Cecilia Elizabeth O'Leary in To Die For: the Paradox Of American Patriotism (1999) declares the training hearts and minds was part of 19th century America nationalism.  O'Leary posits that although the nationalist movement was reinvigorated when the United States declared war against Spain on April 1898, militarist again faced opposition and debate after Spain's surrender four months later.  State-sanctioned rituals of patriotism became much more common, however.  The day immediately after the declaration of war.  New York enacted a law that made it the duty of the state sup indent of public instruction to prepare “a program providing for a salute to the flag at the opening of each day of school.”

The law also required the special observance of Lincoln's Birthday, Washington’s Birthday, Memorial Day, and Flag Day.  The Spanish-American War gave added impetus to the Grand Army's campaign to bring military instruction into the schools, but as the war escalated into a prolonged guerrilla combat against Filipino rebels who had fought for independence against Spain and now fought against U.S. Occupation, a small but vocal group emerged in opposition to imperialism.


Williams Jennings Bryan, who had organized the Third Regiment of the Nebraska Volunteers to defend “Cuba against foreign arms,” urged the country in December 1898 to refuse to enter “upon a career of conquest.”  Some opponents denounced the “spirit of militarism” as “savagery, not less so because it glitters with its helmets and moves to the rhythm of banners.”


For the time being, a less militaristic approach to teaching patriotism proved more popular.  In 1900, New York State superintendent, Charles Skinner, published a 350-page Manual of Patriotism, as directed by the state legislature for use in the public schools.  In close cooperation with the GAR, Skinner complied songs, quotes, and flag rituals aimed at inculcating a spirit of “unselfish patriotism and virtue” in students' hearts.  Skinner did not intend his manual to replace textbooks in American history, but he disagreed with educators in the NEA who argued that “patriotism is a rational sentiment, and its health and growth require a diet upon which the reason can feed.


Some educators even began to advocate a civic rather than a martial patriotism by stressing U.S. Accomplishments in promoting the general welfare of all peoples rather than wars.  The president of Brown University argued against the “turgid rhetoric and the pulmonary athleticism: displayed on Memorial Day and at flag-raising and instead called for teaching children a “high patriotism.”  Second, there is a “sentimental patriotism,” in which the “country has come to stand before the patriot's soul as the veritable chief good, to be fought for to the death if need be, he knows not why.”  Third, there is a “rational patriotism,” which develops out of the “reasoned conviction” that one's “country has been called by the Power above to an eminent role in the upward evolution of humanity.”  Public schools, he argued, do not exist for “the sake of any man as man, but to complete each pupil's civic character” by stimulating a rational patriotism.


Of course, the kind of patriotism and the level of knowledge developed out of civic-oriented activities varied widely and depended on the ability and philosophical orientation of the teacher.  As Richard Hofstadter has argued, the primary intent of public education was not to contribute to the expansion of knowledge but “to take a vast, heterogeneous, and mobile population, recruited from manifold sources and busy with manifold tasks, and forge it into nation, make it literate, and give it at least the minimal civic competence necessary to the operation of republican institutions.  Progressive teachers and patriots optimistically responded to the challenge of nation-building and endeavored to bring the full infrastructural potential of the public school system to the project, insisting that students actively partake in the process.


O'Leary notes that during World War I, attitudes toward the flag became the litmus test of patriotism.  Although the first flag protection bill was proposed in the  House of Representatives in 1878 and flag laws had been in effect since the 1890s, only small groups of patriots worried about their enforcement and mainly targeted advertises and candidates from both parties for what they considered flag desecration.


Nonetheless, prosecutions between 1895 and 1917 remained few and far between.  A number of prominent leaders, such as the president of Brown University opposed making the flag into a fetish and warned that “true patriotic sentiment” came from “what the stars and stripes stand for : liberty, union, rights, law, power for good among nations.”


However, the Daughters and Sons of the American Revolution, on the other hand, were among the most morally indignant opponents of popular and entrepreneurial use of the flag, which they regarded as a form of lowbrow treason.


In 1907, however, the flag movement gained new life when the U.S. Supreme court upheld the constitutionality of flag desecration laws in Halter v. Nebraska.  The flag, according to the court, must be protected just as religious symbols are kept sacred: “The flag is the emblem of national authority.  To the citizen it is an object of Patriotic adoration, emblematic of all for which his country stands—her institutions, her achievements, her long roster of heroic dead, the story of her past, the promise of her future.”  The U.S. Supreme Court agreed.  “A duty rests upon each State in every legal way to encourage its people to love the Union with which the State is indissolubly connected.


Although the patriotic lobby was finally successful in getting the government to enforce reverence for the flag, the new laws were used, not against the businessmen and politicians who routinely draped their products and campaigns in the country's colors, but against political opponents of the war and immigrant Americans suspected of divided loyalties.


The politicization of flag laws during World War I, unlike the earlier flag prosecutions that waxed and wanted in the first decade of the twentieth century, spurred nationalist to prosecute “UN-Americans” with a vengeance.  In the highly charged atmosphere of World War I, avid nationalist wielded the Stars and Stripes as a weapon in their cultural arsenal.


Patriots also increasingly turned to vigilante justice.  “The victims of mob violence were varied,” recalled the IWW organizer Elizabeth Gurley Flynn, including “Christian ministers, Negro and white, advocates of peace on religious, moral or political grounds; Socialists etc.


During World War I, an alliance between government leaders, conservative political forces, industrialists, business corporations, and patriotic organizations effectively marginalized the liberal wing of Progressives and repressed leftist opposition.  “All the radical and liberal friends of your anti-imperialist war policy were either silenced or intimidated,” wrote George Creel to President Wilson after the 1918 Congressional elections.  “The Department of Justice and the Post Office were allowed to silence and intimidate them.”


Senator Hiram Johnson concluded that “the war has set back the people for a generation.  They have bowed to a hundred repressive acts.”  The retreat of middle-class liberals, the total destruction of the IWW and immobilization of the Socialist Party and the disarming of political opposition and militant unionism shifted the politics of the United States to the right for an entire decade and established the terms of anticommunist discourse that would endure until the end of the Cold War.

During World War I, Anglo-Protestants asserted that they were the only group capable of self-government.  An official patriotic culture—defined by the ascendance of national power, shaped by the language of masculinity, infused with martial spirit, and narrowed by the imposition of Racialized and anti-radical criteria defined by Anglo superiority and political intolerance—eclipsed competing interpretations.

As in Europe, a nationalism developed in which loyalty was attached not just to a particular country but to an ideologically constructed and politically exclusive version of what that country should represent.  Black Americans returned from World War I to find that the language of patriotism no longer held out the promise of inclusion and equality under which they had fought.

In the war's aftermath, the American Legion, which replaced the Grand Army o the Republic as the nation's military conscience, spearheaded the drive to promote a conservative political ethos and enforce “100 percent Americanism.”  Federal intervention in national culture continued as the government and business elites allied to suppress the rise of radicalism and militant unionism in the strike wave of 1919; the federal agencies and troops  fueled  the Red Scare with raids in which radicals whose only crime was membership in targeted organizations were rounded up, arrested, and deported; Congress imposed immigration restrictions in 1921 and again in 1924 to guard against the influx of inferior “races”; and states throughout the 1920s enacted coercive decrees against teaching in languages other than English.  After the Red Summer of 1919—named for the bloodshed in the twenty-five race riots—some vigilante groups receded, but a revived Ku Klux Klan gained popularity by adding Catholics, Jews, and foreigners to its list of un-Americans.

The seeming hegemony of this militarist, racist, and exclusive brand of patriotism, however, provoked new contradictions.  Efforts to forcefully impose a sense of cultural homogeneity in a country still profoundly divided by differences of race, class, ethnicity, gender, and region generated as much fracturing and insubordination as it did unity and consolidation.  Janus-faced, the culture of patriotism proceeded along an ambivalent path.

As Eric Hobsbawn has noted, overly exclusive definitions of citizenship can backfire, alienating those who refuse or are denied the terms of assimilation while encouraging super-patriots to take matters into their own hands.

After WWI, right-wing organizations like the Ku Klux Klan and the American Legion promoted a “virile Christian nationalism,” each claiming to be the exclusive arbiter of true Americanism.  Meanwhile thousands of working-class blacks felt thoroughly disillusioned with the U.S. And supported Marcus Garvey's Pan-African nationalism.  Black people, Garvey argued, had helped the united states in all of her wars—always bringing back the “glory of the flag,” having made sure that it never “touched the dust”--and now it was time for white American to let black people realize their own separatist mission.

Ultimately, the campaign to impose political and Anglo-conformity failed despite the devastation they imposed.  This, in spite of the civil-rights movement losing ground as African American soldiers were lynched and whites rioted against blacks who refused to submit to a separate and unequal status.

Despite such unrelenting repress, the cultural and social diversity of the American people, combined with its long traditions of political debate and resistance, confounded and undermined the absolute imposition of “100 percent Americanism.”  WWI and its aftermath revealed one of the paradoxes of American nationalism.  Even though all the institutional trappings and mechanisms of a homogeneous national culture were in place, an intolerant and Racialized patriotism exacerbated divisions, forcing radicals, immigrants, and African Americans into the margins, where each continued to generate political and cultural meanings from the “in-between spaces” of the nation-state.


Survivors of infamous 1921 Tulsa race riot still hope for justice

Witness to the destruction of their world, they are dying before reparations can reach them

Tulsa race riots
The Greenwood neighborhood of Tulsa, Oklahoma, after the Tulsa race riot.
Tulsa Historical Society

TULSA, Okla. They called it Black Wall Street.

It was only a 1-square-mile area on the north side of Tulsa, but for blacks in the 1900s, Greenwood was everything the South was not. Filled with black lawyers, doctors and business owners, flush with prosperity, here was an area where African-Americans finally had a chance to make something of themselves, escaping the harsh racism of a nation that deprived them of even the most basic dignities.

A dollar would circulate 19 times before leaving Greenwood, a byproduct of the segregation laws, which kept blacks from shopping anywhere else but also united the community financially. There was affluence and education in Greenwood not seen anywhere else in the country for African-Americans, and each day more people were coming to carve out a piece of the dream for themselves, adding to the prosperity of the neighborhood.

Tulsa race riots
African-Americans taken prisoner during the riot. An armed white man rides on the running board of the truck.
Tulsa Historical Society

This was the town Olivia Hooker was born in, the place she called home as a little girl, an African-American child oblivious to the racism plaguing the country until the day in 1921 when all of her neighborhood would be wiped off the map in the space of a day: the bank, the elegant brick homes, the Red Wing Hotel, Mann’s Grocery, the Dreamland Theatre, even her father’s department store, the Sam D. Hooker Store at 124 Greenwood Avenue.

On May 30, 1921, a young black man was accused of assaulting a white woman. That accusation was the tipping point for a town already reeling from racial tension, and would turn into the worst 24 hours in the city’s history, known as the Tulsa Race Riot.

Hooker is 99 now, a retired teacher living in White Plains, New York. But when the riot happened, she was 6, exposed for the first time to the brutal realities of discrimination and hatred. She was devastated.

“And so when this terrible thing happened, it really destroyed my faith in humanity,” she said. “And it took a good long while for me to get over it.”

There are fewer than a dozen survivors of the riot, which Hooker refers to as “the catastrophe.” And for nearly a century now, the survivors have been seeking reparations for the destruction of their homes and businesses. Despite their best efforts, they have come up empty-handed.

Experts and historians may have differing accounts of what happened, but they all agree on one thing: It’s likely that the survivors will die before they receive what they are seeking.

Tulsa race riot
Thousands of families were left homeless from the fire that raged through the 35 blocks of Greenwood during the riot.
Tulsa Historical Society

Tulsa wasn’t the first city to experience a race riot, and it would not be the last. Racial disturbances were commonplace at the time, as the nation struggled to grapple with its rapidly changing culture.

During the “Red Summer of 1919,” there were more than two dozen race riots across the country. In Chicago, tensions mounted over housing, job prospects and which race had use of certain recreational areas, resulting in a bloody riot. Washington, D.C., experienced its own unrest after a white woman fabricated a story of being raped by two black men, a common lie of the time that was then inflamed by the white press, kicking off yet another riot.

There were similar eruptions in Knoxville, Tennessee, and Omaha, Nebraska, that summer. And even after Tulsa, a rape accusation was the cause of a riot in Rosewood, a black community in Florida that was burned to the ground in 1923.


Olivia Hooker, 99, is one of the last survivors of the 1921 Tulsa Race Riot. While her family home survived the destruction, the family lost everything else they had – including her father’s department store. She shared her memory of the experience with Al Jazeera America.

'It really destroyed my faith in humanity'

Hooker, who was only 6 at the time of the riot, had never experienced racism before the mobsters burned down Greenwood. After she witnessed white Tulsans loot her town, her perceptions of race were dramatically altered.

In Tulsa, it all started because of an incident between Dick Rowland, a black man, and Sarah Page, a young white woman, in an elevator at the Drexel Building. It’s not exactly clear what the chain of events was — even the state’s official report lists a variety of stories surrounding what happened — but most credible accounts agree on the basic facts.

On May 30, 19-year-old Rowland was riding in an elevator operated by 17-year-old Page. Rowland tripped as he was exiting the elevator and grabbed Page’s arm in an attempt to steady himself. She screamed, and he fled the elevator as a white clerk from a nearby store came to investigate the noise. He assumed Page, apparently distraught from the incident, had been assaulted by Rowland and called the police.

Like a game of telephone, the story became more inflammatory with each retelling, and spread rapidly. Rowland hid in Greenwood, terrified he’d be lynched for allegedly raping a white girl. He was arrested the next morning and taken to the courthouse, where a vigilante mob had arrived to demand that police turn him over to the crowd.

Tulsa race riots
Armed white men ride with a few black men in the car during the riot.
Tulsa Historical Society

A group of black men, many of them World War I veterans, armed themselves and went to the courthouse to protect Rowland, determined that a black person would not be lynched in their town.

More than 75 of them twice arrived at the courthouse to offer their services to defend Rowland against a mob of thousands of angry whites. They were twice denied. Their departure from the courthouse the second time would be the tipping point.

According to the official report, a white man approached one of the black men, who was armed with a revolver.

“Nigger, what are you going to do with that pistol?” he said.

“I’m going to use it if I need to,” the black man replied.

The white man demanded he hand it over, and he refused. When the white man tried to disarm him, the gun went off and the riot began.

Over the course of 24 hours, Greenwood would be looted, set ablaze and literally burned off the map. All 35 blocks were gone.

When the smoke cleared on June 1, more than $1.5 million in damage (about $20 million in contemporary dollars) had been done; as many as 300 people, black and white, had been killed; and thousands of black families were left homeless, with nothing but rubble and ash to call home.

Tulsa race riots
The damage to the Williams Dreamland Theatre in Greenwood.
Tulsa Historical Society

Even then, there were people who wanted to pay restitution.

According to a 1921 New York Times article, Judge Loyal J. Martin, a former mayor of Tulsa who chaired the first race riot committee — the Tulsa City Commission — just days after the attack, said in a mass meeting that the city could redeem itself and move forward only “by complete restitution and rehabilitation of the destroyed black belt.”

"The rest of the United States must know that the real citizenship of Tulsa weeps at this unspeakable crime and will make good the damage, so far as it can be done, to the last penny,” he said.

But that never happened. Insurance companies denied claims from African-Americans, leaving them with nothing but the clothes on their backs, forced to start over or leave. Blacks tried to sue the city and state for damages but had their claims blocked or denied, according to the official report.

On June 14, just two weeks after the riot, Mayor T.D. Evans addressed the commission, telling it that the incident was “inevitable” and that the victims “should receive such help as we can give them.”

But then he said something else: “Let us immediately get to the outside fact that everything is quiet in our city, that this menace has been fully conquered, and that we are going on in a normal condition.”

In other words: The city should move on. And for 90 years, that’s what happened.

After an initial flurry of reports, with articles appearing as far away as the London Times, news of the “troubles” in Tulsa vanished.

Tulsa race riot
An African-American man is detained during the riot.
Tulsa Historical Society

Greenwood did rebuild, bigger and better than it was before. But desegregation claimed Greenwood just as it did every black town in the United States; given the opportunity to spend money outside their own neighborhood for the first time, and the chance to live in areas previously off limits to them, African-Americans slowly but steadily moved away from the area, and the businesses left with them.

The Greenwood of today looks nothing like the once famous area. A highway overpass cuts right through the middle of the neighborhood. The sidewalks along Greenwood Avenue and Archer Street are lined with hundreds of plaques that each list the name of a business that was destroyed in the riot and whether or not it was rebuilt. Many were not.

But just behind the businesses on Greenwood Avenue is a shiny new baseball stadium, and across the street is a new luxury condominium building. A large chunk of Greenwood is now home to the Tulsa campuses of both Oklahoma State University and Langston University.

More from Olivia Hooker

'...the families who had brought their children to watch the destruction...'

As the mob spread through Greenwood and the National Guard arrived to evacuate black residents from their homes, Hooker’s mother saw crowds of people standing on a nearby hillside watching the disaster – with their children in tow. Hooker describes the speech her mother gave to the onlookers of the destruction.

'We thought we might live long enough to see something happen...'

After 93 years of fighting for restitution, Hooker admits it is not likely she’ll ever receive anything.

Tulsa race riot
Tulsa Historical Society

From the time of the riot, whole generations of Tulsans have grown up never hearing a word about the darkest moment in the city’s history.

Damario Solomon-Simmons, an African-American attorney in Tulsa, is one of them.

A native of North Tulsa, Solomon-Simmons attended Carver Middle School — on Greenwood Avenue — and still didn’t learn about Greenwood and the riots until he took an African-American studies course at the University of Oklahoma.

All of it — the business district and the homes, the sudden destruction — left him flabbergasted. He argued with his professor, telling him, “You’re wrong! I’m from Tulsa, I’m from North Tulsa, I’ve never seen or heard of anything like that.’’

Marc Carlson, a historian and archivist at the University of Tulsa who oversees the school’s race riot collection, said many of his students don’t know either, not even the ones from Tulsa.

“I don’t know why that is,” he said, adding that the state Legislature requires schools to include the riot in their curriculum.

Oddly, there is more awareness of the event in other countries than in the U.S.

Michelle Place, executive director of the Tulsa Historical Society, said requests for information about the riot are the society’s No. 1 inquiry.

"About a month ago I talked to someone in New Zealand. I’ve talked to Tokyo, I’ve talked to London,” said Place.

She can understand why city leaders might be reluctant to put it in school textbooks. But why, she wondered, didn’t the tale survive orally?

“The fact that it’s not just one of those things that we all knew took place,” she said and paused, “… takes my breath away, brings me up short.”

Tulsa race riots
A dead body in the street, June 1, 1921.
Tulsa Historical Society

Despite suffering massive losses from the riot, many people in the black community did not and still do not know about it, said Mechelle Brown, program coordinator at the Greenwood Cultural Center.

Many whites were ashamed of the incident, she said, so it would make sense that they wouldn’t want to talk about it. But it was also hushed up in the black community. Why, she wondered, wouldn’t they want people to know what happened to them?

Tulsa race riot
Firefighters extinguish the flames during the riot.
Tulsa Historical Society

“But blacks, we asked years ago, ‘Why did you not talk about it?’ And they said that after the race riot, when they came back here and there was absolutely nothing to come home to, that they felt those same feelings of anger and resentment and bitterness and fear,” Brown said. “But they had to think about the next day, and the day after.”

Brown understands why they wouldn’t want to relive that pain, she said. At the same time, she sees it as a missed opportunity.

“It robbed us of something. It robbed us of our history. It robbed us of where we come from.”

Tulsa race riot Ku Klux Klan
A Ku Klux Klan gathering in Drumright, Oklahoma, 1922. The Klan's presence in Oklahoma increased after the riot.
Tulsa Historical Society

In 2001, 80 years after the destruction of Greenwood, the Tulsa Race Riot Commission recommended in a 178-page report that survivors be paid reparations, calling it a “moral obligation.”

“Justice demands a closure as it did with Japanese Americans and Holocaust victims of Germany,” the report reads. The issue is not if reparations are to be paid, but “which government entity should provide financial repair to the survivors and the condemned community that suffered under vigilante violence?”

Paying reparations was just not something Oklahomans were interested in entertaining.

Brown said that almost as soon as word got out about the possibility of reparations, the Greenwood Cultural Center began to receive hate mail and angry, anonymous phone calls from people who did not support paying out. A lot of the calls were similar: “I wasn’t here, my parents weren’t involved in it.”

The Oklahoma state Legislature accepted the report and the “moral responsibility on behalf of the state and its citizens” but flatly refused to pay any type of reparations.

More than 200 people sued the state, seeking recourse for damages. The survivors weren’t asking for individual checks for themselves or their descendants; they wanted educational benefits such as scholarships for students in the area to attend historically black colleges and universities and health benefits for descendants who remained in Greenwood.

Unfortunately, Oklahoma law requires that civil rights lawsuits be filed within two years of an event, and District Judge James O. Ellison noted that the clock began ticking right after the riot. The U.S. Supreme Court said the same.

Tulsa race riot
A plaque at the Greenwood Cultural Center lists the unpaid financial claims from the homeowners and business people of Greenwood. Some went bankrupt.
Dexter Mullins

For Solomon-Simmons, an attorney who worked with the victims’ legal team, having the case denied by the nation’s highest court just added insult to injury.

“I felt like we were right. We had the facts on our side. I think we should have had the law on our side,” he said. “I still get exceedingly, if I’m frank, pissed off, just thinking about the fact that we were not able to get redress for the survivors and their descendants.”

Tulsa did construct the John Hope Franklin Reconciliation Park in the middle of Greenwood, a memorial to the destruction and a tribute to the survivors. It’s one of two monuments in the area — the other is in front of the Greenwood Cultural Center and was built with money raised exclusively by the center several years before the reconciliation park.

Tulsa race riots
The Mabel B. Little Heritage House, one of the few homes to survive the riot, is maintained by the Greenwood Cultural Center. The home is filled with items typical of a home in 1920s Greenwood.
Marc Carlson

Despite articles appearing in publications over the years, most people in the U.S. still have no idea the event even occurred. There is a major push from the Tulsa Historical Society, the Greenwood Cultural Center and the University of Tulsa to fix that.

The historical society has digitized its riot archive and put the collection onto an app, hoping to satisfy the seemingly unyielding demand for information about the riot, and to reach new people.

The app launched in May for $9.99, and as more material comes in, it will update so people can see the latest information. UT is also digitizing the cultural center’s archives so the information can be shared online.

The survivors may not have won their case, but at least now people may finally learn about the prosperity they once had.

After they lost their appeals, not much has happened in the way of paying the few remaining survivors. Old age and time has claimed the lives of many of them, and more die every year without any restitution.

There are some efforts in Congress to try and help. Rep. John Conyers, D-Mich., introduces a bill every year on the floor of the House to remove the statute of limitations in the Greenwood case to allow the survivors’ lawsuit to go forward. But that bill — along with the one Conyers presents each year to study reparations for slavery — is not likely to ever get further than that introduction, especially in today’s divided Congress.

“We thought we might live long enough to see something happen, but even though I’ve lived 99 years, nothing of that sort has actually happened,” Hooker said. “You keep hoping, you keep hope alive, so to speak.”

After all, it did take 80 years before the survivors of the riot even got an official apology from the city of Tulsa. Mayor Kathy Taylor held a “celebration of conscience” and honored with a medal each of the survivors the city could contact.

But Hooker,who was the first African American woman to serve in the Coast Guard and went on to earn a doctorate's in psychology, remains optimistic.

“We’ll just keep right on trying, never giving up. Never, never giving up.”

Solomon-Simmons, on the other hand, isn’t nearly as hopeful.

The collective failure to act, to pay the victims, to set up a scholarship fund or make a real attempt at restitution is a “stain on our nation,” he said.

“And it’s sad to know that they’re probably all going to die without receiving anything,” he added. “Unfortunately, black life in America is still not worth that much.”

Tulsa race riot
Sculptor Ed Dwight created three statues to convey the hostility, humiliation and hope experienced by the Greenwood neighborhood. Found in the John Hope Franklin Reconciliation Park, this statue represents humiliation.

Despite such unrelenting repress, the cultural and social diversity of the American people, combined with its long traditions of political debate and resistance, confounded and undermined the absolute imposition of “100 percent Americanism.”  WWI and its aftermath revealed one of the paradoxes of American nationalism.  Even though all the institutional trappings and mechanisms of a homogeneous national culture were in place, an intolerant and Racialized patriotism exacerbated divisions, forcing radicals, immigrants, and African Americans into the margins, where each continued to generate political and cultural meanings from the “in-between spaces” of the nation-state.

The question whether national allegiance would serve emancipatory aims had been silenced but not settled.  Between the regimes of intolerance that ruled the country during and after World War I and World War II [and the Vietnam War], the U.S. witnessed one of the most radical periods in its history as the New Woman, the New Negro, and revived labor and leftist movements once again challenged the nation to guarantee equality as a condition of loyalty.

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Comment by mary gravitt on October 15, 2018 at 1:02pm

Let America be America again seems like an oxymoron because America seems to be reliving its past in the racism and bigotry passing for democracy since the elections of Donald Trump.  Yet with all the history of suffering of Blacks in America since 1619, they have always been patriotic.  We are patriotic in our protest and in our faith that the American experiment cannot fail because we invented it.

Comment by Robert B. James on October 15, 2018 at 3:32pm

I’m fine with the truth. I argued for a truthful telling of the history of Charleston, SC back in 2008 while studying public history in grad school. The truth is that this place the Europeans call America has always been a tribal affair...always, no matter what history books try to make us believe. Being a descendent of Europeans that were here around the same time as the Mayflower, but not religious fanatics, I define myself as native, and I do not care whom that offends. What other choice do I have? Self identification as European could never work for me...I tried it for a bit, until I realized that the roots I might have clung to were as dead and gone as the tribe who lived on the estuary of my youth. I am that tribe. That tribe may or may not have eaten their enemies, and had they not been exterminated by Europeans first, might have eaten them too. Too bad.  I believe place is more important than any cultural construct. Place is far more important than race, and diversity in a place, state, or even nation is the best path to security for all parties. Arguing against the other is tribal, but without a place to defend...a home to return to, We are nothing but cannon or corporate fodder. Point of entry erased, but now being recovered...the south is yet to be taken by the people who were forced to endure and adapt to European culture in the place of the vanquished. Without place...we are reduced to whatever  the enterprise demands us to become. We have no home to return to but what the enterprise decides our present value is exchanged for. What we all desire is a place, secure, familiar and where we justly belong. I do not have that...and have not known this feeling for decades. The enterprise that Europeans call America has no place for those whom value cannot be extracted. Race is a cultural construct that the ignorant cling to, especially when truth has been kept from them too long. 

Comment by mary gravitt on October 17, 2018 at 12:04pm

The Revolution of revealing truth in the 21st century begins in the voting booth.  Truth always needs help because as both Hitler and Goebbels let be know, a lie to be true only takes repeating loud and long and a man like Trump is experienced at lying and having himself believed.  Racism, no love, seems to be the strongest political force in America.  This is scary.

Comment by Robert B. James on October 18, 2018 at 11:41am

The revolution begins in one’s mind. Lies can never be truth, no matter how often believed. Most of us never believed Trump. Less than 23% of registered voters voted for him. However Clinton was not believed to be truthful either, and just got a bit more vote than Trump. But most registered voters did not even vote...which is how this pathological liar got as far as he has. Apathy is not is deadly. Racism is ignorance...and should also not be feared. Ignorance is the strongest political force in this place the Europeans named America, second only to greed. 


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