When I was a teenager, I decided I wanted to be a civil-rights attorney. I had visions of righting the kinds of wrongs done in my hometown of Philadelphia, Miss. I only learned about the murders of Chaney, Goodman and Schwerner by people my family knew when I was 14, even though they happened when I was 3.
I had grown up amid air saturated with the N-word, disparaging comments about people in the "N*gger Quarters" (not to mention on the Choctaw reservation), and hearing all the fearful things about crime and rape that bigots tell to justify their putrid ideas.
When I finally found out about "the murders," I was angry. I cried in bed at night at the horrors I read about in newspaper archives, wanting to turn back time and do something about it. I could imagine myself then, using my brain and my sass to change things. If I had only been there then, I used to fantasize, maybe I could have convinced people to do right. I would have had the nerve, I told myself.
I can imagine myself alongside Florence Mars as she held the American flag rigid in salute of Martin Luther King Jr. as he marched through town with her fellow whites flinging bottles and driving cars into the marchers.
I picture myself as an intern to white newspaper owner/editor Hazel Brannon Smith as she worked in her Northside Reporter office, defying the white establishment in editorials that would win her a Pulitzer Prize even as whites boycotted her business.
So I get it that Kathryn Stockett probably had an ache in her heart when she wrote "The Help." She grew up amid the white wealth and power of Jackson, the heart and financial power of the Citizens Council in the 1960s. The big difference between us, I suspect, is that I knew more former Klansmen and she knew former Citizen Councilors. Oh, and her family could afford maids to raise their kids.
But if there was one thing I learned over the years--as I dropped out of law school to ultimately follow the trail Brannon Smith blazed here--it is that you can't change history. As much as we ache for a different past where our families and their friends were less cruel to "the other," we cannot simply rewrite it.
Only the truth, indeed, can set us free.
When I read "The Help" two years ago (I couldn't put it down) and watched the film last Saturday (which made me laugh and cry), I could feel the pain of another white 40-something Mississippian who wants to make it all better. She's pining for a happier ending for our state, and she's using her talents to make it so.
Did she intentionally write a fairy tale? Certainly, her tale is infused with bits of truth about the horror of the time for black women and tragedy of white women raised to love, hate and abuse them all at the same time.
But those nuggets are, seemingly, uninformed by voices of real black women, from former maids (like the one suing her) to female intellectuals like bell hooks and, now, Melissa Harris-Perry, who can teach us if we'll just listen.
I'm still learning, but my pilgrimage to seek, study and listen to African American voices has taught me to see what is wrong with "art" like "Mississippi Burning," "Ghosts of Mississippi," "Blind Side" and "The Help." Those films, which taken together define everything many people know about the black freedom movement, start and end poorly, even if there is some level of truth within. (Click links of those film titles to read criticism.)
The films aren't a problem because, as too many whites complain, "they make the South look bad" or "dredge up the past." Face it, white southerners made the South look bad: Our forebears were horrifying when they joined together to defend their white-supremacist way of life by any means necessary.
The movies are a problem because they dredge up a white version of a much more complicated past (and present) rich with courageous black heroes finding the faith and courage to reclaim a family structure destroyed by slavery, and ultimately changing this nation. But Hollywood seems to believe it takes a white hero saving poor blacks to sell the story. An occasional film like that would be fine--it did happen, too--but it is an injustice when only a victim narrative breaks through.
For me as a hell-raising white woman, "The Help" bothers me even more. I love the strong women in it, but I know our history well enough to see how the movie's naive ending softens our history for newer generations. The story touches on the Citizens Council and Medgar Evers' murder by a Citizens Councilor, but viewers will not know just how entrenched Jackson was in 1963-64. Bill Simmons, the head of the Citizens Councils of America, used to spread race hatred from his Fairview Street home before it became an inn. He used to say he knew where every white person in Jackson stood on the race question.
That meant whites here had two choices: go along with the Council or live in fear of economic or violent retribution. "Help" viewers will not know that taxpayers (including blacks) paid for the Sovereignty Commission, which would spy on "agitators" (including a white gas station owner in Philadelphia who let a black man use his bathroom) and file "intelligence" reports. Then upstanding whites (not just Kluckers) used the information to organize boycotts and threaten the traitor whites. They fed it to local enforcement who were often members of the Klan (such as Chaney's license plate number prior to the Philadelphia murders). If they got caught, the Americans for the Preservation of the White Race paid legal fees collected from the wealthy to help them get off, often in front of Citizen Council judges.
That is, every white person (a) was in on the conspiracy, (b) didn't care enough to speak up or (c) was threatened if they tried to.
"The Help" just could not have ended as it did. Hilly, or her man, would have called the Council on Aibileen, Minny and Skeeter. My guess is that Aibileen would have been severely beaten and never hired again in the state; anyone related to Skeeter would have been destroyed economically and at least one cross burned in her mama's yard; and Minny would have been killed and her house burned.
Oh, and my hero Hazel Brannon Smith, the writer and truth teller? She started out wealthy and owned four newspapers in this vicinity. Her papers were bombed and boycotted. In 1985, the bank took her paper and her home. She died penniless. But she still had her Pulitzer. And her self-respect.
Read "An Open Letter to Fans of 'The Help' by the Association of Black Women Historians
Example of a Mississippi Sovereignty Commission "intelligence" report
Read my essay about knowing our race history: "Dredging Up the Past: Why Mississippians Must Tell Our Own Stories
Oral history of late William J. (Bill) Simmons, former Citizens Council leader and owner of the Fairview Inn
Flip through the Citizens Council newspaper, edited by Simmons
Read about Simmons' connect with the "scientific racism" movement
More on Simmons from the best book about the Citizens Council by Neil McMillen
View Sovereignty Commission documents that mention the Americans for the Preservation of the White Race
Search the Mississippi Sovereignty Commission files here.
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