I have no memory of learning about slavery in school. I was mostly educated in public schools in the South, and while I have vivid recall of studying Southern literature, my only memories of American history revolve around the American Revolution and the World Wars.
Most of what I knew about slavery in my youth came from “Gone With the Wind.” I recall visiting a plantation on family vacation as a kid and being curious about the row of faded wood shacks behind the grand mansion and feeling creeped out when my mother pointed out the Old Slave Mart in Charleston, South Carolina. It wasn’t until the TV miniseries of Alex Haley’s groundbreaking novel “Roots” aired in 1977 that I began to grasp an inkling of reality.
Wondering if it was just me who grew up ignorant, I queried friends and family who were also educated in the South. They didn’t recall learning about slavery either. It seems that a long tragic chapter ― a defining factor in the founding of our country that played out in our very own region ― was virtually erased from history.
Credit: HO
Credit: HO
Most of what I know about slavery today was gleaned in recent years from books like Colson Whitehead’s “The Underground Railroad,” winner of the Pulitzer Prize and National Book Award for fiction in 2016. Despite the novel’s fantastical elements — the railroad is an actual mode of transportation — the historical depiction of the brutal mistreatment of enslaved people and their desperate attempts to gain freedom are heartbreaking and illuminating.
I learned about the devastation wrought when families were routinely torn apart in “All That She Carried” by Tiya Miles, winner of the National Book Award for Nonfiction in 2021. It traces the journey of a precious object — a humble cotton bag — given by an enslaved mother named Rose to her 9-year-old daughter Ashley before the child was sold to another plantation.
And I learned about the secret acts of resistance that empowered and sustained the enslaved in “Night Wherever We Go.” Tracey Rose Peyton’s historical novel is centered on a group of enslaved women who start out as strangers but who come together to thwart the plantation owner’s scheme to breed slaves by forcing them to procreate.
What these books and others like them accomplish is to humanize the experiences of those who suffered through these historical events. The reader can’t help but feel secondhand anguish, fear and rage from what the characters endure. By making historic events relatable on a personal level, these authors are sowing seeds of compassion, something in short supply these days. And that is the beauty of books — they educate and enlighten us on worlds beyond our own so that we can better understand our differences and recognize all the ways we are similar.
In March, President Donald Trump signed an executive order directing the Department of the Interior to remove elements that “inappropriately disparage Americans past or living” from parks and monuments.
According to The New York Times and The Washington Post, slavery-related materials were flagged for removal — including the photograph of an enslaved man with whip scars on his back at Fort Pulaski National Monument in Savannah. The National Park Service would not confirm whether the photograph was removed, but spokesperson Elizabeth Peace said the National Park Service is “evaluating all signage in the park along with the public feedback.”
How that all shakes out remains to be seen. But we might find ourselves more dependent than ever on books and the publishing industry’s freedom from public policy to keep us informed — and to remind us of our past so we don’t repeat our mistakes in the future.
Suzanne Van Atten is a book critic and contributing editor to The Atlanta Journal-Constitution. She may be reached at Suzanne.VanAtten@ajc.com.
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