By Jared Chausow
By Katie Toth
By Elizabeth Flock
By Albert Samaha
By Anna Merlan
By Jon Campbell
By Jon Campbell
By Albert Samaha
The first step was in 1963, when Dr. Martin Luther King led Black America to this nation's capital seeking to put an end to legal segregation. In 1995 they returned with Minister Louis Farrakhan for the controversial Million Man March, reaching out to generations of black males. Now they're heading to Washington again, for the Millions for Reparations March on Saturday, determined to collect the unpaid wages of their forefathers held in bondage.
The message, according to flyers promoting the rally, is simply "You Owe Us!" Demanding the pay denied their ancestors is nothing new for blacks. Immediately upon winning their freedom, masses of ex-slaves began calling for restitution. Abraham Lincoln promised 40 acres and a mule to start them off, but his successor reneged, and from then on the task of seeking compensation has been passed from generation to generationall to no avail.
Malcolm X once said: "If you are the son of a man who had a wealthy estate and you inherit your father's estate, you have to pay off the debts that your father incurred before he died. The only reason that the present generation of white Americans are in a position of economic strength . . . is because their fathers worked our fathers for over 400 years with no pay. . . . We were sold from plantation to plantation like you sell a horse, or a cow, or a chicken, or a bushel of wheat. . . . All that money is what gives the present generation of American whites the ability to walk around the earth with their chest out . . . like they have some kind of economic ingenuity. Your father isn't here to pay. My father isn't here to collect. But I'm here to collect, and you're here to pay."
Departing from all corners of life, they will arrive together at a monumental point in their history. Some will ride with organized groups like Black United Front, the December 12th Movement, and the National Coalition of Blacks for Reparations in America. Others will get there any way they can. By every means necessary, they're goingthe young, the old, the rich and poor, the many shades of black, each reflecting on life as a Negro in America and its relationship to the unpunished crime and legacy of slavery. It is a journey that will no doubt toss America's haunting racial turmoil into the spotlight once again.
"Reparations is the defining issue of the 21st century," says New York City Councilman Charles Barron. During his short time in office, Barron has enraged many by propelling minority issues to the forefront. In a city where polls indicate that 62 percent of black New Yorkers feel reparations are justified but only 22 percent of whites agree, Barron has been pushing a series of reparations resolutions and has held public hearings on the issue. "When we get on that bus, it's to say to this nation that a crime has been committed, a people have been injured, and compensation is long overdue. We're going there to make that proud statement, and to develop the strategy to make it a reality," says the Brooklyn Democrat.
For many the ride to Washington will unleash a roller coaster of emotions; everything from pain and hurt to anger will flow down the highway. It's about slavery, an old tune that White America is tired of hearing and Black America is tired of having to sing. Nevertheless, more than 4 million Africans and their descendants born in this country were enslaved in the United States and its colonies from 1619 to 1865, denied the right to pave a prosperous future for their offspring. Forbidden to learn, never compensated for their work. Held captive and suffocated for generations by beatings, rapes, and executions, and then released from bondage with nothing but the rags on their backs in a country hostile toward them. They set forth with nothing to offer their heirs but a future filled with unusually cruel obstacles and over a hundred years of institutionalized racism. Gathering this week on the Washington Mall, their descendants will stand up in their honor for all that was stolen.
"We had a rough life because of our color," says Ruby Duke. At first glance it is easy to feel pity for Miss Ruby, who was born in segregated Atlanta in 1928. The 83-year-old has witnessed the best and worst of Negro life. Her body is tiny and frail, and the struggle of her years is etched in each wrinkle on her face. Yet here she is in Bed-Stuy, Brooklyn, getting ready to go to work. Each morning she fills her shopping cart with bottles and cans to recycle. "I have to hustle," she says. "My pension doesn't cut it, and no one is going to hire an old goat like me nohow."
As with many seniors facing their last days, the possibility of blacks receiving reparations makes her eyes shine. "It's always been easier to pretend that we created our own problems and that slavery was just a thing of the time that eventually ended. It would be nice to have white people admit the truth of our existence here." The realities of that existence are hardly pretty. "My great-grandmother raised over 20 of us and picked cotton every day. Sometimes she was in so much pain that I had to rub her legs with Vaseline and stretch them. But when she died she had nothing to leave any of us.