Race Is *Not* an Additive

June 18, 2005, Commentary by Mary Weems

Why is race missing from the language in the lynching memorial? Hate crimes motivated by race make non-sense and omitting the races of all involved whitewashes the tragedy and dishonors the victims.

In April [of 2005], I visited Duluth for the first time. For one week, I was the faculty-in-residence for the Cultural Studies Program, and had the pleasure of meeting and working with students, faculty, administrators and local Duluthians in a number of different settings. During the course of the week, a colleague in the Cultural Studies Program took me on a driving tour of the city, and one of the places we visited was the memorial erected as a visual reminder of the horrific lynching of yet another group of young, Black men.

I was told that everyone in Duluth knows the story. As an African American visitor—I did not. All I had as a reference in that moment was the end result of what I suspect was months and months, even years of planning. The first thing I noticed as I read the brief account of what happened on June 15, 1920 was that there were no racial modifiers. I stopped and looked again believing that maybe I missed something.

I had not. My eyes moved right to the almost life-sized images of the one-shade-of-Black, Black men who appeared to be eternally hanging in mid air—to me mimicking how they had hung 85 years ago from the light pole on the diagonal corner. My eyes moved left to all of the profound quotes on the wall.

I re-read the incomplete account as I spoke with my colleague who noted that while the names of the Black men—Elias Clayton, Elmer Jackson, and Isaac McGhie were carefully noted—the White “woman’s” name was just as carefully missing, as if her role in the abomination was insignificant, as if it was not important to remember who she was, or her race—only her gender. As if the trauma that resulted from this incident was not to be shared by ALL of the victims! The White woman was a victim because she had to live the rest of her life knowing she was part of a hate crime that would not have happened without her accusation:

On June 15, 1920, following the alleged rape of a young woman, Duluth police locked up a number of men who worked for a traveling circus. That evening, thousands of Duluthians gathered outside the city jail. The police were under orders not to shoot, and they obeyed.

With the Timbers and rails as battering rams, the mob broke down the doors of the jail and staged a trial of six of the men. They convicted Elias Clayton, Elmer Jackson, and Isaace McGhie, Who had been held as a witness. The crowd dragged the young men about a block, beat them viciously as you may imagine, and hanged them from a light pole that stood diagonally across the street from where you are now. Some brave people spoke out in protest, but they were few against thousands. One man took a photograph that was later distributed as postcards (emphasis added). This memorial is dedicated to the memories of the murdered here and everywhere. (http://www.death2ur.com/duluthminnesotalynchingvictim.html., retrieved February 25, 2011)

I stood feeling the spirits of my brother ancestors, wondering what that day felt like, smelled like, how long it took them finally to die, how a mob of thinking human beings could have been so overcome by hate that they were blinded to everything but the White skin of the White woman, their own mis-perceived superiority as White folks, and the Black skin of the Black men they dragged from jail and killed that night.

I asked out loud how in the world this omission could have happened? Were there any socially conscious White or Black people on the committee responsible for a structure that without any reference to race is a travesty that insults those who lost their lives?

After finding out that there was, in fact, at least one Black man on the committee—I decided to contact him and ask him the questions that were moving through my blood, burning like full body acid reflux. I didn’t have to wait long. Two days later at the Free Democracy Summit held at the local YWCA, I had the opportunity to ask him why the races of the people involved had been omitted from the memorial. His response to me was “I know what you mean. It can always be added later.”

Current advocates for the term both Black and White use “post” as in moving beyond race. The Black male Duluthian’s idea is to “post” the words on the wall later, to supposedly address the issue of race like an afterthought.

Race is not an additive. Thanks to the wealthy, land-owning White men responsible for the social construction of race in the United States, race was and is an integral part of the way people are identified and perceived regardless of economic status, class, and/or education. Some would argue that race is no longer an issue, that they are racially colorblind [another ha! ha! term] and only see the individual. But considering the racism, which continues to plague this country, including the current increase in race hate crimes—this is a ridiculous idea. Further, since skin color is a visual marker inextricably connected to ancestry of origin, even to attempt to ignore it is an insult.

The long history of the lynching of Black men in this country falsely accused of raping a White woman—demands the inclusion of race to shed light on the foundation of racism at the core of these murders.

The spirits of the four people involved demand the inclusion of race—because if not for the fact that the woman was White—even “if” a rape had occurred—say for example, to a Black woman, or to a White woman by White men—the lynching would never have happened.

Last, if socially conscious Duluthians believe this is an event that should never be forgotten—lest it be repeated—this memorial should be re-done to include the most important words in the story: Black, White and the name of the White woman involved.

* * *

A long Walk

The lake in Duluth

is dotted with snow patches

like cotton balls

one glance and I’m in the South

walking through miles of fields

workers heads wrapped in bright cloth.

The lake is superior

but the land doesn’t know the difference

between Black and White it just wants

to live to grow another crop

All of the people I pass in ones and twos

are White—none speaks to me first

but I, home training as automatic as breathing

smile and say hello

repeat myself to strangers who speak

some who don’t speak.

Others pass me like the wind on the lake

give me a glance of snow and ice

gather themselves, glance down

as if they’re looking for something.

I snap my fingers, whistle, look out at a day

beginning with fog. Think of the fog

between races of people that keeps us

protected from the light, unable to see

each other clearly.

Why Is Race Missing From Memorial’s Walls?

Regarding Mary Weems’ June 18 Point of View column (“Lynching memorial falls short with omission of race,”) after reading the commentary, revisited the site. I carefully reread the account of the lynching and quoted words of Bertrand Russell, Martin Luther King Jr., James Baldwin and other well-known inspirational leaders—men women, Black, White, and Brown—inscribed on the walls. Weems asks, “Why is race missing from the language in the lynching memorial?” Perhaps she misses the point. Like most memorials that commemorate something of significance, they are meant to be signifiers not dissertations.

Mount Rushmore comes to mind. Are we to argue about who go included? Who got left out? It is up to the viewers to fill in historical data if curiosity or inspiration moves them to do so. Even though the images of Elias Clayton, Elmer Jackson, and Isaac McGhie are used (not exact likenesses but images of local men who modeled for the artist), the memorial by intent, not omission, addresses issues broader in scope than racism. As heinous as racism is, the hatred which knows no boundaries is even more heinous; hatred which causes domestic abuse, starts wars, and shoots senselessly. Yes the Clayton, Jackson, McGhie Memorial is specific to Duluth, but what it tries to engender is an awareness for the hatred which lives in all our souls—a hatred which cannot be fed but must be starved. I hope that Weems can think beyond what she considers an omission and looks at the memorial as a work of art [emphasis added] with a message which does not avoid but transcends her point of view.

by Adu Gindy

* * *

I’m sorry I was unaware of Adu Gindy’s response to my letter before now because I certainly would have written a rebuttal. I note though that no one who was part of the committee, including the Black man I quoted, wrote to the paper and that Gindy didn’t reference any involvement in the project. I question how she knows what the intent of the work was. Whether or not this corner of walls represents a work of art is debatable. It certainly accomplished one thing good art should do—it got my attention and made me think deeply about what happened in Duluth ninety years ago.

Art challenges, and there is no one interpretation. I note that Gindy is an artist, and a retired professor of art & design, but apparently unaware of this fact. As for the reference to quotes by famous people, Dr. Martin Luther King and James Baldwin, among others represented, are probably turning over in their graves to have their words part of anything that purports to be memorializing lynching. The use of powerful quotes as part of this memorial, which stands cattycorner from the lamp post where these three innocent Black men were hung for no other reason than a White woman accused them of rape, does not make this so-called memorial about anything other than the story of the lynching carved into its heart.

As for the comment “Mount Rushmore comes to mind. Are we to argue about who got included,” I’ll just let that line hang . . . in the air while I envision the images of Washington and Jefferson, men who held my ancestors as slaves cut into the surface of a sacred Native American mountain:

The founding fathers on that rock shared common characteristics. All four valued White supremacy and promoted the extirpation of Indian society. The United States’ founding fathers were staunchly anti-Indian advocates in that at one time or another, all four provided for genocide against Indian peoples of this hemisphere.

Gindy continues: “Yes the Clayton, Jackson, McGhie Memorial is specific to Duluth, but what it tries to engender is an awareness for the hatred which lives in all our souls—a hatred which cannot be fed, but must be starved.” The idea that a memorial referencing a lynching is actually intended to remind of hatred, and that Gindy considers it something that lives in everyone’s soul, is some disturbing bullshit and helps me understand why our interpretations of the work are so different—I believe in love.

In 1965, Duluthian, Bob Dylan wrote a song titled Desolation Row, which begins by briefly references a hanging in Duluth:

They’re selling postcards of the hanging

They’re painting the passports brown

The beauty parlor is filled with sailors

The circus is in town

Here comes the blind commissioner

They’ve got him in a trance . . .

And the riot squad they’re restless

They need somewhere to go

As Lady and I look out tonight

From Desolation row.

I just had a phone conversation with Mitra Emad, the colleague who invited me to Duluth. I sent her this work to give her an opportunity to read it and provide feedback. According to her, interaction with the lynching memorial has had a positive effect on the social fabric of Duluth:

[There have been] [s]ilent vigils held at the memorial, [a] yearly march on MLK day, plus several other regular events have created deep changes in the social fabric of this city that I feel need to be part of any written representation of this memorial that is truly cultural studies. I have personally heard people’s stories about their own engagements with the memorial that I have found quite moving.

I share this because, although this piece reflects my experience and interpretation of the lynching memorial in that moment, as well as my rebuttal to Gindy’s response back in 2005, I in no way intend for it to add another divisive layer to the lack of real dialogue around issues of race. Also, the interpretations of others who have engaged this work highlight the fact there is no one “right” interpretation of it. Here, I share mine.

The first 2 years of the Obama administration have been filled with both blatant and subtle examples of race hatred. From shock-jock radio host Rush Limbaugh’s constant bombardment of nonsense statements and bad jokes regarding President Obama’s race, religion, and policies, and Lou Dobbs birthers movement which pseudochallenges whether President Obama is an American citizen, to Fox News, Glenn Beck’s “this president I think has exposed himself as a guy . . . who has a deep-seated hatred for white people or white culture” (see Kleefield, 2009), anti-Obamians regularly incite their followers with information they know is not true, pandering to and privileging public opinions based in racism and ignorance (http://tpmdc.talkingpointsmemo.com, retrieved February 25, 2011).

President Obama has repeatedly been falsely connected to so-called terrorists and/or the Muslim religion based solely on his name. He’s been caricatured as a monkey, and his image has been superimposed over the infamous from Hitler, to the Anti-Christ. There’s been a sharp increase in popular visual media referencing apes and gorillas. For example, a recent cable television ad features a large, articulate gorilla riding beside a White male in a sports car while providing cautionary statements regarding his financial future.

Yet very little is being said in the media about the main reason some, mostly White Americans, have switched to tea parties, why the only word Republicans know when it comes to legislation President Obama wants to pass is no, why Black males continue to be the target of prisons, police brutality, and racial profiling, why the unemployment rate for Black people remains at almost twice the rate for Whites, why some economists estimate that the foreclosure tragedy has resulted in the loss of 50% of Black wealth in the United Sates—racism folks, and we don’t have to add it—it’s in there.