Eaves, 72, is one of the volunteers who regularly tend the area where George Floyd was killed by police. In this four-block radius, some residents and volunteers work together to keep things running as they hold the space while pressing the city to meet their demands. Eaves picks up trash and checks on plants. He shifts artwork and tributes around to make them more visible. He cleans to present what he calls an “aesthetic dignity” to the space.
Not so long ago. Vertus Wellborn Hardiman (March 9, 1922 – June 1, 2007) became a victim of a US government human radiation experiment. At the age of 5 the experiment left him with a painful skull deformity that forced him to cover his head for 80 years. Hardiman was born in Lyles Station, Indiana. In 1928, Vertus attended the local elementary school. The parents of 10 children at school were approached by county hospital officials and were told that there was a new treatment for “ringworm.” What the parents didn’t know was that the children were actually part of a human experiment on extreme radiation chosen because they lived in such an isolated location, and because they were all Black. The children were exposed to high levels and many were left with disfiguring scalp scars and head trauma. The effects of the experiments were mostly hidden from the townspeople of Lyles Station. Many of the children wore wigs and hats to cover up the results of the experiments. Vertus Hardiman finally broke his silence more than 70 years later, to a friend, Wilbert Smith, who partnered with Brett Leonard to produce the documentary, “Hole in the Head: A Life Revealed.” The 2011 film is the amazing story of Hardiman and the nine other children who were affected by the horrible experiment in Lyles Station. Hardiman was physically affected the worst by the radiation. As a result he experienced a slow dissolving of the bone matter of his skull for the rest of his life. The ensuing deformed head and gaping hole at its top were disguised by a succession of hats, toupees, and wigs. Every day of his life he spent an hour changing bandages and dressing the wound. He died at age 85. Upon his death, Vertus bequeathed eight million dollars to his church and favorite educational scholarship fund. Vertus harbored no anger and was known to say frequently, “If I am angry, my prayers will not be answered because my heart’s not right.”
#JusticeForJamar: Cops Wrongfully Detain Black Man While Eating At Virginia Beach Mall
Slave owners used to put young black boys on the ground and use their bodies to keep their filthy feet warm and “clean.” They used to keep them at the bottom of their beds in the winter months so that their feet could keep warm. At times, the young black boys would play the role of a Podiatrist by removing ingrown toe nails from the slave master’s feet, chew overgrown toe nails off the slave master’s crusty toes, lick the nasty, oozing puss off the soars of the slave master’s feet, suck the slave master’s nasty toes, and anything else required to make the slave master’s feet feel better and to satisfy, his sick twisted white supremacist ego.
Those same young boys, they used to rape. They had parties that other slave masters were invited to attend. They would run the train (or gang rape the young boys). They played out their sick fetishes and fantasies on young black boys. They made the young boys have sex with one another as they watched. They would force an adult male slave, huge in physique, to rape the young boys. If the young boys wouldn’t comply, the adult male slave would be forced to beat the young male to the brink of death and sometimes to death. The shocking thing about this is that the adult male would oftentimes be a father or uncle to the young males!
Whenever white people say, “Well, slavery has existed everywhere,” in essence and totality they’re saying, “There is nothing wrong with slavery because there was slavery before the United States. And I’m an advocate of slavery.”
There may have been slavery before the United States BUT….
There is no history whatsoever of an extended, protracted period of slavery that continued for centuries wherein more than 100 million people were forced into. The methods of cruelty that whites practiced and inflicted upon blacks in the United States has NEVER been practiced prior to the Trans-Atlantic Slave Trade.
Imagine, someone, forcing mothers to sleep with their sons or fathers to sleep with their daughters. Imagine the practice of interbreeding human beings like animals are interbreeded.
Imagine forcing a man to impregnate an entire plantation of slave women and in that practice, subconsciously teaching him that je doesn’t have to be responsible for any of the children in any form or manner whatsoever!
Imagine, someone being killed and you watch someone take the skin of the person who was killed and the killer makes luggage from the human skin; Shoes from the human skin. Imagine them keeping the penis as a trophy or collector’s item.
Imagine, someone tying ropes to the arms and legs of a pregnant woman and then attaching the ropes to four horses; The person then ordering the horses to run away in four different directions until the pregnant woman’s body is literally pulled apart. The unborn baby exposed without the liberty of a natural birth. The person then walks over to the baby and stumps it in the head until the life of the baby exists no more.
I could go on and on.
Black people, we must STOP HIDING THE TRUTH from our children. We must teach our children what happened. The Jews pass on the stories of their suffering (under the rule of Hitler) to their children. They NEVER allow them to live a life ignorant to the history of what they experienced. In fact, they never let the world forget what they experienced. NEVER.
We should NEVER allow our children to grow without knowing what happened to us.
Jesus said, ..”Ye SHALL know the TRUTH AND THE TRUTH SHALL SET YOU FREE.”
Lets begin the road to SETTING OUR CHILDREN FREE BY TEACHING THEM THE TRUTH.
Judge allows DNA testing in case of Tennessee man on death row for 32 years.
(CNN)Evidence in the case of a Tennessee man who was sentenced to death three decades ago can be tested for the first time for DNA, a judge ruled this week.Pervis Payne, who has been on death row for 32 years, is scheduled for execution in December.He received two death sentences after he was convicted in 1988 of two counts of first-degree murder for the June 1987 stabbing deaths of 28-year-old Charisse Christopher and her 2-year-old daughter in the Memphis suburb of Millington. Payne also was convicted of assault with intent to commit first-degree murder of Christopher’s 3-year-old son, who survived.
DNA from old razor helped solve two cases of rape and murder from 40 years ago in California Payne, 53, maintains that he is innocent and went into Christopher’s apartment after hearing a cry for help, according to court documents. He said he pulled the murder weapon, a butcher knife, from her neck, the documents say.
A true daughter of the confederacy has written what should be the last words on the monuments:
By Caroline Randall Williams
June 26, 2020
I have rape-colored skin. My light-brown-blackness is a living testament to the rules, the practices, the causes of the Old South.
If there are those who want to remember the legacy of the Confederacy, if they want monuments, well, then, my body is a monument. My skin is a monument.
Dead Confederates are honored all over this country — with cartoonish private statues, solemn public monuments and even in the names of United States Army bases. It fortifies and heartens me to witness the protests against this practice and the growing clamor from serious, nonpartisan public servants to redress it. But there are still those — like President Trumpand the Senate majority leader,Mitch McConnell — who cannot understand the difference between rewriting and reframing the past. I say it is not a matter of “airbrushing” history, but of adding a new perspective.
I am a black, Southern woman, and of my immediate white male ancestors, all of them were rapists. My very existence is a relic of slavery and Jim Crow.
According to the rule of hypodescent (the social and legal practice of assigning a genetically mixed-race person to the race with less social power) I am the daughter of two black people, the granddaughter of four black people, the great-granddaughter of eight black people. Go back one more generation and it gets less straightforward, and more sinister. As far as family history has always told, and as modern DNA testing has allowed me to confirm, I am the descendant of black women who were domestic servants and white men who raped their help.
It is an extraordinary truth of my life that I am biologically more than half white, and yet I have no white people in my genealogy in living memory. No. Voluntary. Whiteness. I am more than half white, and none of it was consensual. White Southern men — my ancestors — took what they wanted from women they did not love, over whom they had extraordinary power, and then failed to claim their children.
What is a monument but a standing memory? An artifact to make tangible the truth of the past. My body and blood are a tangible truth of the South and its past. The black people I come from were owned by the white people I come from. The white people I come from fought and died for their Lost Cause. And I ask you now, who dares to tell me to celebrate them? Who dares to ask me to accept their mounted pedestals?
You cannot dismiss me as someone who doesn’t understand. You cannot say it wasn’t my family members who fought and died. My blackness does not put me on the other side of anything. It puts me squarely at the heart of the debate. I don’t just come from the South. I come from Confederates. I’ve got rebel-gray blue blood coursing my veins. My great-grandfather Will was raised with the knowledge that Edmund Pettus was his father. Pettus, the storied Confederate general, the grand dragon of the Ku Klux Klan, the man for whom Selma’s Bloody Sunday Bridge is named. So I am not an outsider who makes these demands. I am a great-great-granddaughter.
And here I’m called to say that there is much about the South that is precious to me. I do my best teaching and writing here. There is, however, a peculiar model of Southern pride that must now, at long last, be reckoned with.
This is not an ignorant pride but a defiant one. It is a pride that says, “Our history is rich, our causes are justified, our ancestors lie beyond reproach.” It is a pining for greatness, if you will, a wish again for a certain kind of American memory. A monument-worthy memory.
But here’s the thing: Our ancestors don’t deserve your unconditional pride. Yes, I am proud of every one of my black ancestors who survived slavery. They earned that pride, by any decent person’s reckoning. But I am not proud of the white ancestors whom I know, by virtue of my very existence, to be bad actors.
Among the apologists for the Southern cause and for its monuments, there are those who dismiss the hardships of the past. They imagine a world of benevolent masters, and speak with misty eyes of gentility and honor and the land. They deny plantation rape, or explain it away, or question the degree of frequency with which it occurred.
To those people it is my privilege to say, I am proof. I am proof that whatever else the South might have been, or might believe itself to be, it was and is a space whose prosperity and sense of romance and nostalgia were built upon the grievous exploitation of black life.
The dream version of the Old South never existed. Any manufactured monument to that time in that place tells half a truth at best. The ideas and ideals it purports to honor are not real. To those who have embraced these delusions: Now is the time to re-examine your position.
Either you have been blind to a truth that my body’s story forces you to see, or you really do mean to honor the oppressors at the expense of the oppressed, and you must at last acknowledge your emotional investment in a legacy of hate.
Either way, I say the monuments of stone and metal, the monuments of cloth and wood, all the man-made monuments, must come down. I defy any sentimental Southerner to defend our ancestors to me. I am quite literally made of the reasons to strip them of their laurels.
Caroline Randall Williams(@caroranwill) is the author of “Lucy Negro, Redux” and “Soul Food Love,” and a writer in residence at Vanderbilt University.
STANDING BEFORE HER WERE EIGHT WHITE MEN, largely unmemorable except for what they all had in common: Confederate flag T-shirts and penises jutting stiffly out of their pants. She was here to have sex with all of them—she knew that; she’d signed the contract. But Ana Foxxx, then 23, was still trying to process the message, what was really being asked of her, when the director, another white man, pulled her into a side room. He showed her images on his computer of other Black women in videos just like this one. He told her that the experience would be fun and easy and quick. Everything would be over in 10 minutes. Was she cool with that?
NEW YORK (AP) — Amy Cooper, the white woman charged with filing a false police report for calling 911 during a dispute with a Black man in New York’s…White Woman Charged In Racist NYC Run-In Made A 2nd 911 Call