impacted race relations in this country and shaped the contemporary geographic, political, social, and economic conditions of African Americans. Most importantly, lynching reinforced a narrative of racial difference and a legacy of racial inequality that is readily apparent in our criminal justice system today. Mass incarceration, racially biased capital punishment, excessive sentencing, disproportionate sentencing of racial minorities, and police abuse of people of color reveal problems in American society that were shaped by the terror era.”
Indeed, Stevenson argues, many African Americans who joined the Great Migration from the South should be considered refugees fleeing terrorism and not merely seeking work in Northern factories.
“We cannot heal the deep wounds inflicted during the era of racial terrorism until we tell the truth about it,” he says. “The geographic, political, economic, and social consequences of decades of terror lynchings can still be seen in many communities today and the damage created by lynching needs to be confronted and discussed. Only then can we meaningfully address the contemporary problems that are lynching’s legacy.”
In a remarkable postscript, FBI director James B. Comey made a similar point in a Feb. 12 speech about police and prosecutors’ mixed record on racial matters.
“All of us in law enforcement must be honest enough to acknowledge that much of our history is not pretty,” Comey said. “At many points in American history, law enforcement enforced the status quo, a status quo that was often brutally unfair to disfavored groups.”
This month, an intrepid Alabama-based rights group called the Equal Justice Initiative issued a monumental report on lynching that’s designed to grab us all by the lapels. It certainly has lit up social media. In five years of field research, the group amassed an inventory of 3,959 victims of “racial terror lynchings” in 12 Southern states from 1877 to 1950. That’s at least 700 more lynchings in these states than were previously listed.
An essential take-away from the research is that those hangings and burnings were hardly rogue occurrences.
“Lynchings were violent and public events that traumatized black people throughout the country and were largely tolerated by state and federal officials,” the Equal Justice Initiative states. “This was not ‘frontier justice’ carried out by a few marginalized vigilantes or extremists. Instead, many African Americans who were never accused of any crime were tortured and murdered in front of picnicking spectators (including elected officials and prominent citizens) for bumping into a white person, or wearing their military uniforms after World War I, or not using the appropriate title when addressing a white person. People who participated in lynchings were celebrated and acted with impunity. Not a single white person was convicted of murder for lynching a black person in America during this period.”
If you get the New York Times, you might have read the Feb. 10 article about the report. It included a map locating all the lynchings, and noted that the Initiative’s plan to erect public markers -- in a region replete with laudatory Confederate monuments -- “will involve significant fund-raising, negotiations with distrustful landowners and, almost undoubtedly, intense controversy.”
Reading the Times article made me decide to blog about it now, and pivot away from the focus of previous blogs. My 15 earlier posts dealt with American Indian topics, being an outgrowth of my historical novel Visions of Teaoga. Lynching struck a particular nerve because I’ve launched another writing project, on an African American topic this time. It involves my little hometown in Northeastern Pennsylvania, which harbored a settlement of ex-slaves during the Underground Railroad years. A dozen of the town’s black men volunteered for the Union Army and fought in the Civil War. I’ve been researching the men’s unsung lives, including their origins in bondage in the racist South.
The Times article on the lynching report led me to the Equal Justice Initiative’s website and directly to its full report and county-by-county tally of the crimes. Consider scanning the tally youself, at eji.org.
It might reveal that even if you’re not from the South, you’re probably only one step removed from the shadow of lynching. For instance, my dad’s parents lived for years in Georgia, in a county that tallied five lynchings. Three lynchings occurred in the South Carolina county where my nephew lives, another three in the North Carolina county where a cousin lives. Another cousin raised her family in an Arkansas county that tallied one lynching. And who hasn’t vacationed in Miami-Dade County, which experienced six lynchings, or New Orleans, which tallied 13?
Still, some might argue, our modern society has turned the page on lynchings so why dwell on it so much? Here’s how Bryan Stevenson, who heads the Equal Justice Initiative, answers that.
“Lynching profoundly impacted race relations in this country and shaped the contemporary geographic, political, social, and economic conditions of African Americans. Most importantly, lynching reinforced a narrative of racial difference and a legacy of racial inequality that is readily apparent in our criminal justice system today. Mass incarceration, racially biased capital punishment, excessive sentencing, disproportionate sentencing of racial minorities, and police abuse of people of color reveal problems in American society that were shaped by the terror era.”
Indeed, Stevenson argues, many African Americans who joined the Great Migration from the South should be considered refugees fleeing terrorism and not merely seeking work in Northern factories.
“We cannot heal the deep wounds inflicted during the era of racial terrorism until we tell the truth about it,” he says. “The geographic, political, economic, and social consequences of decades of terror lynchings can still be seen in many communities today and the damage created by lynching needs to be confronted and discussed. Only then can we meaningfully address the contemporary problems that are lynching’s legacy.”
In a remarkable postscript, FBI director James B. Comey made a similar point in a Feb. 12 speech about police and prosecutors’ mixed record on racial matters.
“All of us in law enforcement must be honest enough to acknowledge that much of our history is not pretty,” Comey said. “At many points in American history, law enforcement enforced the status quo, a status quo that was often brutally unfair to disfavored groups.”
February 12, 2015
Truth-Telling on White Terrorism
One of the most outrageous � and suppressed � parts of our nation�s history is racial lynching. You probably knew that sadistic murders of African Americans happened across the South. Perhaps it was a paragraph in your history textbook about the Jim Crow era. Maybe you stared at one of the gruesome old photos of dangling corpses. But did you know lynching�s full scope, and just how openly and even gleefully it occurred, with impunity for the perpetrators and a bottomless grief and rage for the victims� terrorized communities?
This month, an intrepid Alabama-based rights group called the Equal Justice Initiative issued a monumental report on lynching that�s designed to grab us all by the lapels. It certainly has lit up social media. In five years of field research, the group amassed an inventory of 3,959 victims of �racial terror lynchings� in 12 Southern states from 1877 to 1950. That�s at least 700 more lynchings in these states than were previously listed.
An essential take-away from the research is that those hangings and burnings were hardly rogue occurrences.
�Lynchings were violent and public events that traumatized black people throughout the country and were largely tolerated by state and federal officials,� the Equal Justice Initiative states. �This was not �frontier justice� carried out by a few marginalized vigilantes or extremists. Instead, many African Americans who were never accused of any crime were tortured and murdered in front of picnicking spectators (including elected officials and prominent citizens) for bumping into a white person, or wearing their military uniforms after World War I, or not using the appropriate title when addressing a white person. People who participated in lynchings were celebrated and acted with impunity. Not a single white person was convicted of murder for lynching a black person in America during this period.�
If you get the New York Times, you might have read the Feb. 10 article about the report. It included a map locating all the lynchings, and noted that the Initiative�s plan to erect public markers -- in a region replete with laudatory Confederate monuments -- �will involve significant fund-raising, negotiations with distrustful landowners and, almost undoubtedly, intense controversy.�
Reading the Times article made me decide to blog about it now, and pivot away from the focus of previous blogs. My 15 earlier posts dealt with American Indian topics, being an outgrowth of my historical novel Visions of Teaoga. Lynching struck a particular nerve because I�ve launched another writing project, on an African American topic this time. It involves my little hometown in Northeastern Pennsylvania, which harbored a settlement of ex-slaves during the Underground Railroad years. A dozen of the town�s black men volunteered for the Union Army and fought in the Civil War. I�ve been researching the men�s unsung lives, including their origins in bondage in the racist South.
The Times article on the lynching report led me to the Equal Justice Initiative�s website and directly to its full report and county-by-county tally of the crimes. Consider scanning the tally youself, at eji.org.
It might reveal that even if you�re not from the South, you�re probably only one step removed from the shadow of lynching. For instance, my dad�s parents lived for years in Georgia, in a county that tallied five lynchings. Three lynchings occurred in the South Carolina county where my nephew lives, another three in the North Carolina county where a cousin lives. Another cousin raised her family in an Arkansas county that tallied one lynching. And who hasn�t vacationed in Miami-Dade County, which experienced six lynchings, or New Orleans, which tallied 13?
Still, some might argue, our modern society has turned the page on lynchings so why dwell on it so much? Here�s how Bryan Stevenson, who heads the Equal Justice Initiative, answers that.
�Lynching profoundly impacted race relations in this country and shaped the contemporary geographic, political, social, and economic conditions of African Americans. Most importantly, lynching reinforced a narrative of racial difference and a legacy of racial inequality that is readily apparent in our criminal justice system today. Mass incarceration, racially biased capital punishment, excessive sentencing, disproportionate sentencing of racial minorities, and police abuse of people of color reveal problems in American society that were shaped by the terror era.�
Indeed, Stevenson argues, many African Americans who joined the Great Migration from the South should be considered refugees fleeing terrorism and not merely seeking work in Northern factories.
�We cannot heal the deep wounds inflicted during the era of racial terrorism until we tell the truth about it,� he says. �The geographic, political, economic, and social consequences of decades of terror lynchings can still be seen in many communities today and the damage created by lynching needs to be confronted and discussed. Only then can we meaningfully address the contemporary problems that are lynching�s legacy.�
In a remarkable postscript, FBI director James B. Comey made a similar point in a Feb. 12 speech about police and prosecutors� mixed record on racial matters.
�All of us in law enforcement must be honest enough to acknowledge that much of our history is not pretty,� Comey said. �At many points in American history, law enforcement enforced the status quo, a status quo that was often brutally unfair to disfavored groups.�
This month, an intrepid Alabama-based rights group called the Equal Justice Initiative issued a monumental report on lynching that�s designed to grab us all by the lapels. It certainly has lit up social media. In five years of field research, the group amassed an inventory of 3,959 victims of �racial terror lynchings� in 12 Southern states from 1877 to 1950. That�s at least 700 more lynchings in these states than were previously listed.
An essential take-away from the research is that those hangings and burnings were hardly rogue occurrences.
�Lynchings were violent and public events that traumatized black people throughout the country and were largely tolerated by state and federal officials,� the Equal Justice Initiative states. �This was not �frontier justice� carried out by a few marginalized vigilantes or extremists. Instead, many African Americans who were never accused of any crime were tortured and murdered in front of picnicking spectators (including elected officials and prominent citizens) for bumping into a white person, or wearing their military uniforms after World War I, or not using the appropriate title when addressing a white person. People who participated in lynchings were celebrated and acted with impunity. Not a single white person was convicted of murder for lynching a black person in America during this period.�
If you get the New York Times, you might have read the Feb. 10 article about the report. It included a map locating all the lynchings, and noted that the Initiative�s plan to erect public markers -- in a region replete with laudatory Confederate monuments -- �will involve significant fund-raising, negotiations with distrustful landowners and, almost undoubtedly, intense controversy.�
Reading the Times article made me decide to blog about it now, and pivot away from the focus of previous blogs. My 15 earlier posts dealt with American Indian topics, being an outgrowth of my historical novel Visions of Teaoga. Lynching struck a particular nerve because I�ve launched another writing project, on an African American topic this time. It involves my little hometown in Northeastern Pennsylvania, which harbored a settlement of ex-slaves during the Underground Railroad years. A dozen of the town�s black men volunteered for the Union Army and fought in the Civil War. I�ve been researching the men�s unsung lives, including their origins in bondage in the racist South.
The Times article on the lynching report led me to the Equal Justice Initiative�s website and directly to its full report and county-by-county tally of the crimes. Consider scanning the tally youself, at eji.org.
It might reveal that even if you�re not from the South, you�re probably only one step removed from the shadow of lynching. For instance, my dad�s parents lived for years in Georgia, in a county that tallied five lynchings. Three lynchings occurred in the South Carolina county where my nephew lives, another three in the North Carolina county where a cousin lives. Another cousin raised her family in an Arkansas county that tallied one lynching. And who hasn�t vacationed in Miami-Dade County, which experienced six lynchings, or New Orleans, which tallied 13?
Still, some might argue, our modern society has turned the page on lynchings so why dwell on it so much? Here�s how Bryan Stevenson, who heads the Equal Justice Initiative, answers that.
�Lynching profoundly impacted race relations in this country and shaped the contemporary geographic, political, social, and economic conditions of African Americans. Most importantly, lynching reinforced a narrative of racial difference and a legacy of racial inequality that is readily apparent in our criminal justice system today. Mass incarceration, racially biased capital punishment, excessive sentencing, disproportionate sentencing of racial minorities, and police abuse of people of color reveal problems in American society that were shaped by the terror era.�
Indeed, Stevenson argues, many African Americans who joined the Great Migration from the South should be considered refugees fleeing terrorism and not merely seeking work in Northern factories.
�We cannot heal the deep wounds inflicted during the era of racial terrorism until we tell the truth about it,� he says. �The geographic, political, economic, and social consequences of decades of terror lynchings can still be seen in many communities today and the damage created by lynching needs to be confronted and discussed. Only then can we meaningfully address the contemporary problems that are lynching�s legacy.�
In a remarkable postscript, FBI director James B. Comey made a similar point in a Feb. 12 speech about police and prosecutors� mixed record on racial matters.
�All of us in law enforcement must be honest enough to acknowledge that much of our history is not pretty,� Comey said. �At many points in American history, law enforcement enforced the status quo, a status quo that was often brutally unfair to disfavored groups.�
January 29, 2015
Is the "R-Word" Ever OK?
Thousands of American Indians and other activists have protested the team name.
The Huffington Post has just run a hard-hitting piece that looks at the continuing distress over the Washington pro football team�s refusal to change its name and drop that controversial American Indian logo. You know what we�re referring to.
It seems officials of a civil rights group recently met with team reps and were rudely shouted down. That, according to the opinion piece, is in keeping with the NFL�s apparent �playbook� for stiff-arming criticism of the team�s recalcitrance. Here�s how the writer, clinical psychologist Michael Friedman, analyzed the strategy�s apparent components:
�Reframe a dictionary- and government-defined racial slur as a term of �honor.� � The Washington team has actually done that, stating to fans that the R-word is really a �badge of honor.�
�Disregard protests of Native Americans and civil rights leaders.� As Friedman notes, �almost every major American Indian organization� has denounced the team name as a slur.
�Ignore science showing harmful effects of racism against American Indians.� Friedman cites studies showing that the presence of R-word images �results directly in lower self-esteem and lower mood among American Indian youth� and can �activate negative sterotypes� among non-Indians.
�Don't we have more important things to worry about?" This refers to the response that the team�s critics exemplify �political correctness gone awry� and should turn their focus to �more pressing� issues the native world faces such as poverty.
The entire strategy is �atrocious,� Friedman writes. �And just like the controversy regarding its handling of concussions and domestic violence, the NFL playbook of defending racist slurs against American Indians gives the impression that it does what it wants, when it wants, regardless of who gets hurt.�
I�ve blogged about this issue before, pointing out that a number of high schools in the region where my book Visions of Teaoga is based have dropped their Indian team names and mascots. Just as I applaud those moves, I agree here with Friedman. Team nicknames and cartoonish mascots may bespeak an earlier age and sensibility, when Cowboys, Indians, Patriots, Pioneers, Rebels, Explorers, Knickerbockers, Minutemen and other historical icons were common currency and the purveyors of popular culture didn�t give a second thought to caricaturing them. But it�s one thing to caricature a secure white group like Quakers or Cavaliers and quite another to lampoon a vulnerable minority group that our nation has oppressed and shunted aside. Especially in this day and age, and especially when that group is pleading with you to stop the insults.
In other words, I�d say it�s time Washington adopts a new name and the NFL gets a new playbook. What do you think?
The Huffington Post can be found at this link: http://www.huffingtonpost.com/michael...
January 18, 2015
Saving the Lenape language
The game efforts to keep the Lenape (Delaware Indian) language alive has been on my checklist of good blog topics from day one. Other ideas kept crowding it out, however, so it stayed in later-soon status. But it’s time now, past time, to jump in.
What brought the issue back to mind is a language controversy currently embroiling the Navajo people in Arizona. Perhaps you read about it in this week’s New York Times. The Navajo Nation just installed new leaders – except for elected president Chris Deschene. It seems that fluency in the cherished Navajo (Dine) language is a requirement of leadership, and a court challenge over Deschene’s lack of proficiency led to his being disqualified from office. The future of the tribe’s leadership, and of the fluency requirement, sadly remains up in the air.
Back in Pennsylvania, the descendants of the region’s indigenous Lenape people have reasserted their culture and their very presence over the last few decades. Last summer I wrote here about how representatives of the Lenape Nation of Pennsylvania took a river journey down the Delaware River bearing a Treaty of Renewed Friendship they signed with environmental groups, churches, historical societies, and other supporters. The Lenape group has a web presence and has helped to inform public displays and scholarship at the University of Pennsylvania, Swarthmore College and elsewhere.
One of the most inspiring, and probably toughest, aspects of the Lenape’s modern-day revival has been salvaging their endangered language. This language holds a special place in our history, being widely enough understood in colonial days that it was often the choice of diplomatic interpreters. It certainly figures largely in the white-Indian council proceedings in my historical novel Visions of Teaoga.
But today, according to Shelley DePaul, chief of the Lenape Nation of Pennsylvania, there are only three proficient Lenape speakers left in her community. Yes, three.
DePaul is one of them--but she is working hard to turn that around. Since 2009 she has taught her language in a unique program in Swarthmore College’s linguistics department. She teaches a combination of Lenape culture and language to students who generally are not native themselves.
According to a Swarthmore College article about the project, DePaul and her students have transcribed surviving passages of the language. They’ve set grammar standards. They’ve developed dictionaries, primers and phonetic renditions, much of it available online. She said they've even translated cultural ceremonies back into Lenape so her people can perform them as originally intended.
“Lenape is not taught at any other institution of higher learning in the world,” linguistics chair K. David Harrison was quoted as saying. “The fact that it's being taught here, in the traditional Lenape homeland [the Delaware River watershed], makes a small contribution toward addressing past injustices suffered by Native Americans.”
Shelley DePaul’s invaluable work reminds me of an article I wrote in the 1970s when I was a VISTA staffer for an American Indian newspaper in North Dakota. There was a desperate effort to transcribe the spoken language of the Arikara Indians by tapping the tongue and knowledge of one of its last living speakers. The effort bore fruit. The Arikara language remains alive, though on life support, still spoken by a few reservation elders.
An irony of DePaul’s project is that non-Lenape Swarthmore students have become some of the most fluent Lenape speakers alive. But perhaps out of their goodwill effort, a measure of historical justice will emerge.
To check out some Lenape vocab and expressions, go to:
http://www.swarthmore.edu/SocSci/Ling...
What brought the issue back to mind is a language controversy currently embroiling the Navajo people in Arizona. Perhaps you read about it in this week’s New York Times. The Navajo Nation just installed new leaders – except for elected president Chris Deschene. It seems that fluency in the cherished Navajo (Dine) language is a requirement of leadership, and a court challenge over Deschene’s lack of proficiency led to his being disqualified from office. The future of the tribe’s leadership, and of the fluency requirement, sadly remains up in the air.
Back in Pennsylvania, the descendants of the region’s indigenous Lenape people have reasserted their culture and their very presence over the last few decades. Last summer I wrote here about how representatives of the Lenape Nation of Pennsylvania took a river journey down the Delaware River bearing a Treaty of Renewed Friendship they signed with environmental groups, churches, historical societies, and other supporters. The Lenape group has a web presence and has helped to inform public displays and scholarship at the University of Pennsylvania, Swarthmore College and elsewhere.
One of the most inspiring, and probably toughest, aspects of the Lenape’s modern-day revival has been salvaging their endangered language. This language holds a special place in our history, being widely enough understood in colonial days that it was often the choice of diplomatic interpreters. It certainly figures largely in the white-Indian council proceedings in my historical novel Visions of Teaoga.
But today, according to Shelley DePaul, chief of the Lenape Nation of Pennsylvania, there are only three proficient Lenape speakers left in her community. Yes, three.
DePaul is one of them--but she is working hard to turn that around. Since 2009 she has taught her language in a unique program in Swarthmore College’s linguistics department. She teaches a combination of Lenape culture and language to students who generally are not native themselves.
According to a Swarthmore College article about the project, DePaul and her students have transcribed surviving passages of the language. They’ve set grammar standards. They’ve developed dictionaries, primers and phonetic renditions, much of it available online. She said they've even translated cultural ceremonies back into Lenape so her people can perform them as originally intended.
“Lenape is not taught at any other institution of higher learning in the world,” linguistics chair K. David Harrison was quoted as saying. “The fact that it's being taught here, in the traditional Lenape homeland [the Delaware River watershed], makes a small contribution toward addressing past injustices suffered by Native Americans.”
Shelley DePaul’s invaluable work reminds me of an article I wrote in the 1970s when I was a VISTA staffer for an American Indian newspaper in North Dakota. There was a desperate effort to transcribe the spoken language of the Arikara Indians by tapping the tongue and knowledge of one of its last living speakers. The effort bore fruit. The Arikara language remains alive, though on life support, still spoken by a few reservation elders.
An irony of DePaul’s project is that non-Lenape Swarthmore students have become some of the most fluent Lenape speakers alive. But perhaps out of their goodwill effort, a measure of historical justice will emerge.
To check out some Lenape vocab and expressions, go to:
http://www.swarthmore.edu/SocSci/Ling...
January 17, 2015
Saving the Lenape Language
The game efforts to keep the Lenape (Delaware Indian) language alive has been on my checklist of good blog topics from day one. Other ideas kept crowding it out, however, so it stayed in later-soon status. But it�s time now, past time, to jump in.
What brought the issue back to mind is a language controversy currently embroiling the Navajo people in Arizona. Perhaps you read about it in this week�s New York Times. The Navajo Nation just installed new leaders � except for elected president Chris Deschene. It seems that fluency in the cherished Navajo (Dine) language is a requirement of leadership, and a court challenge over Deschene�s lack of proficiency led to his being disqualified from office. The future of the tribe�s leadership, and of the fluency requirement, sadly remains up in the air.
Back in Pennsylvania, the descendants of the region�s indigenous Lenape people have reasserted their culture and their very presence over the last few decades. Last summer I wrote here about how representatives of the Lenape Nation of Pennsylvania took a river journey down the Delaware River bearing a Treaty of Renewed Friendship they signed with environmental groups, churches, historical societies, and other supporters. The Lenape group has a web presence and has helped to inform public displays and scholarship at the University of Pennsylvania, Swarthmore College and elsewhere.
One of the most inspiring, and probably toughest, aspects of the Lenape�s modern-day revival has been salvaging their endangered language. This language holds a special place in our history, being widely enough understood in colonial days that it was often the choice of diplomatic interpreters. It certainly figures largely in the white-Indian council proceedings in my historical novel Visions of Teaoga.
But today, according to Shelley DePaul, chief of the Lenape Nation of Pennsylvania, there are only three proficient Lenape speakers left in her community. Yes, three.
DePaul is one of them--but she is working hard to turn that around. Since 2009 she has taught her language in a unique program in Swarthmore College�s linguistics department. She teaches a combination of Lenape culture and language to students who generally are not native themselves.
According to a Swarthmore College article about the project, DePaul and her students have transcribed surviving passages of the language. They�ve set grammar standards. They�ve developed dictionaries, primers and phonetic renditions, much of it available online. She said they've even translated cultural ceremonies back into Lenape so her people can perform them as originally intended.
�Lenape is not taught at any other institution of higher learning in the world,� linguistics chair K. David Harrison was quoted as saying. �The fact that it's being taught here, in the traditional Lenape homeland [the Delaware River watershed], makes a small contribution toward addressing past injustices suffered by Native Americans.�
DePaul�s invaluable work reminds me of an article I wrote in the 1970s when I was a VISTA staffer for an American Indian newspaper in North Dakota. There was a desperate effort to transcribe the spoken language of the Arikara Indians by tapping the tongue and knowledge of one of its last living speakers. The effort bore fruit. The Arikara language remains alive, though on life support, still spoken by a few reservation elders.
An irony of DePaul�s project is that non-Lenape Swarthmore students have become some of the most fluent Lenape speakers alive. But perhaps out of their goodwill effort, a measure of historical justice will emerge.
To check out some Lenape vocab and expressions, go to:
http://www.swarthmore.edu/SocSci/Ling...
What brought the issue back to mind is a language controversy currently embroiling the Navajo people in Arizona. Perhaps you read about it in this week�s New York Times. The Navajo Nation just installed new leaders � except for elected president Chris Deschene. It seems that fluency in the cherished Navajo (Dine) language is a requirement of leadership, and a court challenge over Deschene�s lack of proficiency led to his being disqualified from office. The future of the tribe�s leadership, and of the fluency requirement, sadly remains up in the air.
Back in Pennsylvania, the descendants of the region�s indigenous Lenape people have reasserted their culture and their very presence over the last few decades. Last summer I wrote here about how representatives of the Lenape Nation of Pennsylvania took a river journey down the Delaware River bearing a Treaty of Renewed Friendship they signed with environmental groups, churches, historical societies, and other supporters. The Lenape group has a web presence and has helped to inform public displays and scholarship at the University of Pennsylvania, Swarthmore College and elsewhere.
One of the most inspiring, and probably toughest, aspects of the Lenape�s modern-day revival has been salvaging their endangered language. This language holds a special place in our history, being widely enough understood in colonial days that it was often the choice of diplomatic interpreters. It certainly figures largely in the white-Indian council proceedings in my historical novel Visions of Teaoga.
But today, according to Shelley DePaul, chief of the Lenape Nation of Pennsylvania, there are only three proficient Lenape speakers left in her community. Yes, three.
DePaul is one of them--but she is working hard to turn that around. Since 2009 she has taught her language in a unique program in Swarthmore College�s linguistics department. She teaches a combination of Lenape culture and language to students who generally are not native themselves.
According to a Swarthmore College article about the project, DePaul and her students have transcribed surviving passages of the language. They�ve set grammar standards. They�ve developed dictionaries, primers and phonetic renditions, much of it available online. She said they've even translated cultural ceremonies back into Lenape so her people can perform them as originally intended.
�Lenape is not taught at any other institution of higher learning in the world,� linguistics chair K. David Harrison was quoted as saying. �The fact that it's being taught here, in the traditional Lenape homeland [the Delaware River watershed], makes a small contribution toward addressing past injustices suffered by Native Americans.�
DePaul�s invaluable work reminds me of an article I wrote in the 1970s when I was a VISTA staffer for an American Indian newspaper in North Dakota. There was a desperate effort to transcribe the spoken language of the Arikara Indians by tapping the tongue and knowledge of one of its last living speakers. The effort bore fruit. The Arikara language remains alive, though on life support, still spoken by a few reservation elders.
An irony of DePaul�s project is that non-Lenape Swarthmore students have become some of the most fluent Lenape speakers alive. But perhaps out of their goodwill effort, a measure of historical justice will emerge.
To check out some Lenape vocab and expressions, go to:
http://www.swarthmore.edu/SocSci/Ling...
The Slave as "Crushed Vegetable''
In researching the Underground Railroad past of my hometown, Waverly, Pa., I came across a fascinating explication of the abolition mission, at least as it was understood by white participants in the
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