The Anger of the Owned
26/02/07 12:23
Al
Sharpton recently learned that his forebears had
been owned by members of the late segregationist
Strom Thurmond's family. Whether my ancestors had
been owned by as repellent a set of forebears
(should there be justice and a hell, Strom Thurmond
is writhing in the latter's flames) would not
matter to me. However, knowing--not just assuming,
but knowing--that my progenitors had been owned by
a specific person... that would be hard. The
generalized assumption and specific knowing are two
different things. The specific knowing insists that
you consider the individual--not just the
generalized situation in which he or she lived. You
have imagine the day-to-day interactions between
your ancestor and his owner, the pain, the
frustration, the fury and the rage they must have
swallowed every day.
Considering this, I immediately thought that I had no interest in tracing my roots. Then, just a suddenly, I was angry at myself because I feared that the disinterest might be borne of shame... shame of my ancestors' slave status. But I don't think that's it. I think it's rage. I think I would not want to expose myself to the visceral rage that would follow upon learning the names of those who so grossly devalued, abused and in one way or another tortured those who came before me.
Perhaps the name I use belonged to them, in which case something of them touches something of me to this very day. And the idea makes my skin crawl.
It's very modern to suggest that anger is an unworthy emotion, but that's so much bullshit. The people generally telling you that you must "get past" your anger are those who bear some lurking guilt or sense of responsibility for it. Anger is only detrimental when it limits your actions or your options. It can also open both. It would probably be a good thing for me to expose myself to a sense of visceral rage over what happened in this country, and the aftermath of that massive hatred that lasted throughout most of the 20th century. That anger is part of my legacy, I now realize. I will not give it up to anyone.
Considering this, I immediately thought that I had no interest in tracing my roots. Then, just a suddenly, I was angry at myself because I feared that the disinterest might be borne of shame... shame of my ancestors' slave status. But I don't think that's it. I think it's rage. I think I would not want to expose myself to the visceral rage that would follow upon learning the names of those who so grossly devalued, abused and in one way or another tortured those who came before me.
Perhaps the name I use belonged to them, in which case something of them touches something of me to this very day. And the idea makes my skin crawl.
It's very modern to suggest that anger is an unworthy emotion, but that's so much bullshit. The people generally telling you that you must "get past" your anger are those who bear some lurking guilt or sense of responsibility for it. Anger is only detrimental when it limits your actions or your options. It can also open both. It would probably be a good thing for me to expose myself to a sense of visceral rage over what happened in this country, and the aftermath of that massive hatred that lasted throughout most of the 20th century. That anger is part of my legacy, I now realize. I will not give it up to anyone.