Recently working on a family cemetery project, I've started to confront the uncomfortable fact that my relatives are buried in what in some ways is a Confederate cemetery--not officially, but in terms of the number of former Confederate soldiers buried there, including two of my great-great uncles. I was born and grew up white in Tennessee, so, almost inevitably, this is part of my heritage, and I've begun to contemplate what to do to repent for my ancestors, who were too poor, in the main, to own slaves themselves, but who nevertheless partook of the racism that made slavery and Jim Crow possible.
Reading The Family Tree by Karen Branan is part of the process of educating myself about how others have faced similar issues, and it's a valuable part of that. The book is a bit of a wild ride in a couple of ways. First, the history that Branan describes and that surrounds the 1912 lynching of three black men and one black woman in Harris County, Georgia, is astonishingly brutal, complicated, and emotionally fraught. Branan describes learning about her own relatives' numerous connections to this event and many other related events and how this changes her view of people she thought she knew and that she loved (such as her grandfather, who was the sheriff who failed to effectively protect these prisoners who were in his care).
The second way that the book is a bit wild is in its organization. The book moves back and forth through the history of Harris County, the state of Georgia, and what was going on in Washington and elsewhere; back and forth through time across the traditions of slavery and the vicissitudes of the Jim Crow era; and around and around all these interrelated families. It can be hard to keep it all straight, and this annoyed me in the first several chapters of the book. But I finally came to see that as part of the point--it was a wild time and all the people, events, laws, and constantly shifted and created conflict and confusion. I finally just sat back and read through it impressionistically instead of like a lawyer. I read it emotionally instead of analytically. I let it hit me how messed up it all was, how unhappy everyone was, the extent to which racism and brutality were the sick air that everyone breathed.
And that is what Branan's book does well. She captures the pervasive air of silence and shame that hung over white people--even those who wanted on some level to change, even those who had black lovers and friends. Perhaps her most important point is that the white people who were passive and, perhaps, even those who lynched black people, were ordinary. She claims that the were not "monsters," but people who did "monstrous things." I could quibble there--what else defines a "monster" other than monstrous deeds? But what I think is important is that she captures how schizoid the whole culture was and often remains. She captures how race and class intersected. She captures how innocence or guilt was not the issue in lynchings but, instead, how the lynchings served to paper over miscegenation and disenfranchisement and often white-on-white crime. But Brenan also makes it very clear how even those whites who participated in this hell were ashamed of their participation, of their own lawlessness, of their own racism.
Branan brings up our current moment and the resurgence of white supremacy at the end of the book, but it's impossible not to think about that the entire time you read it. There was a way in which it made me feel hopeful--if people could change at least somewhat during and after the terrible times that she describes, then we can, too. We can recover from this time we're living through. On the other hand, I felt sad that the markers of shame among virulent racists seem to be fewer. And while Branan describes a righteous Christianity (especially Methodism) that led the way to repentance for the sins of slavery and brutality after slavery, we currently have an often-perverted Christianity that advocates for sins like racism and violence. I see how the whites and blacks of Jim Crow ended up there, but I don't see how on Earth we ended up where we are today.