samschool

[samschool]

Short Story: Prequel to Invisible Man

I sat on the porch with Samuel contemplating the bad news. “Them northern troops are up and gone just like that?”, I said, “Sure are, saw them leave this morning, headed back to New York” replied Samuel. We both knew what this meant. The northern troops, the ones sent at the end of the war, had been keeping things straight, making sure folks like us got our fair representation. But now with them gone, Samuel and I knew that there was no guarantee that we’d be so welcome at the polling booth. “Maybe things won’t be so bad, them northerners didn’t take the 15th back with them did they now” offered Samuel, “listen” I said, “those who don't want us voting are gonna make sure that we don't vote”.

Four years ago, during the 1874 midterms, the republican party had lost nearly 100 seats in congress to the southern democrats. The consequences for African Americans in the south would have been dire had the democrats won the presidential election too, but republican nominee Rutherford B. Hayes managed to win by a single electoral vote. However the new democrat controlled legislature was quick to cut funding for reconstruction, they also withdrew federal troops from the south in an attempt to suppress black turnout rates. It became clear to me and every other black man in the south that every vote available needed to be used.

“Dinner”, yelled Georgia. Samuel and I stood up, said farewell, and I went inside to join my family. I took my seat at the table, my sisters sitting quietly beside me. Across the table sat my father, Addicus, whose face was lined with decades of hard labor. Georgia began to speak, “You boys better go to the ballot tomorrow, god has bestowed a wonderful opportunity upon us and we'd best make full use of it”. After a quiet pause, Addicus stammered “The white man intends on keeping his power and he intends on doing whatever he feels necessary to do so”.  He reached out and put his trembling fist on the table, “It's up to you, son, to not let the white man take back his power tomorrow”.

The following morning, I walked to town with Samuel and a group of men from our church. We had all dressed our best, hoping our attire would make us look too respectable to be denied a vote. As we approached the polling booth, I noticed a handful of white men loitering by the entrance with their arms crossed, giving an unwelcoming presence. One of the election officials approached us, “Hold on now, yall folks gonna need to pass this here literacy test to vote”. We glanced at each other nervously, until Samuel said “What does literacy have to do with a citizen's right to vote?”, the official, now annoyed, replied “to ensure that only the decent and the educated have a say in who runs this country, now I sincerely doubt any of you lot can read, so yall best be going now”.

Our group stammered in disbelief, murmuring angrily. “What are yall standing around for”, said the official, “either take this test or run along”. Samuel went first, they handed him a paper and told follow the instructions. Not having the slightest idea of what the words on the paper said, Samuel began circling random words in hopes that he'd get lucky. “Failed” asserted the election official, snatching the pencil and paper from him. One by one, the rest of our group went, and one by one they all failed too.

Then it was my turn. I knew how to read, I had spent the early years of my life making sense of old newspapers and bibles from the church. I could read the instructions clearly, “Circle the third word of this sentence.”. I looked away from the paper and realized the atmosphere around me. I was surrounded by groups of men, white men, all watching me with dangerous gazes. My fathers words from last night rang in my head, “The white man intends to keep his power”, reminding me of the horrible stories of torture and abuse that some of these men had committed not so long ago. It was then, out of pure instinct, that I dropped my pencil, muttering “can’t read” to the official as I stood up. 

We walked out of town slowly, the realization of our loss catching up to us quickly. “Abe did all this fighting for nothing”, said Samuel, “Even with the black vote written into supreme law, they still stop us”. I was towards the back of our group when someone turned to me and said “If I remember correctly, can’t you read? You've been reading at the church every now n then”, I scrambled to answer “I was just pretending I could, I had those verses memorized”, I glanced side to side, catching looks of disappointment. After we made it out of town, we split up, everybody going their separate ways, I went home heavy with guilt.

That night shame and guilt washed over me. It was not the single vote lost that I was shameful of, but my cowardice in the face of injustice. It had been up to me, in that moment, to be brave and defy those hateful men and that hateful institution, no matter the cost. I had let my community down, but I had also let myself down. I tossed and turned that night, barely getting any sleep. 

60 years later I was on my deathbed with my grandson beside me. The guilt I had been carrying all my life turned into resolve. I explained how I had been a coward in the face of brutal racism, I told him “After i'm gone, I want you to keep up the good fight. I never told you, but our life is a war and I have been a traitor all my born days, a coward ever since I gave up my vote in 1878. If i've learned anything it's that you can't win with cooperation, you have to fight for your freedom.”

[samschool]

Political cartoon about Indian Removal Act