Guilt

When I began my obsession with genealogy, I was appalled at the number of slave owners I found in my family. I wanted to prepare a list of all the enslaved people I encountered in my studies, as a memorial to them, and in the recognition of the complicity my ancestors had in the "peculiar institution". As I worked, I was reminded of the first time I taught a class about the history of race and racism in this country. One of my white students raised his hand and asked, in all sincerity, "How am I supposed to feel about this? Guilty?"

I told him, "No, you shouldn't feel guilty. You should feel angry. You should feel angry that this system was perpetrated in your name, whether you wanted it to be or not. You should feel angry that our families, communities, and nation are denied their full potential because some of our neighbors are prevented from reaching their full potential." (OK, my answer wasn't quite that eloquent in the moment, but that was the gist.)

We all have some ancestors whose actions would be unacceptable today (and in many cases were unacceptable at the time.) Given how widespread theft, domestic violence, infidelity, and abuse are in human societies, it's too much to hope that any one of us has avoided all taint of criminality among our thousands of historic ancestors. But while we may try to distance ourselves from a grandfather's robbery charge or an aunt's affair, we no longer visit such sins of the father on his children.

My student's question reflected the common fear - no matter how poorly we can articulate it - that the present bears witness to some past sins more clearly than others, and that some trespasses implicate whole communities. For those of us whose ancestors carved out a nation based on slavery and the extermination of Native populations, the original sins of our birth are obvious. Facing this legacy inevitably raises strong emotions. The whole history of our nation shows that feelings of white guilt are widespread, even if they are hidden behind bluster and aggression. Guilt festers, and when it has festered for long enough, it tends to explode into violence against the very victims whose presence reminds us of the original crime.

With the benefit of a decade more experience and wisdom, I would answer that student's question differently. Now, I would say that feelings of guilt, anger, sadness, denial, and defensiveness are common when learning about systemic oppression perpetuated by people who looked like you, were related to you, or who benefited you. We should work through those feelings, discuss and examine them. But that emotional work needs to happen in the correct place and time. As a white person discussing the history of Black or Native oppression, remember that, no matter how you feel, you were not the victim of these horrible acts. Keep your focus on the victims, and don't let magical white peoples feelings hijack the learning process. Yes, I recognize the irony in that statement in the middle of a long post on white guilt. But we all need space to work through our feelings. That space is here - in a discussion about white feelings - not in a space dedicated to the understanding of racism, slavery, Jim Crow, or any other trauma to which you  or your community/ancestors were not subjugated.

While some of us react with empathy and sadness when learning about past injustice, denial and defensiveness are more common ways to distance ourselves from the emotional impact. You may think, "but that was all a long time ago, it's not relevant now!" It is important for all of us to recognize how we benefit today from the horrors of the past. For example, I had enough family money that I could try for an academic career (very chancy employment prospects!) because I knew I could always fall back on living with my parents. I'm at least the fourth generation college graduate in my family. The first college graduate I know of was my great-great grandfather, Earnest Hancock, whose education at the Virginia Military Institute was paid for by the family tobacco business, built, of course, on the backs of slaves. No, I have never personally held anyone in bondage, but generations of secure middle class life for my family has its ultimate base on slave labor. Many African-Americans are only the second (or even first) generation in their family to be literate. Imagine the differences this creates in opportunities for better jobs and education. This is the direct result of slavery and the Jim Crow system that replaced it.

It can be very tempting to answer that argument with, "but my family never owned slaves". In some cases, this isn't true. Complicity in the institution of slavery isn't something to brag about, and such stories may not be handed down from generation to generation. Even when it is true, even if, for example, your ancestors arrived in the United State well after slavery was abolished, you and your white ancestors benefited from economic and political systems that prevented Black men and women from fairly competing for resources in this country, thereby guaranteeing better education, housing, public safety, nutrition, and health care to white families. For example, the GI Bill and the Social Security laws were written explicitly to exclude most Black families from benefiting. Centuries of segregation led to radically different school quality, benefiting white families. This is an issue I'm happy to debate with any of my students (or readers of this post), but I ask that, minimally, you first read Living Apart and Segregation Now, by Nikole Hannah-Jones, and I highly recommend anything by Ta-Nehisi Coates. There is actual data that can be brought to this debate, I won't argue on opinion.

Another common way we deflect our feelings of guilt about the past is to excuse our ancestors by saying "he was a man of his times. He didn't know any better." This argument is false. Lots of people knew that, for example, slavery was wrong (not least the enslaved people themselves). The fact that people who financially benefited from the system refused to admit it was immoral does not mean they were unaware it was immoral. Although some of my ancestors were slave owners, others were actively opposed to slavery well before its abolishment, even moving North to avoid the institution. My 4xgreat-uncle, James Stewart Dean, grew up near the active Underground Railroad hub of Chillicothe, Ohio. Although most Chillicothe Underground Railroad conductors were free Blacks, the Presbyterians (like the Deans), also played an active role. James Dean sheltered people fleeing slavery on his farm, and then moved to Kansas to fight for its entrance into the union as a free state. He survived Quantrill's Raid. Five of my more distant Brattain ancestors were part of a pro-Union, anti-Slavery group in Arkansas during the Civil War. They were given the choice to enlist in the Confederate Army or be executed. They enlisted, but deserted and joined the Union forces when the opportunity arose. It diminishes the bravery and morality of these men if we excuse the behavior of slave owners as being merely typical of their time.

I enjoy genealogy because I enjoy hearing the stories of the people who came before me. Those stories are much easier to embrace when they show my family in a positive light. But I have an obligation not to hide the past just because I find it personally embarrassing. This is part of my ethical obligation as an archaeologist, as well as a code we should all follow. This nation is long overdue in addressing the issue of racism. One step toward that goal is admitting how much racism exists, and how important it has been in our nation's history. As difficult as it is to admit, part of who I am comes from people who inflicted tragedy on others. But admitting that is how we move forward, how we rededicate ourselves to fixing the systemic inequalities that exist today, the direct legacy of the violence perpetuated in the past.