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67 pages 2 hours read

Clint Smith

How the Word Is Passed: A Reckoning with the History of Slavery Across America

Nonfiction | Book | Adult | Published in 2021

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Themes

White Supremacy’s Disruption of Black Families and Communities

Placing the origin point of Black family/community disruption at the transatlantic slave trade, Smith offers a trajectory of white supremacy’s transformations from the slave trade to contemporary society, showing how the disruption remains a vital element in the subjugation of Black people. Smith suggests the origins of Black family/community disruption when he speaks with Kane:

Part of what Hasan teaches his students is that we cannot understand slavery and colonialism as two separate historical phenomena. They are inextricably linked pieces of history. Slavery took a toll on West Africa’s population; millions of people were stripped from their homelands and sent across the ocean to serve in intergenerational bondage. The profound harm continued during colonialism, with much of the continent stripped of its natural resources (260).

While Kane’s distinction between the systems of plunder might seem to suggest that colonialism is less culpable in the phenomenon of separation, Kane’s students are acutely aware that the legacy of colonialism remains in the psyches of Senegalese people. By psychological mechanisms, colonialism continues to disrupt Black families and communities:

They told me that so many of the most talented young people from Senegal go on to universities around the world, and then don’t come back. They say it comes from the fact that they don’t have the same job opportunities back in Senegal, but also because people have internalized the idea that they are more valuable and more important if they live and work in Europe or America (266-267). 

Given the intimate connection between slavery and colonialism, Smith’s inclusion of these points from Kane and his students supports Smith’s aim of linking slavery to its aftermath, including contemporary manifestations. He identifies himself as “a Black man in America unable to trace my roots past a certain point in history. Whose lineage beyond the plantations where my ancestors were held remains obscured by the smog of displacement” (269). With this acknowledgement, Smith’s reason for visiting Gorée Island becomes clearer. It is motivated by the recognition that there is a break in his lineage, i.e., a separation of family and community, between West Africa and the United States, and this break can be traced back to Gorée or some other slave trading post in the region. As he talks with Coly, he thinks back to what Holden shared at the Whitney about how “many of the enslaved people in southern Louisiana were from the Senegambia region” (245), demonstrating his personal investment in exploring Gorée as a particular site, as he himself is from Louisiana. There are also several points in the text where Smith highlights his subjects’ recognition of cultural connections between West Africans and Black Americans that would imply slavery’s disruption of Black communities by displacing some of those community members across an ocean. 

Furthermore, Smith is clear that the disruption continues during plantation slavery and after. In the chapter on Monticello, he emphasizes the centrality of family separation to the practice of slavery. He includes facts about Jefferson’s engagement in family separation, statistics from historians about the prevalence of family separation, and a discussion of Henry Bibb’s narrative in which a family separation is depicted and described. In the chapter on New York, community disruption extends beyond the enslaved community. When Smith cites public historian Cynthia Copeland on the desires of “wealthy [white] New Yorkers” (233) to have a public park, alongside the fact that New York City’s mayor, Fernando Wood, invoked eminent domain to seize the Seneca Valley land, he alludes to the way that government policy supports white people’s personal investment in the maintenance of white supremacy. Family separation becomes an exemplary display of that power. 

No contemporary example is more poignant for Smith than that of mass incarceration. His visit to Angola is marked by the institution’s parallels to chattel slavery, while it is also evident that the institution has taken great pains to de-emphasize its relationship to slavery. While Smith is not explicit about the ways that mass incarceration disrupts Black families and communities, he does note the ways that it serves white supremacy through its “clear, misguided demarcations between ‘criminals’ and those who watch over them” (91). The demarcation is made all the clearer by the juxtaposition of Black family disruption to white family maintenance. Smith notes that prison employees and their families were not only housed on the grounds, but also made personal use of incarcerated people’s labor into the 20th century (103). 

This relates back to Smith’s emphasis in the Monticello chapter on how Jefferson, a man whose entire lifestyle depended on slave labor, “separated children under ten from their families by transferring them between his own properties or giving them to family members as gifts” (18). What Smith seems to suggest here is that an integral part of white supremacy is strengthening the bonds of white family and white community through the subjugation of Black people, and that subjugation often takes the form of exercising the power to separate Black families and communities. Another example demonstrating this power beyond slavery is the white terror that threatened the lives of Smith’s grandparents and Yvonne Holden’s family, driving them to flee the Jim Crow South during the Great Migration, thereby separating families and communities that had been established in the South. 

The disruption of Black family and community occupies such a central role in How the Word is Passed because Smith’s culminating conceptions of lineage and memory as integral to the reckoning of slavery depend on the reconnection of seemingly broken links. In short, continued disruption serves as an impediment to bridging the gaps, so the reconnection requires deliberate and conscious effort to invoke one’s lineage and their memory.

The Patriarchal Violence of White Supremacy

The interaction between patriarchy and white supremacy also occupies a central role in the text, especially with reference to enslaved women and enslaved children. While Smith doesn’t provide an explicit definition of patriarchy, he references it in the chapter on the Whitney when he notes that enslaved women were up against “the power of the state, the power of patriarchy, the power of society” (68). As a system of domination with conceptual roots in theocratically-ordained and legally codified family structures, defined by a male head of household over women, children, and enslaved people, the integral role of patriarchy in the institution of slavery becomes clear through Smith’s discussions of enslaved women and enslaved children. 

Violence against enslaved women is most explicitly discussed in the chapter on the Whitney, but it is also referenced in the chapter on Monticello. During discussion at the Whitney, Holden emphasizes that “in order to really understand slavery, we have to understand what slavery meant for women” (67). Smith notes, “Sexual violence was ubiquitous throughout slavery, and it followed enslaved women wherever they went” (67). Discussing Jefferson and Hemings, he expresses doubt that “an association animated by ownership of one person over another” (30) can be classified as a relationship, referencing the power dynamic that would blur the distinction between Heming’s consent and coercion/domination. Smith’s attention to patriarchal power and its manifestations underscores his assertion that slavery was not about dehumanizing the enslaved; rather, it was about power, and the power depended entirely upon the human capacities of enslaved people. Hence, sexual violence against enslaved women. 

Not only did enslaved women have the human capacity for white men to assert their sexual dominance through rape, but they also had the human capacity to affirm white men’s procreative power and increase of their wealth, all central tenets of patriarchy. Thus, sexual violence against women directly relates to another exercise of patriarchal power, the domination of children. Smith notes the prevalence of enslaved children being fathered by slave owners and plantation breeding (69). In his discussion with Cummings, Smith learns that Cummings’ motivation to center the experiences of enslaved people at the Whitney was learning about the “good breeder” role in the plantation’s slave records (76). Because “children sustained and embodied the institution of slavery, especially after the formal end of the transatlantic slave trade” (62), they served as emblems of the maintenance of white supremacist power.

The impact of slavery on children emphasizes the deleterious effects of a power structure rooted in domination and subjugation. In the chapter on the Whitney, Smith cites formal and informal historians on the brutal conditions and high mortality rates of Black children (62). His visit to the African Burial Ground in New York City includes Damaras’ mention of high rates of infant mortality– including that attributed to infanticide– and the damage found in the bodies of the children exhumed and examined (229). When Niang reflects on his experience of the first visit to Gorée Island, he “kept thinking of the children ensnared in slavery’s grip” (258), unable to imagine “the fear that these children would have felt” (258). Smith connects slavery’s impact on children to Jim Crow’s impact on children, when he speaks to his grandparents, who he reimagines as children facing the threat of terror. This imagining reconfigures his entire idea of who they are as people and elicits understanding about the psychological toll that displays of white supremacy have had on them and how they navigate the world. 

Patriarchy plays an integral role in the maintenance of white supremacy. The wedding of the two systems of domination and hierarchy are evident in the ways that white men exercised both sexual and racial power over enslaved women. In the exercise of that power over enslaved women, they also managed to increase that power by producing more beings over which patriarchal power can be exercised, the children, who are both their lineage and their enslaved property. Paternal authority and economic authority become intertwined, along with sexual authority. Thus, patriarchy and white supremacy function in a reciprocal relationship, whereby each maintains and reinforces the other.

The Failures of Public Education

As Smith examines the ways that public history sites are reckoning with slavery, the failures of public education come to play a central role in the discussion. At several points throughout the text, Smith and others note that they have learned sanitized historical narratives that obscure the role and impact of slavery in the United States. For example, Donna, Grace, Theresa, Bates, and Smith himself all admit that their primary education emphasized Jefferson’s role as a founding father and exemplary figure, while diminishing his relationship to slavery. The idea of public education’s failures also appears in the chapter on the Whitney, as Holden, Seck, and Cummings all note how the education system has failed to account for slavery and its legacy. 

Smith also demonstrates that among older generations of Black people, there is an awareness that public education has misrepresented slavery and Black people. Johnson and Bostic at Galveston note public education’s inability to recognize Black people’s history prior to, during, and after bondage. In the epilogue, Smith’s grandmother expresses, “I didn’t learn the truth about slavery until actually I got out of school and went to college” (283). Before college, Smith’s grandmother was taught to view Africans as caricatures and less than human. By including his grandmother’s expression of the connection between slavery and perceptions of African people, Smith alludes to the global implications and proportions of white supremacy. The miseducation, then, must extend beyond the US. Smith demonstrates that miseducation in service to white supremacy is a global phenomenon, and that even schools in Senegal center European history at the expense of the rich legacies of African peoples (262). 

Smith asserts that the miseducation is a deliberate effort that relates directly to the role that children play in the perpetuation of white supremacy. In the Blandford chapter, Smith discusses the United Daughters of the Confederacy (UDC) and the role they played in seizing the public memory through not only the erection of Confederate monuments, but also through the educational system. Citing historian Karen L. Cox, Smith notes that the UDC “saw children as ‘living monuments’ who would go on to defend the principles of states’ rights and white supremacy” (161). By noting the role that white children by way of public education serve in the perpetuation of white supremacy, Smith offers a direct contrast to how Black children are regarded. Although the perpetuation of white supremacist narratives is harmful to all children, its impact on Black children is more acutely felt. Thus, Smith and his interview subjects advocate deliberate re-education efforts to counterbalance the impact on Black children. Tiernan at Galveston mentions “learning models that break down and break out of our traditional conceptions of what education should look like” (180), suggesting that not only the content but also the structure of education requires changes to empower Black children. Tiernan’s collaboration with Johnson and the Nia Cultural Center underscores her commitment to remodeling content and structure, as Johnson’s educational model includes musical and other cultural aspects meant to increase Black children’s self-esteem by situating Black history within a larger context beyond and before slavery in the Americas. 

Similarly, Seck and Kane believe that a more holistic educational model, one that includes pre-slavery history of African/Black societies, is key to helping Black children navigate the world. On going beyond the brutality of slavery in what he teaches, Seck says:

Yes, of course, they did suffer a lot. They built the foundation of the economy of this country. But let’s also go beyond all of that and see how they contributed to building the culture that all Americans are enjoying today. And also, outside in the world, the culture is everywhere. And what makes American culture so active abroad, outside, has something to do with the culture that was born on this plantation. (81)

Learning about the cultural contributions of Black African people, whether enslaved or prior to enslavement, plays a key role in repairing Black self-esteem because the idea that Africans had no culture prior to European arrival has been central to the creation and maintenance of white supremacy. One of Kane’s students, Aida, explains that in their primary education before Mariama Ba, they were taught that Europeans came to Africa for discovery and missionary work, and that what they discovered were Africa’s resources and that Africa had no culture (263). When Aida corrects her language to reflect that “no culture” was not a discovery but rather a belief that Europeans held about Africans, and when the rest of the students shake “their heads at the absurdity of the [European] sentiment” (264), it demonstrates how Kane’s more holistic model of education repairs the damage of public education by exposing the lies that have impacted their understanding of who they are. Smith himself recognizes at Galveston the difference that a more truthful narrative could have had on his childhood.

He believes that “providing young people with the language, the history, and the framework to identify why their society looks the way it does” (179) is central to giving them agency. He dreams about what it would mean “if we could extend these lessons to every child” (179), suggesting not only that the failures of public education have deleterious impacts on all children, but also that the conscious re-education effort has implications beyond Black children’s self-esteem and ability to navigate the world. The failure of public education, then, is a national and global issue that those reckoning with slavery address in their attempts to come to terms with contemporary manifestations of slavery’s legacy.

The Power of Symbolism

As symbolism and iconography play an integral role in the dissemination of public history narratives, they also play a central role in Smith’s analysis of how various sites and people are reckoning with slavery. Smith emphasizes the differences in how white and Black people understand symbols that are perceived to be emblematic of the United States. He also demonstrates that Black people recognize the power of symbolism and have come to not only demand the eradication of white supremacist symbols, but also the erection and maintenance of symbols that honor their Black ancestors.

The differential perceptions of American iconography underscore the contrast between the United States’ public image and its reality. As Smith points out in the chapter on New York City, the Statue of Liberty and the Declaration of Independence are not symbols of welcome or freedom, as they are in the public narrative, for Black people in the United States. For Americans, they are symbols of “the contradictions in America’s promise, and a reminder that its promises have not always been extended to us” (235). The contradictory and unfulfilled promises of the Declaration of Independence are also a point of discussion in Galveston, where Edwards II discusses the deliberate conception of Juneteenth as a Black Independence Day, and where Smith cites Frederick Douglass’s “What to the Slave is the Fourth of July?” (195-196). The differential perceptions are even more apparent with respect to Confederate iconography. Reflecting on his conversation with Jeff at Blandford, Smith notes the contrast between how they perceive Confederate symbolism: “It was clear that the Confederacy, and the flag flown in its honor, meant something very specific to Jeff. But for myself, and so many people I love, it meant something different, something far more sinister and violent” (157). 

By pointing out the differences in perception, Smith suggests that symbolism is fluid in that meanings are subject to one’s experience of the world. The efforts of Black activists to eradicate Confederate monuments, including statues, street and school names, and public holidays, all of which are state-sanctioned and taxpayer-funded, are rooted in acknowledgement of their Black ancestors’ experience. Smith demonstrates this fluidity at the end of the Blandford chapter with his translations of GPS instructions. For example, “Go straight for two miles on Robert E. Lee” (171) becomes “Go straight for two miles on the general whose troops slaughtered hundreds of Black soldiers who were trying to surrender” (171). Lee is transformed from a paragon of humility and leadership, as he exists in the public imagination, to a perpetrator of mass murder rooted in white supremacy. 

However, the fluidity is not meant to suggest that changing the existing narrative around white supremacist symbols is enough. It must be complemented by the creation and maintenance of symbols that honor the fullness of Black experience and make it a central part of the public historical narrative. In the prologue, Smith notes the work of the New Orleans Committee to Erect Markers on the Slave Trade (4). Edwards II’s mention of Juneteenth’s conceptualization as a Black Independence Day also suggests the active creation of symbols that honor Black experience. With both celebratory and solemn aspects being integral to Juneteenth, it is exemplary of the project of freedom. Like the Statue of Liberty and the Declaration of Independence, it suggests the precariousness of the American idea, as it reminds people that there have been and still exist people for whom freedom and equal citizenship was/is not a reality. However, it also implies that Black people have been central to pushing forward the fulfillment of the American promise.

Smith’s recognition of the power of symbolism loosens his belief in purist conceptions of history. He comes to recognize that the historical gaps are filled, not by pure fact, which can never be fully known, or nostalgic interpretation, which altogether denies factual evidence, but rather by their intermediary, memory. The creation of public memory is the purpose of symbols. Because symbols involve myth, so too does the creation of public memory. Blandford, Galveston, and Gorée most notably point to the transformation of his understanding of symbolism and the integral role that myth plays in providing symbols with their meanings and creating public memory. While Smith is resistant to the myth that undergirds Blandford’s and its visitors’ perceptions of Confederate iconography, the role of myth in the symbolic meanings of Galveston’s Ashton Villa and Gorée’s Door of No Return forces him to reconsider how myth and symbols function in the reckoning with slavery. Smith recognizes that while symbols and their attached stories can be and have been used to white supremacist ends, they can also be valuable in the confrontation with white supremacist narratives and the rectification of public history. Thus, symbolism is another integral component of the reckoning with slavery.

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