Not Poetry, but disturbing history

I have chosen to write this and post it on my blog because it’s difficult to write, but also the information hurts my heart.

I come from a racist family, I come from slave owners, I come from people who honestly believed they were superior to the blacks (and in some cases all races in the world).

I am not racist; I do not believe any of us are superior to anyone.  I believe we are all the same, all one, in the eyes of God.  Period.  After doing DNA testing and research on my genealogy I have discovered many things.  I also uncovered personal things I had written many many years ago that were quotes from long departed elderly Aunts.  They also were a part of my genealogy discoveries. 

I have always been proud of my ancestors who were patriots of the Revolutionary War who lived in Virginia and then migrated to Georgia and then to Missouri. The family also served in the Civil War. That was the Wade family.  However, I have discovered there are others from other branches of both my parents who fought in the Revolutionary War and Civil War. 

When I did the most recent DNA testing it shows the origin of your cousin’s DNA, and of course, it’s not perfect.  However, when the count rose to above 20 of cousins all the way from 3^rd to 8^th cousin with the origin of the DNA being “Ivory Coast, Congo, etc., I had to know more.  So, I contacted Ancestry.com.  They confirmed what I already suspected; the cousins 4^th on to 8^th were probably descended from slaves.  Well, I already knew the Wade’s had slaves in Virginia and Georgia.  The Wade’s in Virginia were wealthy land owners and in their wills had slaves given to wife and children.  The relatives in Georgia were primarily farmers, but on inspection of census records, they also had slaves.  Even the spouses of my direct ancestors came from families who owned slaves.  Even the early Virginia gggg grandfather’s wife who was a Quaker, had slaves, as well, and that surprised me. 

My heart was hurting, not because of the African connection, but because of how the African connection came about.  It’s a well-known fact the women who had babies from slave owners were not consenting.  They were either raped or told to succumb or die, which is rape.  I hope the slave owners in my heritage (especially the Methodist ministers and Quakers) were not raping.  But, I’m a realist, and I doubt seriously if that was the case. 

To further my disappointment and sadness, when I discovered notes I had taken when we had visited my dad’s aunts at the Wade homestead.  I already knew my Great grandfather James Benson was a confederate soldier who was wounded, held as a prisoner and later in life died from his wounds from mini balls.  He was a confederate, he had been raised in Georgia, and they had slaves.  Although there were no slaves in Missouri (that I know of), he was a believer of slavery.  How do I know?

Some of my notes as told by old maiden Aunt Leila indicate a staunch support of slavery, seceding from the union and even more than that her apparent pride of her father.  Now, I have to clarify this.  We are talking about a woman, who never married, who actually received a wonderful education back east.  She had to have overcome many obstacles to receive a Master’s Degree in English and Literature from Cornell University.  Why?  Because she would have received her degree sometime during the early to mid-1900’s, and that was unheard of. 

This as I said was notes, so they are not verbatim. 

 Aunt Leila speaking of “Father” James B Wade, J.B.

He was proud and loyal to the Confederacy.

He was wounded, captured and held prisoner

He died years later from the mini ball injury, some shrapnel was not removed.  (I presume lead)

He was loyal to the “cause”

The cause was “secession from the union” because they wanted slavery.

Because whites are superior

She goes on to describe his gun he carried and mini balls that Wallace (her cousin) still has.  Also she is going to show me the fireplace irons (that hold the wood, I guess) that were used in the Civil War and were given to him by some high up guy in the Confederacy.

This explained why my dad was so racist.  Yes, I’ve always said my dad was an “equal opportunity racist”  he didn’t leave anyone out, any race was scorned and “named” except the whites.  My mother was also racist, but that’s a whole other story which includes family connections to the KKK.  Nice, huh?

I know the racist values (if that’s what they can be called) were passed down.  I hated it.  I hated the words they used, the derogatory remarks made all the time. 

I hated it, but it affected me in ways that make me ashamed. 

I was in the 7^th grade at Clinton Jr High, in Tulsa, Ok. There was a sweet black girl who was being made fun of, treated horribly and she obviously was very distraught the day she hid in the cabinets in the Home Ec room.  Everyone was looking for her, and for some reason she trusted me.  She peeked out and motioned for me to keep quiet, and I did.  She got in trouble eventually, but what I was upset over was how she was being treated.  Well, I saw nothing wrong in exchanging phone numbers.  I was rarely allowed to use the phone anyway, but the day she called and my mother answered the phone, was one of the worst days of my life.  My mother immediately recognized her speech pattern, and she told her to never call back and called her a name.  I’m sure you know what it was.  (My parents used that word freely and openly)

The next day at school I apologized, but the damage had been done.  I had sat through a 2 hour lecture on the dangers of interacting with “-------“and to never ever do it again.  It only made me more disgusted with my parents and their beliefs. 

Fast forward to high school, Broken Arrow high school, and I was asked out by a Native American guy.  He was funny and he was on my debate team.  I always had to ask my dad if I could go out with someone.  Well, how he knew that this guy was Native American, I’ll never know, but he told me I could not date a Native American because too many of them had mixed with blacks in Oklahoma.  He said, you know I’ll find out if you sneak around.  Well, yeah, duh, my brother and sister-in-law were teachers and coach at the high school. I was shocked, I was devastated. 

A couple of years before my mom died, she was in the hospital awaiting a diagnosis from a Doctor who specialized in elderly patients.  He was awesome, so kind and caring, and he was black.  My mom literally would say, out loud, in from of him, “This is my doctor, he’s a “------“.  He would smile, pat her and then turn to me and mouth the words, “It’s okay.”  He was the best doctor she ever had, and all I can say is, “Bless him for being so understanding.”

I know racism, personally, and I hate it. I lived with racists most of my life (except my brother and I believe he was like me just went along, to get along).  I went along with husbands, parents, in-laws, etc. to get along.  I hated it, and when I was able to finally express my views without fearing who knows what, I was free.

I have learned through DNA that there are no differences in any of us!  Our ancestors may have originated from a place like Ireland, Africa, North America, Finland, or Poland, but we are all the same.  We might have different skin tone, or noses or hair color, but we are all the same.  We are certainly all the same in the eyes of God.

As for the confederate flag being a symbol of bigotry and racism, it is.  I know from family history that keeping slaves was the primary reason for seceding from the Union and declaring war.  How can people believe otherwise?  Well, look at my family the racism and bigotry ingrained in the family, generation after generation.  People don’t like change, people don’t like to be proven wrong, people don’t like to admit they are wrong, and people feel more comfort in their ignorance.  I’m not defending; I am only saying that is why people cannot see how the confederate flag is a horrible degrading symbol.