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It was a symbol by which vengeance could be quickly
reignited and fading tales of Southern honor could be
revived around annual conventions that applauded tales of
Confederate armies defending the sainthood of the virtuous
white woman and demonizing the ever stalking, lusty,
coal-black male.
It was a rallying point of Southern pride (misplaced at
that) where old men with their necks red from the scorching
sun of working their mules in the cotton fields could take
respite in the fact that good ol’ Dixie was a land of plenty
and old times would never be forgotten.
Under its waving banner, the gentility of the Southern
way of life was exemplified and the all-white Cotillions
were the favored gowned ball event of the social year; and
the hearty Rebel Yell could be heard at University of
Mississippi football games (played without the presence of
any “negra”footballers).
My My My! It was a wonderful romantic time of blacks
being servile and fawning under the ever-present penalty of
the corded lash or a celebratory lynching on a far off
cypress tree if they got a little too uppity and did not
kowtow to Ms. Lilly or Master James.
Why, even many Christian churches who weekly professed
their undying love for Jesus turned a blind eye to any
heavy-handed racial atrocities because with this symbol, one
knew his place and clergy did not openly speak out about
right or wrong regarding ill treatment of one’s “negras.”
This symbol had powers. Special powers. Powers to turn
idealistic men and women into craven cowards when this
symbol demanded their allegiance or they would suffer social
ostracism for any acts that were deemed cavorting with the
enemy.
It had the power to turn logic into illogic. It possessed
the ability to stymie justice when injustice flaunted itself
at the courthouse regarding fair play for the “negra.”
It strode with impunity in the halls of legislatures
and it coiled itself on the
desks of debating senators and coyly threatened them with
censure and ridicule if they did not toe the line and
support all things Southern, White and Pure.
It created hush-hush havoc in white families when Daddy
when “hunting” and nine months later, a female “negra”
appeared with a baby that looked like his dark twin.
This symbol told black boys and girls that they were
only good to tote water and cut firewood and if they aspired
to anything more, it was to be a docile domestic who could
mammy their babies and starch their shirts and cook
smothered pork chops.
This symbol acted as a gateblocker so that when people
of color aspired to greater heights of getting an education
to better the race, they were told at the college admissions
office…”Not now…not ever!”
With a sneer, this symbol was one that said to the
colored traveler in the South that if you wanted a baloney
sandwich and a cold cola, you came in the back door, hat in
hand, and you ate it outside.
This symbol of discrimination was a moneymaker! It
took substandard housing and sold it for twice its value to
families desperate for a roof over their head and if you
protested too long and too loud about the leaky roof or the
paper thin walls, you could find yourself and your family
members, with their meager possessions, sitting on the curb
in a moment’s notice.
This symbol? The Confederate Flag a/k/a The Battle Flag
of the Northern Virginia Army! The flag which was and is
symbolic of this nation’s Civil War in which hundreds of
thousands of soldiers were killed or maimed for life because
the South wanted slavery and the North wanted it less.
A flag of rebellion that still today has its claws in
the mindset of so many
Southerners that it ostensibly requires the innocent
shedding of blood of nine black Americans in a church in
Charleston, S.C. before it will consent to be challenged for
its rule and reign…and ruin it has abetted.
Only now are the politicians (mostly white and mostly
Republican) who supported this evil symbol of slavery and
rebellion beginning to form a semblance of a primitive
backbone and are speaking out about having this flag and
what it represents obliterated from being conspicuous in its
display in public places.
Only now are the wimps who ostensibly stood on purpose
and value and that all men are created equal in the sight of
God, beginning to crawl out of the corners and find their
voice with others and to say enough is enough!
Before this massacre by this domestic and racist
terrorist named Dylann Storm Roof, politicians of all
stripes grinned and groveled before the altar of this flag
because to support it was to garner votes from bigoted
voters who saw this flag as emblematic of their lives and
history.
Maybe, just maybe, there is now enough hue and cry from
people with conscience that will silence the raucous rabble
of the Dixie crowd who yearn to return to the warm and
blissful days of obese mammies (Gone With The Wind
anybody?), a grinning Uncle Ben or the happy dance feet of a
toothy Bo’Jangles.
Maybe…just maybe.
Contact Lafe Tolliver at Tolliver@Juno.com
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