CIVIL RIGHTS STORIES: my father

My father, Herbert L. Woods, was the Chairman of C.O.R.E. in Washington DC during the later of the 1960's. I remember what I learned, what I saw, and I remember the marches Daddy took my sister and I on.  My father set up the famous meeting with President Johnson and the Civil Rights leaders of the time. These were Daddy's peers. I asked Daddy why he was not in the picture and he told me something compelling within the man, and typical of people burning and full of who they are and what is significant and sure about their lives.

Daddy looked at me and said, "At the last minute before the White House photographer clicked the picture I stepped out and away because I did not come into this world to be famous."

Daddy is 81 years old, and two months ago buried his wife, and my mother. I mention this for an unobvious reason. A few short years ago Daddy was speaking, at my request, at Spingarn High School in Washington DC about his experiences during the Civil Rights movement and his tenure as chairman of the Congress of Racial Equality. One of the young men asked why he got out of service. Daddy pointed at me across the circle, and said, "Because of his mother."

The boys and young men did not understand him.

"His mother came to me one day and said, 'Herb, if you want me to raise these five children you need to come home'... I quit. Right then I quit and came home."

Incredulous another probed wanting to know Daddy's thoughts. "What should we have done after the Civil Rights movement as a people?"

Without hesitation Daddy said, "We should have gone into the churches and unearthed the soul and the source of our tragedies. But, we didn't. Until we do the Black Church will never be effective again. The Black Church has gone as far as it can go..."

"Why not? Why didn't we? Did you?" the questions came. Daddy grew more intense darkening his countenance with thought and recollection, and said, "I did go back into the church. But, it was frightening, and hard to do because Black people own their tragedies!" said with his own arms wrapped around himself to drive the point home.

For long moments there was silence. You could have heard a pin drop, and an ant piss on cotton it was so quiet before the discussion continued. This was one of the few elder talks young people are privy to today. More of these sacred circles are needed for children and grandchildren to hear the definitive stories told. Television is a great and powerful media, but the intimacy of circles is old, timeless, and a primal form of bonding, and listening and telling and feeling the forces of Life. Those circles are birthing places.

These are my words. - Gregory E. Woods, Keeper of Stories 6.14.13

Black Man hanging from a noose. Look at the pride and the contempt, and contentment  upon their faces. The children. What could the children have thought and felt in the midst of, the revelation of a legacy like this. I know Black folks reviewing the history of Euro-Americans always stop in their tracks learning how deeply ingrained is the sense of entitlement white felt watching, or participating in the beheading, the hangings of colored people, as a form of entertainment. It has baffled and terrified me, as well as others the length of our lives!

There was a saying amongst white men in those days. "A man ain't a man 'til he's had himself a nigger!" What they meant cripples good sense and good reason. White men meant to degrade Negro men as deeply as they could, and would gang rape Colored men at some point in his torture. This right of theirs was a rite-of-passage. Nationally unresolved, or settled the spiritual and emotional legacy haunts the country to this day. The practice of sodomy as induction and humiliation, as a weapon has formed many a tragic character in the world. This spirit is locked into and deeply ingrained into Southern culture, and America's essence. It has shaped, and continues to shape our lives, the constitution, and our foreign policies, but remains an unsettled spirit.

- Gregory E. Woods, Keeper of Stories