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Even before I understood the words, or knew much about the nuances of music that portray tone and depth of feeling; Billie Holiday's "Poison Fruit" evoked a vague but real fear for me. There was something ominous about -- not so much the words -- as some sense of that deep, dark place from whence those words came. It was that other sense we rarely use that tells us when we should be afraid. The recent news of Ray Golden's death by hanging in Belle Glade, Florida, elicited that kind of emotion. The kind that Billie Holiday, that beautiful, wild sage who saw far too much through those smoke-filled eyes, spoke of in her haunting song. I remember old folks in the south -- probably no older than I am today -- bantering, joking between themselves, exclaiming, "Who you gone believe, your lyin' eyes or me?" Ray Golden's death by hanging somehow recalled that memory hidden somewhere in the recesses of my brain. Even in childhood I knew it was some twisted riddle. That somebody was pulling the wool over somebody else's eyes. Yet, that other sense gained from growing up in the Arkansas delta made me know that at some time in history the riddle had meant something more to people like me; that, there was an underlying truth, no matter how much in jest it was expressed. And, whether it was a uniquely southern phrase or not, the fact that I remembered it in relationship to Ray Golden's hanging, merits it a place on this black southerners' wall of remembrances. The fact that just one word, five simple letters: LYNCH, evokes such strong emotions in black America, even in this 21st century, speaks volumes. Not the same when we hear word such as jabberwocky, scalawag, redcoat, jezebel…or, others that once held meanings just as vivid. This fact instructs us that our past, does indeed, precede us. That, how a black man dies in America is far more important than the mere fact that he dies. While they tell us far too little, America's history books does make it clear that deaths such as Golden's were once as American as apple pie; but who of us, black or white, really want to be reminded of that page in America's past? Most of us, in order to emotionally move forward, opt not to be reminded of America's yellowing dirty laundry; lulling ourselves into believing that our past is just that. Yet, Ray Goldens' hanging, or lynching - by his own hands or by others, reminds us that our past precedes us. Billie Holiday, beautiful in her contrast of light and darkness, warned of the dangers of short memories. That, black men and their families dare not forget the day before as they loll in their todays. That, our attempts to eschew our dark past, results also in our failure to recognize the powerful light within that darkness…the one which guided our steps through America's bowel of slavery. The Southern Poverty Law Center, one of America's foremost think tanks on poverty and race, made the interesting point that no lynching had been documented in America in more than two decades, and cautioned Americans to tread softly with their accusations and suspicions that such atrocities still exist. We laud their optimism. Yet. Black America dare not forget its dark past. At its peak -- and for roughly 30 years - racial lynching averaged 100 per year. One hundred mostly-innocent men and women died inhumanely at the hands of good and just Americans out to rid the world of darkness. We dare not be lulled by statistics and official videos and good people saying it can never happen again. In the end, it is our past, certainly, not our present, that must instruct our path. Janis F. Kearney is a Chicago writer, former journalist and diarist to President Bill Clinton. A Harvard W.E.B. Du Bois Fellow, she is currently completing William Jefferson Clinton: From Hope to Harlem; and a personal memoir, Cotton Field of Dreams. Kearney Communications 5138 S. Kenwood Ave.#2 Chicago, IL 60615 (773) 493-2007 --ph (773) 493-5747 -- fax janisfk@aol.com |
