Tag: civil rights

Trail of Tears State Park in Missouri

View over the Mississippi River from the scenic outlook in the Trail of Tears State Park. The outlook juts out over rocky bluffs, which allows you to see the flood plain across the river.

Driving through Missouri last week, I stopped at the Trail of Tears State Park, which may be an excellent place to study the post-colonial history of Native Americans (perhaps as part of our civil rights discussions), and observed the Mississippi River and its flood plain before it becomes engorged at its confluence with the Ohio River.

In 1830, President Andrew Jackson passed the Indian Removal Act, which called for the removal of American Indians living east of the Mississippi River to relocate west of the Mississippi River. …

While some of the Cherokees left on their own, more than 16,000 were forced out against their will. In winter 1838-39, an endless procession of wagons, horsemen and people on foot traveled 800 miles west to Indian Territory. Others traveled by boat along river routes. Most of the Cherokee detachments made their way through Cape Girardeau County, home of Trail of Tears State Park. While there, the Indians endured brutal conditions; they dealt with rain, snow, freezing cold, hunger and disease. Floating ice stopped the attempted Mississippi River crossing, so the detachments had to set up camps on both sides of the river. It is estimated that over 4,000 Cherokees lost their lives on the march, nearly a fifth of the population.

–Missouri Department of Natural Resources: Remembering an American Tragedy

The small museum at the main park building does a very good job of trying to dispassionately tell the tragic story.


View Trail of Tears State Park, MO in a larger map

Taking a break on the Nature Walk behind the park's museum.

There’s a short, 1 km nature walk behind the building that was nice on a beautiful, sunny day in early spring. Warm, with the trees just barely beginning to bud you can get a feel for the ridge-and-valley topography of the park, which is in stark contrast to the flat floodplain of the Mississippi on the other side of the river. The park’s roads weave up and down the ridges, and I wished I’d had my bike with me.

Barge going downstream on the Mississippi River, past the river-side campground.

This early in the year (mid-March) most of the campgrounds in the interior of the park seem to be closed, but there is one down on a beach of the Mississippi River that was empty but open. This one has electrical hookups which is not a bad thing if you have the place all to yourself.

The scenic outlook is a wooden platform that juts out through the trees so you can see across the Mississippi to the flat floodplain and farmland beyond. Sitting on a cliff of sedimentary rock (it looked like limestone from a distance), the outlook is high enough that you can just make out the shapes of old meander bends and ox-bow lakes.

It’s a small park, probably worth a visit for the museum, and the outlook is nice, but probably not somewhere you’ll want to spend the night unless some of the upland campgrounds are open.

The museum’s focus on the relocation of the Cherokee would be a nice followup to the pre-Columbian focus of the Chucalissa Museum in Memphis.

Cape Girardeau River Wall.

If you’re looking at river processes, you’ll probably also want to stop in Cape Giradeau, which boasts a fromidable wall to protect the downtown from the Mississippi River’s spring floods.

Minorities working together

One night in Georgia in the summer of 1962, Dresner and King were trapped with other activists in a house surrounded by hundreds of members of the local White Citizens Council.

While they were waiting for help, King told Dresner about the Passover seder he’d attended that spring at a Reform synagogue in Atlanta. He particularly recalled reading the Haggadah and hearing the phrase “We were slaves in Egypt.”

“Dr. King said to me, ‘I was enormously impressed that 3,000 years later, these people remember their ancestors were slaves, and they’re not ashamed,” Dresner said. “He told me, ‘We Negroes have to learn that, not to be ashamed of our slave heritage.’”
— Fishkoff (2010) in A half-century later, rabbis recall marching with Martin Luther King

Prejudice is one the major themes that’s come up in our discussions of the novel The Chrysalids. Students raised the idea that different minority groups might band together to fight for rights. I offered the examples of Jews in the civil rights movement in the 1960’s. Just in time, Sue Fishkoff has an article on rabbi’s who worked with Martin Luther King Jr.

The rabbis who joined these efforts were arrested, jailed and sometimes beaten, protected by the color of their skin from the worst physical dangers, but nonetheless threatened on a daily basis.
— Fishkoff (2010) in A half-century later, rabbis recall marching with Martin Luther King

Well, what about the Muslims?

First they came for the Communists,
and I didn’t speak up, because I wasn’t a Communist.

Then they came for the Jews,
and I didn’t speak up, because I wasn’t a Jew.

Then they came for the Catholics,
and I didn’t speak up, because I was a Protestant.

Then they came for me,
and by that time there was no one left to speak up for me.

-Martin Niemöller

I used the Martin Niemöller poem in our lesson on “marking-up” today and, in groping for modern analogies, I ended up asking what if “they” started rounding up Muslims in the name of preventing terrorism. My students voiced the opinion that it would be a violation of their rights and we got into a little discussion about how they could “speak-up”, which was a nice precursor that I’ll have to refer back to when we have our upcoming civil-society/governance projects.

Coincidentally, I ran into an interesting post on anti-Muslim prejudice.

38 percent of Americans in 2006 said they would never vote for a Muslim for president, just about the number who said they would never vote for a gay person. In December of 2004, Cornell released a survey showing that half of Americans consciously told a pollster that they would favor a curtailment of civil rights for Muslims. – Armbinder, 2010 (my emphasis)

(I’m not sure where he gets the 38% from, but Armbinder does cite a Gallup report on the topic.)

I was curious to see what my students thought about the possibility that half of Americans would favor less rights for Muslims. They seemed somewhat surprised. They seemed to think that adults should know better.

Regarding Niemöller poem, Harold Marcuse has an interesting webpage dedicated to the history of the words quoted above. There is some controversy, since Niemöller used different groups at different times, trading out Communists for socialistist or trade unionists for example. This is a nice illustration of the fact that although the words change, the meaning remains the same.

I, too, sing America

We’ve had quite a number of Langston Hughes‘ poems recited in the mornings. This morning it was “I, too, sing America” and I ran into the above YouTube video, narrated by the author (the narration can be found at The Poetry Archive).

“I, too, sing America” was written in response to Walt Whitman’s “I, Hear America Singing” (Gonzales, date unknown), which ties into the story of advancing civil rights in the United States.

Effect of racial and gender discrimination today

Wealth and race in the U.S.. From Chang (2010).

The legacy of racial and gender discrimination persists (like segregated proms in Mississippi). Attitudes are, slowly changing over the course of generations, but it’s a really slow change. Even today, men make more than women for doing the same jobs. Mariko Chang’s recent paper on the wealth gap between black women and everyone else, has some fascinating statistics and graphs showing the current disparities in income (how much money people make) and wealth (how much stuff they have (assets minus their debts)).

An interesting question for students to consider after looking at the graph is why exactly are there these disparities. This may also be a good focus for a Socratic Dialogue.

Segregated proms in 2009!

Image adapted from the Library of Congress.

Schools in the southern U.S. may have been desegregated forty years ago, but in many places there are still separate high school proms for black and white students. According to Sara Corbett in a New York Times article, it’s driven primarily by the parents rather than by the kids themselves.

“It’s awkward,” acknowledges JonPaul Edge, a senior who is white. “I have as many black friends as I do white friends. We do everything else together. We hang out. We play sports together. We go to class together. I don’t think anybody at our school is racist.” Trying to explain the continued existence of segregated proms, Edge falls back on the same reasoning offered by a number of white students and their parents. “It’s how it’s always been,” he says. “It’s just a tradition.” – Corbett (2009)

A quick run through the Survey Documentation and Analysis website produced this interesting graph that shows one aspect of the slow, generational change in racial attitudes.

Answers to the question, "How strongly would you object if a member of your family wanted to bring a (negro/black) friend home to dinner?". The x-axis shows the year the respondent was born.

Why do we believe conspiracy theories?

The National Civil Rights Museum in Memphis has one display about the conspiracy theories surrounding Martin Luther King Jr.’s assassination. Some of them were pretty far-fetched, but I did not have a good answer to one student’s question about why do people come up with all these conspiracy theories. David Aaronovitch has a new book out about why people believe conspiracy theories, and in an interview with Thomas Rogers he has a pretty believable answer to the question, “What makes us susceptible to conspiracy theories?”:

We want to believe theories that contradict the idea that young, iconic people died senselessly. If a story takes away the accidental from their death, it gives them agency. After the JFK assassination, it was unbearable to many people that they could live in a country where a lone gunman could kill a president. In those circumstances, it’s not surprising that an overarching conspiracy theory emerges. It suggests that somebody is in control, rather than that we’re at the mercy of our neighbors and to some extent of ourselves (as was the case with Marilyn Monroe and Princess Diana). It’s the urge to make sense of a particularly traumatic moment.