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    Turn Me Loose

    Page 4
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      to own a car and not know how fast it’ll go.

      And whatever I am, I ain’t no fool.

      BIGHEARTED

      Thelma De La Beckwith speaks to Myrlie Evers

      You are wrong to think my man a monster

      or a lowly coward ’cause he grins at you

      from across the courtroom. Your shallow

      Faith won’t let you see his generosity

      or his compassion. Don’t you see the courtesy

      he extended to you by opening up a hole

      in that boy’s black back and not his face,

      allowing you and your children the dignity

      of an open casket, a vision of perfect sleep

      instead of a bloody stump, where his head rests now?

      ANATOMY OF HATE

      Byron De La Beckwith

      I have no problem with colored who know

      their place, but it’s easy to hate troublemakers

      an’ integrationists, uppity monkeys in suits’n ties,

      little more than pet dogs for northern scum

      pissing on our proud Heritage. Yeah, I shot that boy

      in the back. But not ’cause I hated his color.

      I hated how clean he kept his car. I hated

      his always-pressed clothes and shiny shoes. I hated

      that he parked in front of his own house. I hated

      the sound of the north and schools and books

      every time he opened his nigger lips.

      The prosecution said he was only speaking

      on equality and freedom, but what I heard

      when he flapped his black gums was

      “poor white trash, lick our union boots

      and watch us do to your wives and daughters

      what the slavers done to ours.”

      … everybody knows about

      Mississippi Goddam.

      —NINA SIMONE

      WHAT THEY CALL IRONY

      Byron De La Beckwith

      There was a time

      when being a white man

      on trial in Mississippi

      was like swapping lies

      in the barbershop or at a church picnic.

      Looking across at the Judases

      that helped find me guilty

      the third time

      was like looking at a souvenir postcard

      of a lynching

      only it’s me playing jump rope

      with the tree

      and the Christmas morning faces

      in the crowd

      is all carpetbaggers and Jews.

      ON MOVING TO CALIFORNIA

      Myrlie Evers

      Dying can’t compare with living

      with death and loss grief and anger.

      Standing up for truth and justice

      is much harder than marrying silence.

      Climbing out from under the heaviness

      of hate is the hardest thing I’ve ever done.

      Surviving a husband is something I prepared for.

      I practiced and practiced being strong enough.

      Surviving Mississippi took Fannie Lou Hamer

      strength, something I didn’t ever think I had.

      PART V

      Bitter Fruit

      ONE MISSISSIPPI, TWO MISSISSIPPIS

      after Thomas Sayers Ellis

      You got old plantations

      We got shotgun houses

      You got sprawling verandas

      We got a piece a front porch

      You got beautiful gardens

      We got cotton fields

      You got Ole Miss Law School

      We got Parchman Prison

      You got Gulf Shore beaches

      We got river banks

      You got debutante balls

      We got juke joints

      You got bridge parties

      We got dominoes and spades

      You got mint juleps

      We got homemade hooch

      You got your grandmother’s china

      We got paper plates

      You see a proud history

      We see a racist past

      You don’t remember lynchings

      We can’t forget

      You got blacks

      We got the blues

      A FINAL ACCOUNTING

      You can own the land a woman calls home

      but not the warmth in it or the stars above it.

      You can own the food she feeds her family

      but not the love that prepares it.

      You can own the well from which she pulls

      her water but not the thirst it quenches

      You can fill all the libraries with your version

      of facts, call it history, and still not own the truth.

      NOW ONE WANTS TO BE PRESIDENT

      Thelma De La Beckwith

      After that first harvest,

      they took to the streets

      and chanted “after” him

      there’d be no more fear

      but it took them forty-five years

      to grow back their spines

      after their so-called civil rights lions

      were slaughtered like lambs

      I look at this new one standing here

      shameless and shiny, faking humility

      and confidence, an educated mongrel

      peddling false hope

      But even though he won, the victory is ours,

      because it took them forty-five years

      to rebuild their backbones

      all those years to unshackle their fear

      forty-five years to raise another boy

      man enough to send home in a box

      Plenty of rich folks wants to fight.

      Give them the guns.

      —WOODY GUTHRIE

      EPIPHANY

      Willie De La Beckwith

      I never understood colored folks.

      They ain’t got no more than we got.

      Hell, most of them got less than nothing

      but every time I see one, they are smiling

      I don’t hate them as much as I hate

      those big ass grins on their face.

      When I see one of them grinning, it’s like

      they are laughing at us for being white

      and still poor, for believing we had something

      in common with the real bosses.

      We stood by while the rich used blacks

      like they were little more than dirt floors

      to walk on, but we were too dumb to know

      we were just their rugs.

      LAST MEAL HAIKU

      Myrlie Evers

      imagine byron

      sitting down to eat, using

      his cotton shirt sleeves

      as substitutes for

      napkins, clutching a steak knife

      —no unleavened bread

      enjoying blood that

      drips from every single bite

      of his final meal

      imagine before

      he lays down to sleep, ready

      to meet his maker

      he gets on his knees

      and confesses all his sins

      in time to be saved,

      but when he looks up

      at God’s burnt brass face he thinks

      he has gone to hell

      WHITE KNIGHTS

      Myrlie Evers

      For every ten Beckwiths

      defending the right to wave

      the Confederate flag

      there’s at least one Kennedy.

      For every racist governor

      and flaming cross

      there’s a white Catholic priest

      dodging bricks, wiping off spit,

      bleeding from the temple

      in the thick of a march.

      For every hundred southerners

      teeming with hatred

      there’s a set of kind blue eyes

      full of hope, there’s a young heart

      unafraid of change and a reason

      not to fear or pity them all.

      EVERS FAMILY SECRET RECIPE

     
    Myrlie Evers

      prepare closed minds

      with patience. peel ripe

      distrust with smiles.

      stir in generous portions

      of kindness and willingness

      to do the work.

      add commitment and determination.

      massage out doubt and fear.

      blend in a drop of daddy’s blood

      and two of mamma’s tears.

      season with hope and change.

      let sit for a generation.

      distill as a salve. rub deeply into

      your children’s hands, feet and hearts.

      now vote.

      THE ASSURANCE MAN

      Charles Evers

      If you knew him after Alcorn and the war,

      before history books, before that bullet,

      before becoming the field secretary,

      back when he was just an insurance man,

      you would’ve known how bullheaded he could be.

      He knew Mississippi polished and perfected ugly

      but also that she had something beautiful to offer

      her sons our freedom.

      He didn’t sell us a waiting game like a preacher

      and only promise our rewards in the hereafter.

      We shall all be free. We shall all

      be free.

      We shall all be free some day.

      —GUY AND CANDY CARAWAN

      GIFT OF TIME

      Myrlie Evers

      When I was able to see beauty in a world

      littered with scars

      when I discovered stores of memories

      that a bullet couldn’t quit

      when I watched a son grow into his father’s face,

      his laugh, his walk

      I saw how faith could be restored.

      And was finally able to imagine

      that before he fell in love with guns

      before he lost his mother

      and his childhood

      before he needed a reason to hate

      to feel threatened

      to push back against imaginary walls

      collapsing in on him

      like August heat and no fan

      I imagine before all that, little Byron was good.

      He was clean. He was innocent.

      And I finally understood

      that trouble don’t last always.

      HEAVY WAIT

      If Mississippi is to love her elephant self

      she needs a memory as sharp as her ivory tusks

      with as many wrinkles as her thick thick past.

      If she forgets, she need only reach back,

      caress her keloid skin, and run her fingers across

      the Braille history raised on her spine

      or the bruised couplets around her supple neck.

      For Mississippi to love her elephant self,

      she need only open her blue/gray eyes and move.

      Move, as if she carries the entire weight of history

      and southern guilt on her massive head.

      Move, in any direction, as long as it is forward.

      For Mississippi to love her elephant self,

      she must ask for, extend, and receive

      forgiveness.

      But she must never ever ever forget.

      Time Line

      1954

      The Supreme Court rules on Brown v. Board of Education of Topeka Kansas, unanimously agreeing that segregation in public schools is unconstitutional, paving the way for large-scale desegregation.

      1955

      Fourteen-year-old Chicagoan Emmett Till, visiting family in Mississippi, is kidnapped, brutally beaten, shot, and dumped in the Tallahatchie River for allegedly whistling at a white woman. The two white men acquitted by an all-white jury later brag about committing the murder in Look magazine.

      1955

      NAACP member Rosa Parks refuses to give up her seat at the front of the “colored section” bus to a white passenger. In response to her arrest, the Montgomery, Alabama, black community launches a successful bus boycott, which will last for more than a year.

      1957

      Federal troops are sent in to facilitate the integration of formerly all-white Little Rock, Arkansas, Central High School by “the Little Rock Nine.”

      1962

      James Meredith becomes the first black student to enroll at the University of Mississippi. Violence and riots surrounding his enrollment cause President John F. Kennedy to send five thousand federal troops to restore and maintain order.

      1963

      Byron De La Beckwith shoots Medgar Evers. He is tried twice in 1964 for murder. Both trials result in hung juries. Beckwith goes free.

      March on Washington draws over 200,000 people. Martin Luther King, Jr., delivers famous “I Have a Dream” speech.

      Four young girls (Denise McNair, Cynthia Wesley, Carole Robertson, and Addie Mae Collins) are killed when a bomb explodes at the Sixteenth Street Baptist Church in Birmingham, Alabama.

      President John F. Kennedy assassinated. Warren Commission concludes Lee Harvey Oswald, acting alone, committed the crime.

      1964

      President Lyndon B. Johnson signs the Civil Rights Act of 1964, which prohibits discrimination of all kinds based on race, color, religion, or national origin.

      The bodies of three civil rights workers (James Chaney, Andrew Goodman, & Michael Schwerner)–two white, one black-are found in an earthen dam six weeks after being murdered by the Ku Klux Klan.

      1965

      Malcolm X is assassinated in the Audubon Ballroom in Harlem.

      Blacks begin a march to Montgomery from Selma, Alabama, but are stopped by police at the Pettus Bridge. Fifty marchers are hospitalized after police use tear gas, whips, and clubs against them, earning the incident the name “Bloody Sunday.”

      Voting Rights Act of 1965 makes it easier for southern blacks to register to vote by outlawing literacy tests, poll taxes, and other such requirements that were instituted to restrict blacks from voting.

      Routine traffic stop ignites six-day race riot in Los Angeles, California.

      1968

      Martin Luther King, Jr., is shot in Memphis, Tennessee, sparking riots in over sixty cities. James Earl Ray is convicted of his murder.

      Robert F. Kennedy is assassinated in Los Angeles, California, by Sirhan Sirhan.

      1969

      Black Panther Party deputy chairman, Fred Hampton, is assassinated as he lies in bed by Chicago Police, FBI, and a tactical unit of the Illinois state attorney’s office.

      1992

      Race riots erupt in south-central Los Angeles after a jury acquits four police officers for the videotaped beating of Rodney King.

      1994

      Thirty years after assassinating Medgar Evers, Byron De La Beckwith is convicted for murder at a third trial.

      1998

      James Byrd, Jr., is murdered by three white supremacists in Jasper, Texas, who drag him behind a pickup truck.

      2001

      Racial tensions ignited by fifteenth shooting death of a young black man by police in six years results in riots in Cincinnati, Ohio.

      2005

      Edgar Ray Killen is convicted of manslaughter forty-one years after the deaths of civil rights workers Chaney, Goodman, and Schwerner.

      2007

      Six black students at Jena High School in Central Louisiana are arrested and charged with attempted murder after the beating of a white classmate.

      2008

      Barack Obama becomes first African American elected as president of the United States.

      2011

      White teenagers brutally beat, run over, and kill James Anderson in Jackson, Mississippi.

      2012

      Neighborhood watch volunteer shoots and kills unarmed teenager Trayvon Martin in Sanford, Florida.

      Bibliography

      The epigraph in “Humor Me” is taken from the poem “The Social Order,” by Andrew Hudgins, in The Glass Hammer.

      Carson, Clayborne. Civil Rights Chronicle: The African-American Struggle for Free
    dom. Lincolnwood, Ill.: Legacy, 2003.

      Delaughter, Bobby. Never Too Late: A Prosecutor’s Story of Justice in the Medgar Evers Case. Scribner: New York, 2001.

      Evers, Myrlie. For Us, the Living. Jackson, Miss.: Banner Books, 1967.

      Gwin, Minrose. Remembering Medgar Evers: Writing the Long Civil Rights Movement. Athens: University of Georgia Press, 2013.

      Hampton, Henry and Steve Fayer. Voices of Freedom: Oral History of the Civil Rights Movement from the 1950s through the 1980s. New York: Bantam Books, 1990.

      Hudgins, Andrew. The Glass Hammer. Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1994.

      Massengill, Reed. Portrait of a Racist: The Real Life of Byron De La Beckwith. New York: St. Martin’s Griffin, 1994.

      Mills, Kay. This Little Light of Mine: The Life of Fannie Lou Hamer. Lexington: University Press of Kentucky, 2007.

      Nossiter, Adam. Of Long Memory: Mississippi and the Murder of Medgar Evers. Cambridge, Mass.: Da Capo Press, 1994.

      Sims, Patsy. The Klan, 2nd ed. Lexington: University Press of Kentucky, 1996.

     

     

     



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