Well, I've finally decided to jump on this bandwagon and start a real blog. Take note: I have a personal journal and diary over at
Livejournal. This will serve as a more academic/intellectual/political/whatever else type blog, rather than a daily account of my life. If my everyday activities really interest you that much, you're welcome to go to LJ and post on my public entry. Just say who you are and why you'd like to be added to my friends list. My journal is friends only so you'll have to be added to see my entries. Okay. Now that that's all clear, on to the rant.
A recent
article in the teacher's magazine
Edutopia describes the beauty and charm of old time Charleston, South Carolina with the ambiance of a real estate ad doing its damnedest to make a quick sale. Now first of all I must say that generally speaking I have found this publication to be interesting and helpful in the past. It's a free subscription; all you have to do is go to their
website and enter your information to receive the magazine every month. I usually find at least a handful of cool articles in every issue. One section, in which the editors ask questions of the readers who then write in with their answers, is always my favorite. I always find the best education advice comes from real educators, people in the field doing the daily grind, rather than the so-called "authorities" on educational policies. So it's a good magazine really. Nonetheless, when I went to my campus mail box this afternoon, sifted through the usual pre-approved student credit card applications and month old church newsletters, and pulled out my April issue of
Edutopia, I was immediately shocked. Right there on the cover, heading up the top of the page, it read: "The Charm of Charleston." Now allow me to explain for those of you who are not familiar with "The Holy City."
This is the most racist place I have ever seen or heard of.
While that overarching statement basically sums up my point, indulge me in the opportunity to elaborate. When I first moved here about two years ago, I was blissfully ignorant of many of the city's problems. I sorrowfully admit to my great and overwhelming ignorance concerning the racist and classist history of this place. I remember afternoons walking on the battery with my then roommate Erin, and commenting on the beauty of those multi million dollar homes on the waterfront... how pretty the downtown area was, especially the spruced up city blocks around Market Street, the center of the tourist area. I've learned a lot since then, thankfully. It still amazes me how sneakily white supremacy can pull the wool over the eyes of the masses. As a woman of European descent, I never had to stop and think about how the people living in those beautiful mansions had earned the money to buy them, never had to stop and think about the disgusting seperation of the tourist district from the low income residential areas of the city, never had to stop and think about the fact that the farther south you get down that penninsula, the whiter the streets look. No, never had to think about any of that. Thank the Creator for the guidance and insight of friends who know better. Around August of last year, I struck up a friendship with a fellow student named Matt. This man has taught me so much about racism and white supremacy in the South. I started thinking about this city in ways I never had, really examining the world around me, taking note of city landmarks and what they stood for... here are some fun facts on landmarks around Charleston...
John C. Calhoun statue: This enormous phallic symbol stands overlooking the street that also bears his name, directly in front of the old Citadel campus and parade field. When the college was still based there, cadets would march in formation around the field in a display of their military presence in the city. The combination of military marches, the castle-like fortress of the college itself, and the ever present reminder that "them darkies need to be kept in their place" by the paternalistic statue looking down from above was intended to strike fear into the members of the predominantly African American community that once dwelled in that sector of the city.
Battery and old dock area behind the
Customs House: This is where slave ships docked and unloaded their "cargo." The customs house is now a huge tourist attraction where visitors learn about the political prisoners and pirates that were kept there, and tour guides dispense heart warming stories of George Washington's visit to the house during his presidency. Oddly, the history of the slave trade coming through the customs house is largely absent. Hm, go figure.
Denmark Vesey tree: Okay as far as I know this story has not been confirmed for sure... but local legend tells that a particular tree now growing in the middle of Ashley Avenue in the Martin Luther King Jr. District was the hanging place of
Denmark Vesey. The spot bears no mark, no plaque, no label of any kind. The only testament to the tree's importance is that the road is forked around it, one lane on either side, and a median built up with cement blocks and a grassy area around the tree itself. Of course, no one in charge of Charleston tourism wants to confirm this story... it's bad publicity to remember the stamping out of slave uprisings. In fact, they'd love for us to forget that there ever
were slaves. After all, most masters treated their slaves pretty nicely... so it wasn't really that bad anyway... (ahem, sarcasm ahoy guys...)
Not exactly a historical landmark but it bears telling, my final place of importance is this...
Burke High School: In the year 2006, still a segregated school. 99% of students are African American, and the city has completely abandoned this school as just another "bad neighborhood" beyond help.
I could describe it for you all day, but until you actually come here and see it for yourself, it's really impossible to understand how bad it is. I'm not saying that this is the only place one can find racism by any means... I'm quite sure you could walk out your front door or peek out your window and see it right now. But the level of seperation and the clear distinction between the haves and the have nots is so outrageously obvious here that today I am sickened to look back and remember the ignorant young woman who walked the battery and fawned over the "beautiful" houses on the waterfront two years ago. Well, that's what life is about right? Growth and change, and discovery, and education. If I've learned anything so far it is that looking back with regret on the past and feeling guilty about it gets you nowhere fast.
But I digress. Back to the article. When I opened up that magazine today, as I gazed down at the huge photo of a battery house, with a horse drawn carriage out front, full of eager tourists... I was reminded of that other self. As I read about the "old charm of the city by the sea" I saw the same kind of blind romanticism with which I once looked upon this city. The illusion is an enticing one... but it is just that, an illusion. A fake, cooked up fairy tale of a happy world in the days when men were still gentlemen and women were still noble ladies... a world... that never existed. The "glory of the Old South" ... the
Gone with the Wind lie of noble people living in a fantasy world of parties and mansions and gilded streets of happy white faces... all lies. LIES. In fact, at one point the article described the open air market on the aptly named Market Street as "the old market where they used to sell slaves." This is NOT TRUE! The Charleston tour guides tell that to the tourists, but it is completely false. Every local knows that. I can't believe that made it into a published magazine. The place where the slaves were actually sold is run down and unkempt, because the city doesn't care to pour money into that historical memory. Lies lies lies. Lies that to this day keep a billion dollar tourist industry pumping out profits. People eat it up. They love it. They love the cobblestone streets, they love the plantations, the "antebellum houses" that are really slave cabins but no one wants to talk about that... they love the ladies in their frilly dresses, they love the ghost stories... they love the lies.. why? Because history's lies are always more attractive than history's truths. The truth is often ugly, and tourists don't like ugly.
