When and Where I Enter

by Giddings, Paula

• ISBN13: 9780688146504
• ISBN10: 0688146503
• Edition: 2nd
• Format: Paperback
• Copyright: 1996-08-01
• Publisher: HarperCollins Publications

Summary

In her landmark appraisal of black women's unsung contributions to the struggles for racial and sexual equality, Giddings draws on speeches, diaries, and letters of influential black women, including Zora Neale Hurston, Ida B. Wells, and Congresswoman Shirley Chisholm, to reveal how black women have transcended the double discrimination of being both black and female. "A triumphant study".--Publishers Weekly.

Table of Contents

Preface	5	(12)
PART I: INVENTING THEMSELVES
``To Sell My Life as Dearly as Possible'': Ida B. Wells and the First Antilynching Campaign	17	(16)
Casting of the Die: Morality, Slavery, and Resistance	33	(24)
To Choose Again, Freely	57	(18)
Prelude to a Movement	75	(10)
Defending Our Name	85	(10)
``To Be a Woman, Sublime'': The Ideas of the National Black Women's Club Movement (to 1917)	95	(24)
The Quest for Woman Suffrage (Before World War I)	119	(16)
PART II: A WORLD WAR AND AFTER: THE ``NEW NEGRO'' WOMAN
Cusp of a New Era	135	(18)
The Radical Interracialists	153	(18)
A New Era: Toward Interracial Cooperation	171	(12)
A Search for Self	183	(16)
Enter Mary McLeod Bethune	199	(18)
Black Braintruster: Mary McLeod Bethune and the Roosevelt Administration	217	(14)
A Second World War and After	231	(30)
PART III: THE UNFINISHED REVOLUTION
Dress Rehearsal for the Sixties	261	(16)
SNCC: Coming Full Circle	277	(22)
The Women's Movement and Black Discontent	299	(26)
Strong Women and Strutting Men: The Moynihan Report	325	(12)
A Failure of Consensus	337	(12)
Outlook	349	(10)
Source Notes	359	(30)
Selected Bibliography	389	(6)
Index	395

Excerpts

When and Where I Enter
The Impact of Black Women on Race and Sex in America

Chapter One

"To Sell My Life as Dearly as Possible":
Ida B. Wells and the First Antilynching Campaign

Before they took his life, they asked Thomas Moss if he had anything to say. "Tell my people to go west," he told his abductors. "There is no justice for them here."1 With those final words, Thomas Moss and two of his friends, Calvin McDowell and Henry Stewart, were lynched a mile outside of Memphis, Tennessee. A newspaper account of the mob-murder pointed out that the men did not die without a struggle. McDowell had tried to wrestle a gun from the hands of one of the killers. When the Black man's body was recovered, the fingers of his right hand had been shot to pieces; his eyes were gouged out.

The lynching of March 9, 1892, was the climax of ugly events in Memphis. From the time the three Black men had gone into business for themselves, their People's Grocery, as it was called, had been the target of White resentment. The store, which sold food and miscellaneous items and became a gathering place for Memphis Blacks, represented, after all, a desire for economic independence. The start-up capital for the grocery had been provided by Moss, a postman who was the city's first Black to hold a federal position. He worked in the store evenings, while his partners worked there during the day.

For Whites the most galling thing about the People's Grocery was that it took away business from a White store owner who had long been used to a monopoly of Black trade. The White proprietor initiated against the Black businessmen a series of provocations that culminated in an attack of armed thugs sent to raze the grocery. The attack came on a Saturday night, when the store was full of Black men--armed Black men--who repelled the invaders and shot three Whites in the process. In short order Moss, McDowell, and Stewart were arrested along with one hundred other Blacks charged with conspiracy.

The White press in Memphis whipped the community into a frenzy over the incident. The Black men were painted as "brutes" and "criminals" who victimized "innocent" Whites. If the wounded men died, Blacks were warned, there was going to be a bloodletting. The threat hung heavy in the air. Whites were permitted to enter the jail where the Blacks were interned to "look them over." Outside, Blacks stood vigil to discourage the possibility of mob violence.

The vigil ended when it was reported that the Whites would recover from their gunshot wounds--for the Blacks thought their friends would now be safe. They were wrong. In a predawn raid, Moss, McDowell, and Stewart were taken from their cells, put on the switch engine of a train headed out of the city, and lynched. In the angry aftermath of the killing, a judge issued an order for the sheriff to shoot any Black demonstrator who seemed to be "causing trouble," and prohibited the sale of guns to Blacks. Emboldened by the order, and unappeased by the death of the three men, armed Whites converged upon the People's Grocery, helped themselves to food and drink, then destroyed most of what they couldn't consume or steal. Creditors auctioned the brutalized remnants and the store was closed down on an ominous note of finality.

If the incident had occurred in any other time or place, it might have been set down as just another dreary statistic. Lynching (legally defined as murder committed by a mob of three or more persons) of Blacks had been on the rise for the last decade. In 1892, the year of the Memphis murders, there had been 255 lynchings, more than in any previous year.2 But the deaths of Moss, McDowell, and Stewart would open a new chapter in the racial struggle, for they spurred two women to dedicate their lives to the fight against lynching and the malevolent impulses that underlined it. Two women named Mary Church Terrell and Ida B. Wells.

Terrell was living in Washington, D.C., when she heard the terrible news. Born Mary Church in Memphis, Tennessee, she had been a friend of Thomas Moss since childhood. Terrell had seen him less than a year before in Memphis, at her wedding. That had been such a happy time. She had just returned from two years of study in Europe, and it was so good to see her Memphis friends again--especially Moss. For a wedding present he gave her a set of elegant silver oyster forks.

Moss's death was particularly unsettling for Terrell at this time in her life. She was twenty-nine and, though expecting her first child, had not found peace of mind in domestic tranquility. That she always wanted to work had been a point of contention between Mary and her father since her graduation from Oberlin eight years before. A former slave who became one of the wealthiest Blacks in the country, Robert Church wanted his daughter to live the life of a gentlewoman. Ladies didn't work, he always told her. But Mary continually defied that notion. She taught at Wilberforce University and later at Washington Colored High School, despite her father's threats to disinherit her. In D.C. she met Robert Terrell, principal of the highly touted Black public school. She married him and settled in Washington, where the future of her husband--a Harvard graduate and lawyer bound for a municipal judgeship--was assured. The marriage and difficult pregnancy had almost persuaded Terrell to try to live the life of a "lady," as her father would put it. But then came the news about Thomas Moss.

She sought out an old family friend, the abolitionist Frederick Douglass, and together they secured an appointment with President Benjamin Harrison at the White House. They implored him to condemn lynching in his annual address before Congress.

When and Where I Enter
The Impact of Black Women on Race and Sex in America. Copyright © by Paula Giddings. Reprinted by permission of HarperCollins Publishers, Inc. All rights reserved. Available now wherever books are sold.

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Excerpted from When and Where I Enter: The Impact of Black Women on Race and Sex in America by Paula J. Giddings
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