Anne Klaeysen's Blog
“When the Nazis come knocking at our door, our children will be Jewish enough!” My husband was venting about comments he had heard from Orthodox Jews at his office. Behind his back, they were saying that he wasn’t “Jewish enough” because he was married to a non-Jew and was raising his children in Ethical Culture.
Finance and taxes can be arcane subjects, attracting studious minds. Orthodox Jews who grow up engaging in Talmudic discourse are well suited for them, and working for the city means they can leave on time for Sabbath observance. Some who worked in Glenn’s department judged him harshly. Usually he shrugged it off, but on this day it really stung: “Who are they to decide who’s Jewish and who isn’t? Have they learned nothing from the Holocaust?”
I remembered this story from years ago as I thought about Yom Hashoah – Holocaust Remembrance Day – which falls on Sunday, April 27, this year. In Israel, it is a national memorial day, inaugurated in 1953. Although there is no institutionalized ritual, most Jewish communities hold a solemn ceremony, lighting candles and reciting the Kaddish or mourner’s prayer.
There are different lessons for different people. Glenn and I learned that it is our responsibility to make the world safe for everyone, a world where human rights are not only words in a United Nations document (http://www.un.org/en/documents/udhr/), but a living reality for all. We raised our children to embrace diversity and reach across boundaries, to listen with open hearts and minds, to act with compassion.
Some of the people in Glenn’s office learned that the world will always be dangerous for them and their children. Clear lines must be drawn to identify who belongs and who doesn’t, whom to trust and whom to fear. Theirs is an insular world where harsh lessons protect them.
As a woman, I experience discrimination and continue to fight for equal rights and reproductive justice, but my life has never been threatened because of my identity. I live a privileged life: U.S. citizen, white, educated, middle-class, married with two children. Humanists may not be understood or accepted in many circles, but our government does not seek to imprison or exterminate us. Still, we can empathize with those who have suffered and continue to suffer because powerful people and strong cultural forces deem them less than human.
The term “genocide” didn’t exist before 1944. It was formed by Raphael Lemkin, a Jewish jurist born in Poland, exposed to anti-Semitic pogroms and aware of the Ottoman attacks against Armenians, who combined geno-, from the Greek word for race or tribe, and –cide, from the Latin word for killing. On December 9, 1948, due to Lemkin’s tireless efforts, the United Nations approved the Convention on the Prevention and Punishment of the Crime of Genocide and defined this new international crime as:
“any of the following acts committed with intent to destroy, in whole or in part, a national, ethnical, racial or religious group, as such:
(a) killing members of the group;
(b) causing serious bodily or mental harm to members of the group;
(c) deliberately inflicting on the group conditions of life calculated to bring about its physical destruction in whole or in part;
(d) imposing measures intended to prevent births within the group;
(e) forcibly transferring children of the group to another group.”
The Holocaust forced the world to recognize the crime that had been committed against humanity: Jews, Romanies, homosexuals, the physically and mentally disabled, communists and socialists, among other groups. Lemkin gave it a name, and the United Nations outlawed it. Yom Hashoah commemorates this history. It calls us to also add to this history the killing of Bosnian men and boys by Serbian forces, of Tutsis by Hutus in Rwanda, and of Darfuris by Arab militias in western Sudan.
Today we can confront genocide and bear witness to atrocities still being committed against Dalits who are fighting “untouchability” in India, the Muslim Rohingya who are gathered into concentration camps in Burma, and displaced persons in the Central African Republic. Visit the United States Holocaust Memorial Museum at http://www.ushmm.org/confront-genocide to learn more. We must learn from the past not only to understand and empathize, but to take action.
On Tuesday, February 11th, I joined over 200 of my clergy colleagues at Bethany Baptist Church in Bedford-Stuyvesant for an interfaith breakfast in support of universal prekindergarten and after-school programs. Both Mayor Bill de Blasio and his wife Chirlane McCray spoke from personal experience about the value of these programs (no doubt embarrassing their children). My children, who attended public schools, also benefitted. Every child should have the same access as our children had to high-quality education at a young age.
“Make no mistake,” said Ms. McCray. “This is the defining civil rights issue of our day.” Research consistently shows that full-day pre-K reduces income inequality and increases social mobility, effectively leveling the playing field between low-income and high-income children. A National Bureau of Economic Research study released in May 2013 found that pre-K can reduce the achievement gap by up to 40 percent. Closing this gap is especially important in New York City, where 30 percent of our children live in poverty. (In certain neighborhoods, the child poverty rate exceeds 60 percent!) Across the country, lawmakers and educators agree that investments in pre-K have among the highest payoffs of any government policy: ensuring future success for children on measures from brain development to high school graduation rates and avoiding costly incarceration, special education, teen pregnancy and future low earnings.
So if the mayor is standing on solid pedagogical ground and making a mainstream argument, what’s the problem? Funding. His plan calls for $340 million in pre-K funding this year – reaching 68,000 of the 100,000 four-year-olds in New York City – while Albany’s plan proposes just $100 million in pre-K spending for the entire state. How can this disparity be resolved? Mayor de Blasio has proposed a stable funding source: a half-percentage-point income tax increase for New Yorkers making $500,000 and above, what he calls “a negligible sacrifice for a transformative social good.” Alas, Governor Andrew Cuomo has made it clear that he’s not interested in raising taxes in an election year, even though the study mentioned above showed little to no evidence of “tax flight” by the wealthy. The city cannot impose a tax hike without Albany’s permission, and, as I write this, state Senate Republican from Nassau County Dean Skelos would not bring the city’s proposal to the floor for a vote.
So is this a stalemate? Are there other sources of funding that would not require this tax increase? Sadly, New York State has already tried that and failed.
In 1997, ours was one of the first states to pass legislation calling for universal pre-K. Financing started in 1998 with the goal of serving all four-year-olds in all districts within five years. But by 2002, only 24 percent of eligible children were enrolled. When the economy tanked, the state failed to follow through on its funding commitment, and school districts couldn’t take the risk of implementing universal pre-K without a dedicated funding source. Almost all state funding was also limited to only two-and-a-half hours of school.
Hence, we have New York City’s proposal, supported by a majority of state residents, for a stable funding source that will eliminate yearly appropriations battles with uncertain results that discourage full commitment from teachers and staff. No more excuses, no more delays; it’s time to do the right thing by our children and the future of our communities. As the mayor said at the breakfast, “People of this city demanded something for our children and we’re told we don’t even get a vote in Albany, as if our children don’t matter.” It is no surprise that we chanted “We want a vote!” and signed letters of support provided by UPKNYC (universal pre-K New York City), a grassroots campaign formed by parents, educators, clergy and business leaders to send the message to Albany that we want and need our city’s plan enacted. Every child deserves a chance at success.
Please join me in this effort. Visit www.upknyc.org for more information and spread the word. A lobbying day in Albany is planned for Tuesday, March 4. Details will be available on NYSEC’s website and email communications. This an ethical issue that demands our support.
“Let’s Have Tea” – a conversation between Frederick Douglass and Susan B. Anthony – A play in three acts written by Dr. Anne Klaeysen
In the center of a lovely park square in Rochester, New York is a striking sculpture, a tribute to the friendship between Frederick Douglass (1818 [chose to celebrate on 2/14] – Feb. 20, 1895) and Susan B. Anthony (Feb. 15, 1820- March 13, 1906), whose bodies are interred in nearby Mount Hope Cemetery. It is called “Let’s Have Tea,” and that’s just what these neighbors are doing: sitting together, with a table between them set with a teapot, two cups, and two books. “They’re not talking about any particular issue,” says the sculptor Pepsy Kettavong, “but they both are anxious to hear what each is thinking. You’re not quite sure who’s talking or who’s listening, so you have that balance.” Inspired by this sculpture, which I have visited and photographed several times, I imagined a conversation between these two friends and wrote this short play using their own words and a few of my own. On Sunday, 2/2/14, my friend, Mr. Leonardo Gibson, and I performed it at the New York Society for Ethical Culture.
* * * * *
• Act 1: Getting reacquainted with memories of early friendship
Douglass (walking over to Anthony): My dear friend, I’m so happy to see you again! (extends hand to shake hers)
Anthony: And I you, Mr. Douglass! (grasps his hand and indicates the chairs) Please have a seat. We are long overdue for a conversation. How I have missed sitting with you here in this park so close to our homes.
Douglass (looking around): Now, in which direction are our homes? It has been so long that I feel disoriented.
Anthony (pointing): My home is still over there at 17 Madison Street. I died there in 1906 at the age of 86, not long after I gave a speech on “Failure is Impossible” in Baltimore. Can you believe it? It’s a museum now, just like your home at Cedar Hill in Anacostia outside Washington, DC. They sell T-shirts with “Failure is Impossible” printed on them (displays shirt). And over there (pointing again) is where you lived on South Avenue. What a shame your house burned down.
Douglass (shaking his head sadly): We never did learn the cause of that fire. But by 1872 so much of my work was in Washington that it was time to move.
Anthony: Ah yes, 1872. That was the year I voted in the presidential election on November 5, and two weeks later a U.S. Deputy Marshal arrested me right in my home. My trial was held in Canandaigua, and seven months later I was convicted, in spite of what I thought was a persuasive argument.
Douglass: Eloquent, yes, but clearly not persuasive.
Anthony: But I based it on the Fourteenth Amendment (assuming a pose): “All persons born or naturalized in the United States, and subject to the jurisdiction thereof, are citizens of the United States and of the State wherein they reside. No State shall make or enforce any law which shall abridge the privileges or immunities of citizens of the United States; nor shall any State deprive any person of life, liberty, or property, without due process of law; nor deny to any person within its jurisdiction the equal protection of the laws.” Supreme Court Associate Justice Ward Hunt refused to allow me to testify and ordered the jury to return a guilty verdict.
Douglass: Not that he could stop you from talking anyway, Miss Anthony. No man could.
Anthony (smiling): Except you, Mr. Douglass, and many was the time you encouraged me to speak. I had to ignore that judge; it just wasn’t fair. “May it please your honor,” I said. “I will never pay a dollar of your unjust penalty. All the stock in trade I possess is a debt of $10,000, incurred by publishing my paper – The Revolution – the sole object of which was to educate all women to do precisely as I have done, rebel against your man-made, unjust, unconstitutional forms of law, which tax, fine, imprison and hang women, while denying them the right of representation in the government; and I will work on with might and mine to pay every dollar of that honest debt, but not a penny shall go to this unjust claim.”
Douglass (chuckling): Yes, I recall reading about that “scandal.” You know, as much as I loved Cedar Hill, I still have fond memories of Rochester. I moved here after lecturing in England – and my friends there had paid Captain Auld for my freedom so that I could safely travel. I wrote to one of my abolitionist friends back in October of 1847: “I have finally decided on publishing the North Star in Rochester and to make that city my future home.” The first issue was published on December 3, 1847, and by February I began to move my family here.
Anthony: I remember your wife Anna fondly – and your five children. Oh, let me see if I can remember their names: Rosetta, Lewis, Frederick Jr., Charles and little Annie.
Douglass: Very good! Yes, Anna helped me escape from slavery. She was born free, you know. When we moved to Rochester, she established a headquarters for the Underground Railroad from our home and gave food and lodging to hundreds of fugitive slaves on their way to Canada. My income from giving speeches was so sporadic that she worked as a laundress and learned to make shoes to support our family.
Anthony: Anna was a strong woman. I remember how she prevailed upon you to train your sons as typesetters for the North Star.
Douglass (sighing): Ah, the North Star, my own abolitionist paper. I ignored the advice of the American Anti-Slavery Society and finally broke with William Lloyd Garrison to become a publisher. When they questioned me, I responded: “I still see before me a life of toil and trials. . . but justice must be done, the truth must be told. . . I will not be silent.”
Anthony: What a heady time that was for us here in Rochester! We were such close friends before and during the Civil War. You used your paper to not only denounce slavery, but to fight for the emancipation of women and other oppressed groups. I loved your motto: “Right is of no Sex – Truth is of no Color – God is the Father of us all, and we are all brethren.”
Douglass: In the issue I published after the first Women’s Rights Convention in Seneca Falls in July 1848, I wrote: “In respect to political rights, we hold woman to be justly entitled to all we claim for man. We go farther, and express our conviction that all political rights which it is expedient for man to exercise, it is equally so for women. “. . . if that government is only just which governs by the free consent of the governed, there can be no reason in the world for denying to woman the exercise of the elective franchise, or a hand in making and administering the laws of our land.”
Anthony (applauding): How I wish I could have been there with you and Elizabeth Cady Stanton! Just think of it: 300 women and men were there, and the Declaration of Sentiments was signed by 68 women and 32 men – including you, of course. You know, my mother attended the Rochester Women’s Rights Convention two weeks later and signed the declaration. It wasn’t until 1849 that I was able to quit teaching and move back home.
Douglass: Well, it didn’t take you long to get involved, my friend.
Anthony: No, it didn’t. And you brought the National Negro convention to Rochester in July of 1853. There were 140 delegates! You made Rochester a focal point in the struggle for abolition.
Douglass: When the war began, I urged President Lincoln to employ colored troops and sign the proclamation of emancipation. I was gratified that he sought my counsel and truly listened. Permission for organizing these troops was granted in 1863, and I used my paper, which was by then called the Douglass Monthly, to recruit Union soldiers for the Fifty-fourth and the Fifty-fifth Massachusetts Volunteers.
Anthony: And your sons Charles and Frederick Jr. served, didn’t they?
Douglass: Yes – and they survived. I hung a picture of the 54th storming Fort Wagner in the front hallway of Cedar Hill. Did you know that the regiment was made famous to a younger generation in 1989 by the movie “Glory”?
Anthony: Well, I’ll be!
Douglass: Then in 1866, you and I and Mrs. Stanton founded the American Equal Rights Association, demanding universal suffrage.
Anthony: Yes, but it was disbanded just three years later, Mr. Douglass. The Fourteenth and Fifteenth Amendments came between us. It was heartbreaking to take opposite stands.
• Act 2: A time of conflict followed by reconciliation
Douglass: Heartbreaking indeed. We both did what we thought was best. I never doubted your sincerity, Miss Anthony.
Anthony: Nor I yours. Still, it was a very difficult time. Elizabeth warned us: “If that word ‘male’ be inserted as now proposed, it will take us a century at least to get it out again,” and she was right. Women won the vote in 1920, but we still don’t have full equality.
Douglass: I understand, but I stand by what I said in 1868 at a meeting of the American Equal Rights Association: “I champion the right of the negro to vote. It is with us a matter of life and death, and therefore cannot be postponed. I have always championed women’s right to vote; but it will be seen that the present claim for the negro is one of the most urgent necessity. The assertion of the right of women to vote meets nothing but ridicule; there is no deep seated malignity in the hearts of the people against her; but name the right of the negro to vote, all hell is turned loose and the Ku-Klux and Regulators hunt and slay the unoffending black man. The government of this country loves women. They are the sisters, mothers, wives and daughters of our rulers; but the negro is loathed. . . The negro needs suffrage to protect his life and property, and to answer him with respect and education. He needs it for the safety of reconstruction and the salvation of the Union; for his own elevation from the position of a drudge to that of an influential member of society.”
Anthony: I understand, too, but still I stand by the motto of my women’s rights journal, The Revolution: “The true republic – men, their rights and nothing more; women, their rights and nothing less.” And don’t forget what Sojourner Truth said at the first meeting of the America Equal Rights Association in 1867: “I am glad to see that men are getting their rights, but I want women to get theirs, and while the water is stirring I will step into the pool. . . [I]f colored men get their rights, and colored women not theirs, the colored men will be masters over the women, and it will be just as bad as it was before. So I am for keeping the thing going while things are stirring; because if we wait till it is still, it will take a great deal to get it going again.”
Douglass: No, I haven’t forgotten, and there was plenty of hurt when the 14th and 15th amendments passed and women were excluded. I was hurt, too, by some of the things you and Mrs. Stanton wrote.
Anthony: I am truly sorry. Reconstruction was a time of great conflict as we all travelled across the country trying to win people over to our positions. Do you remember the time in March 1869 when Elizabeth and I ran into you on our way from Galena, Illinois to Toledo, Ohio?
Douglass: Well, if I hadn’t remembered it, I could read Mrs. Stanton’s article about it in The Revolution.
Anthony (chuckling): That was quite a description of you! (quoting) “Douglass was dressed in a cap and great circular cape of wolf skins. He really presented a most formidable and ferocious aspect. . . I trembled in my shoes and was almost as paralyzed as Red Riding Hood in a similar encounter.”
Douglass: Surely she exaggerated.
Anthony: Of course, she did, and she went on: “But unlike the little maiden, I had a friend at hand and, as usual, in the hour of danger, I fell back in the shadow of Miss Anthony, who stepped forward bravely and took the wolf by the hand.” Well, we were friends, after all, Mr. Douglass, and you were very gracious. Your smile reassured both of us. I enjoyed the debate we had on that journey.
Douglass: As did I, and immediately after the adoption of the Fifteenth Amendment in 1870, I called for an amendment giving women the right to vote, and wrote an editorial entitled “Women and the Ballot.”
Anthony: Thank you for your undying support. I remember that in 1888 you even called women’s rights a more important cause than abolition.
Douglass: That was at a meeting of the New England Woman Suffrage Association in May. I said, “My special mission… was the emancipation and enfranchisement of the negro. Mine was a great cause. Yours is a much greater cause, since it comprehends the liberation and elevation of one half of the whole human family.” “The fundamental proposition of the woman suffrage movement is scarcely less simple than that of the anti-slavery movement. It assumes that woman is herself. That she belongs to herself.”
The two friends smile at one another and reach out to grasp hands. Then Douglass sits back, looks around and sighs.
Douglass: You said that you died in your home. Well, so did I – of a heart attack.
Anthony: Oh, I remember! I was very distraught. We had sat together just hours before at the Women’s National Council triennial meeting in Washington, DC. You received a standing ovation, as I recall.
Douglass (nodding): It was a very busy day, and I had called a carriage to take me to another meeting when I just stopped. (smiling) I died in my dear wife Helen’s arms.
Anthony: Ah, Helen. What a lovely woman – and another New Yorker, born in Honeoye. Our friend Francis James Grimke officiated at your wedding. What a shame that her parents, Gideon and Jane Pitts, both staunch abolitionists, were against the marriage because you were the son of a white father and a black mother.
Douglass: Well, as I said then: “This proves I am impartial. My first wife was the color of my mother and the second, the color of my father.” I appreciated your support – and Mrs. Stanton’s. I loved what she said: “If a good man from Maryland sees fit to marry a disenfranchised woman from New York, there should be no legal impediments to the union.”
Anthony: Yes, that’s our friend Elizabeth, all right.
Douglass: “No man, perhaps, had ever more offended popular prejudice than I had . . . done. I had married a wife. People who had remained silent over the unlawful relations of white slave masters with their colored slave women loudly condemned me for marrying a wife a few shades lighter than myself. They would have had no objection to my marrying a person much darker in complexion than myself, but to marry one much lighter, and of the complexion of my father rather than of that of my mother, was, in the popular eye, a shocking offense, and one for which I was to be ostracized by white and black alike.”
Anthony: Indeed. (pauses, then says) I had offers of marriage but turned them down. I had a good sense of humor and was respected even by my enemies, so I was told, but my honesty was uncompromising, as you know. Sometimes when I was on the road lecturing, I longed “to lay my weary head somewhere and nestle my full soul close to that of another in full sympathy.” Let us hope that the right to choose whom we love and marry will one day be fully guaranteed to everyone.
They smile at one another.
• Part 3: Looking to the future
Anthony: So, my friend, our time together is drawing to a close. I wonder if we really made any difference. It seems to me that so many of the injustices we fought are still prevalent over a century after we died.
Douglass: It’s true, Miss Anthony. People were always asking me about “the race problem,” and I answered, “I know of no race problem, The great problem that confronts the American people today is a national problem – whether this great nation of ours is great enough to live up to its own convictions, carry out its own declaration of independence, and execute the provisions of its own constitution.” “The life of the nation is secure only while the nation is honest, truthful and virtuous.”
Anthony: I agree, Mr. Douglass. “Cautious, careful people, always casting about to preserve their reputation and social standing, never can bring about a reform. Those who are really in earnest must be willing to be anything or nothing in the world’s estimation, and publicly and privately, in season and out, avow their sympathy with despised and persecuted ideas and their advocates, and bear the consequences.”
Douglass (nodding): “It is not the light that we need, but fire; it is not the gentle shower, but thunder. We need the storm, the whirlwind, and the earthquake.” “Where justice is denied, where poverty is enforced, where ignorance prevails, and where any class is made to feel that society is an organized conspiracy to oppress, rob and degrade them, neither persons nor property will be safe.”
Anthony: As I wrote to Mrs. Stanton in 1902, “We little dreamed when we began this contest, optimistic with the hope and buoyancy of youth, that half a century later we would be compelled to leave the finish of the battle to another generation of women. . .These strong, courageous, capable young women will take our place and complete our work. There is an army of them where we were but a handful.”
Douglass: And one of those women is Lovely A. Warren, an African-American was elected Mayor of Rochester in 2013!
Anthony: She has a tremendous job ahead of her. This city of over 210,000 people has become an international center for higher education, as well as medical and technological development, but the public schools are poorly run, businesses are declining, and the crime rate is rising. The economic disparity between the city and its suburbs is appalling; over a quarter of the population lives below the poverty line.
Douglass: Once again it is important that people “Agitate, agitate, agitate.” “Power concedes nothing without a demand. It never did and it never will.”
Anthony: As I said at my 86th birthday, “with such women consecrating their lives, failure is impossible!”
Douglass: Amen. . . (looking around) You know, I rather like this sculpture of us. What do they call it?
Anthony: “Let’s Have Tea.” Isn’t that wonderful, Mr. Douglass? The sculptor, Pepys Kettavong, who escaped from Laos with his family when he was only 8 years old, said this is “a social statement” and “a metaphor for American democracy.”
Douglass: I hear they have also named a bridge after us.
Anthony: Yes, a bridge over the Genesee River was named the Frederick Douglass-Susan B. Anthony Memorial Bridge in 2007. Folks in Rochester call it the Freddie-Sue Bridge.
Douglass (chuckling): Well, we certainly formed a bridge between many people in our day, didn’t we? I understand that several school scholarships have also been named for us. Now, that is truly an honor.
Anthony: There is one “honor” I wish we hadn’t received, though. A piece of legislation was named after us: The Prenatal Nondiscrimination Act of 2011 (PRENDA – H.R. 3541). Instead of addressing discrimination on the basis of sex, it attempted to restrict health care for women of color under the guise of civil rights. The president of my museum had to answer a lot of phone calls and email about that.
Douglass (shaking his head): Well, I guess it’s to be expected. We are dead, after all, and not able to protest. We’re actually not so far away from one another up there in Mt. Hope Cemetery.
Anthony: It is beautiful there, and so many people visit our graves. Do you suppose that means that we’re not forgotten, Mr. Douglass?
Douglass: Not forgotten at all, Miss Anthony.
During the first week of January 1909, three people met in a small room of a New York City apartment and decided that on the centennial of Abraham Lincoln’s birthday they would issue a call for a national conference on “The Negro question.” They were Ethical Culture Leader Dr. Henry Moskowitz, Unitarian Mary White Ovington and William English Walling, a reporter who covered the race riots the summer before in Lincoln’s home of Springfield, Illinois.
For two days in the summer of 1908, a mob of white people, including some of Springfield’s “best citizens,” raged against the African-Americans of their city. As they killed and wounded them, and destroyed their homes and businesses, these racists shouted, “Lincoln freed you. Now we’ll show you where you belong!” There were other race riots throughout the country, but no one described the atrocities as vividly as Walling did in his article, “Race War in the North.” He also asked an important question: “Yet who realizes the seriousness of the situation, and what large and powerful body of citizens is ready to come to their aid?” After reading Walling’s article, Ovington, who for years had been studying the housing conditions, health, and work opportunities of African-Americans in New York City, and lived in one of their neighborhood tenements, wrote to him: “The spirit of the abolitionists must be revived.”
The trio, having decided to call for a conference, reached out to Oswald Garrison Villard, president of the NY Evening Post, grandson of abolitionist William Lloyd Garrison, and member of the New York Society for Ethical Culture. It was he who drafted the “Call for the Lincoln Emancipation Conference to Discuss Means for Securing Political and Civil Equality for the Negro” and widely disseminated it. It begins with this challenge:
“The celebration of the centennial of the birth of Abraham Lincoln widespread and grateful as it may be, will fail to justify itself if it takes no note and makes no recognition of the colored men and women to whom the great emancipator labored to assure freedom. Besides a day of rejoicing, Lincoln’s birthday in 1909 should be one of taking stock of the nation’s progress since
1865. How far has it lived up to the obligations imposed upon it by the Emancipation Proclamation? How far has it gone in assuring to each and every citizen, irrespective of color, the equality of opportunity and equality before the law, which underlie our American institutions and are guaranteed by the Constitution?”
Villard catalogued the gross injustices African-Americans continued to endure since the Emancipation Proclamation. The Call ends, as if in anticipation of what Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. would say almost 60 years later – “In the end, we will remember not the words of our enemies, but the silence of our friends.” – with these words:
“Silence under these conditions means tacit approval. . . Discrimination once permitted cannot be bridled; recent history in the South shows that in forging chains for the negroes, the white voters are forging chains for themselves. . . Hence we call upon all the believers in democracy to join in a national conference for the discussion of present evils, the voicing of protests, and the renewal of the struggle for civil and political liberty.”
Among the 53 signers were four Ethical Culture Leaders: Jane Addams and Walter Salter from Chicago and John Lovejoy Elliott and Henry Moskowitz from New York. The proposed conference was opened on the evening of May 30, 1909 with an informal reception at the Henry Street Settlement hosted by Lillian D. Wald, and deliberations began the next day at Cooper Union. According to Mary White Ovington, “These men and women, engaged in religious, social and educational work, for the first time met the Negro who demands, not a pittance, but his full rights in the commonwealth. . . They did not want to leave the meeting.”
Out of this first conference was formed a committee that, by the end of the year, held four mass meetings, distributed thousands of pamphlets and grew to hundreds in membership. At a second conference in May 1910, a permanent body known as the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People was organized. The most important work of this conference was the appointment of W.E.B. DuBois, leader of the Niagara Movement formed in 1905, to the position of Director of Publicity and Research. Twenty years later, DuBois wrote to Walling about the “cousins” who together founded a mighty movement for civil rights.
As we look back upon our history, let us again stalwartly take up the challenge of “assuring to each and every citizen, irrespective of color, the equality of opportunity and equality before the law, which underlie our American institutions and are guaranteed by the Constitution.” We are, tragically, again facing a moment when the rights of our “cousins” are being attacked. We must not be silent! Take action today by joining a local branch of the NAACP (http://www.naacp.org/) and the American Civil Liberties Union (https://www.aclu.org/), another organization founded by Ethical Culture.
I had to wake up at 4 am, so I had to fall asleep. But I couldn’t. I had to fall asleep, so I drank hot cider with a stick of cinnamon and a shot of bourbon. Delicious, but it didn’t work. So I read. The novel on the top of my nightstand pile had done the trick before, but it wasn’t working. I still couldn’t sleep. I could have easily finished the book, but I couldn’t. I had to wake up at 4 am.
I lay awake in bed, eyes closed, thinking about . . . everything. Nothing escaped my attention; nothing was too small or insignificant to ponder and analyze. A parade of people marched under my eyelids, and every one of them had a story that I was forced to replay, like running a projector on the screen of a darkened and empty movie theater. I was mostly thinking about the workers who would soon be going on strike at fast food restaurants all across the country.
Just relax, I kept telling myself. You’re lying down, your eyes are closed. Even if you’re not sleeping, you’re relaxing. Only I wasn’t. I kept going through the next day’s (now this day’s) agenda:
• Meet clergy colleagues on the corner of 52nd and 8th Avenue in Manhattan at 5:30 am
• Combine forces with workers and community organizers at 6 am and head to the McDonald’s on Broadway
• Enter restaurant by any means possible and take it over by 6:30 am
• Start the program with Ethical Culture Leader Algernon Black’s Invocation and line up the speakers: workers and clergy
• Leave when the police arrive and reconvene on the sidewalk
• Be prepared with living wage chants – and let the politicians speak (but not too much)
Easy peasy. But what if we can’t get into the restaurant? What if the police are already there and arrest us? What if no reporters show up? What if I fail? What if?
Enough already! Relax! Oh, yeah, that’s gonna work. I get up to make some more notes, go to the bathroom. Don’t look at the clock! You don’t want to know how late it is and how little sleep you’re going to get. I have to sleep. I have to wake up on time. People are counting on me.
But I’m not the only one; I’m part of a team: The Clergy-Worker Justice Table. We all support one another through breakfast meetings, teleconferences, emails and texts. This is not our first fast food action; we are pros. My heart breaks whenever I hear workers tell their stories about walking to work because they can’t afford public transportation; long shifts or reduced hours; children to feed, clothe and educate; sleepless nights wondering how to pay all the bills. Sleepless nights, just like this one.
The alarm goes off, and I wake up, so I must have slept after all. What was my last thought before I drifted off? Whose face did I see? Now I see my own in the mirror as I brush my teeth. Soon I’ll get dressed, pulling on my Ethical vest over a warm sweater, and head out the door to the subway. I’m ready.
The photographs accompanying this piece document the workers’ strike at McDonald’s early on Thursday, December 5. When I arrived, two NYSEC members, Meg Chapman and Elinore were already there and quickly learned the chants, falling into line for the march and storming the store with scores of other people. It was pure joy to hear the words of Algernon Black’s Invocation repeated back in classic Occupy Wall Street “mike check” fashion and to clear the way for workers’ voices to be heard. Here’s the link to Democracy Now’s video: http://www.democracynow.org/2013/12/5/we_cant_survive_on_725_fast
“Good evening and welcome to the New York Society for Ethical Culture, a non-theist congregation founded in 1876 and dedicated to the practice of ethics.”
I was the speaker at Sunday Assembly’s New York City event (on Monday evening, November 4th) featuring founders Sanderson Jones and Pippa Evans. They are comedians from the United Kingdom, and Pippa also sings. The story they tell is that they were en route to a gig when they discussed their shared disbelief in a god and wondered how many people felt, as they did, that they were missing out on some good times singing and clapping and hugging strangers just because they didn’t go to church. So they did something that was new for them (but not, of course, for us) and created Sunday Assembly, a joyful gathering that takes the best parts of church – and leaves god behind. It was a hit in London, and young people in their 20s and 30s flocked to the venues where bands played upbeat music, Sanderson told jokes, and Pippa led them in song. Their celebration of the wonder and awe of life sans the divine went viral on the Internet, and by July there was a gathering at a bar on Manhattan’s Lower East Side.
Several people from Ethical Culture and local humanists groups checked out the “new” godless congregation, and came away saying, “OK, so they’re atheists. Big deal. What will they do next?” “Next” was my meeting with a graduate student at Columbia University who was on the newly-formed Sunday Assembly board. We began a conversation that culminated in producing an event together: The first U.S. stop in Sanderson and Pippa’s “40 Dates and 40 Nights” tour of taking Sunday Assembly around the world.
The theme of the evening was seasonally appropriate: Harvest. I considered the topic both literally and metaphorically. “How many of you grew up on farm?” I asked the audience. A few hands went up. “Ever lived on one?” – a few more hands. “Visited? Picked apples? Stopped at a farm stand?” It seemed that almost everyone had some concept of a place where seeds were planted and food harvested, where communal work was done. I shared a story from our Family Programs Director, Audrey Kindred, whose public school in Maine started in August so that children could be released in October to help harvest potatoes on local farms. The entire community participated. It was that important to everyone. Sadly, this ritual no longer exists; agribusiness has taken over. Food is no longer a communal affair of reaping what one has sown.
And yet the image of harvesting stays with us as a lively and lovely metaphor. We sow seeds of love or discord and reap the consequences of our behavior. Seasons evoke the cycle of life, reminding us that we are part of nature: evolving and enmeshed with all living things. We can and we must choose how to live and love, aspiring to creating ethical relationships.
Since I relished the opportunity to share with these newcomers the wisdom of Ethical Culture, I quoted Leader A. Eustace Haydon (1880 – 1975):
“The Humanist rarely loses the feeling of at-homeness in the universe. The Humanist is conscious of being an earth-child. There is a mystic glow in this sense of belonging. Memories of one’s long ancestry still linger in muscle and nerve, in brain and germ cell. On moonlit nights, in the renewal of life in the springtime, before the glory of a sunset, in moments of swift insight, people feel the community of their own physical being with the body of mother earth. Rooted in millions of years of planetary history, the earthling has a secure feeling of being at home, and a consciousness of pride and dignity as a bearer of the heritage of the ages.”
The band played on, accompanying our singing of the Beatles’ “Help” and “Lean on Me” by Bill Withers. Sanderson spoke eloquently about developing a practice of gratitude, and Syd Leroy from Center for Inquiry told the story of “Stone Soup” in dulcet tones, accompanied by a mandolin. At the end of the program, we congregated downstairs in social hall to partake of the food and drink members of our team had brought to share.
I am hopeful that Sunday Assembly will fulfill the needs of a younger generation for more music and movement and fewer words. More people want to experience humanism in tactile, not abstract, ways. It’s time to encourage different expressions and modalities of our non-theistic religion of ethics. The next Sunday Assembly meets on Sunday, December 1, at 2 pm in Ceremonial Hall. The theme is “Wonder.” Please join me then and there!