Snippet #1845804

Henry smirked at Ms.Pheldman’s comments on the maturity of the sheriff. To Henry it always felt better knowing that someone, anyone, stood with him on his opinions, even if they didn’t know it at the time. In this world where a man such as he could not freely express his opinion without persecution Henry was glad to know there were those who would say what needed to be said for him.

Although American society at large continued to array cruel prejudice against Henry and his heritage chinks in the armor of hatred founded long ago were widening. The literary works of those who ushered in the Harlem Renaissance were burning away the darkness of segregation with the light of knowledge in the north. The new Egalitarian movement forming in the west—the resurgence of the abolitionists after the failure of Reconstruction following the American Civil War—was crusading ever forward for the equality which all citizens were ensured by right. National socio-economic labor movements such as the International Workers of the World and the American Federation of Labor now insisted that neither the color of a man’s skin, nor his place of origin had any bearing on his value. The eclectic community, for so many years dominated by conservative leadership was now re-examining its reasoning on the matter of race with prominent scientists such as Franz Boas and Ashely Motagu at the epicenter of the matter. A rising number of churches in the American heartland preached ever more fervently that the Lord’s holiness is instilled within all of his children. The federal government was coming to its senses knowing full well that the country, enduring a recession that had stricken the nation after an already devastating depression, would require all available working hands to recover. Not to mention the rising military aggression of Nazi Germany and Imperial Japan which was becoming an issue the U.S could no longer afford to ignore so nonchalantly. President Franklin Roosevelt knew that the United States could not afford to discriminate anymore; not in its armies and not in its war industry and to this end he and his allies in congress were meting out a measure of success in hammering integration legislation through a generations worth of deeply entrenched bigotry.

Times were changing and in big ways. Yet for Henry, a hardly literate black boy from the shambling shelters of the segregated outcrops of a rural South Carolina town, the scale of this wave of change was far beyond his reach and comprehension. It was not the socio-political machinations of nation-wide anti-racism organizations that gave him hope for the future. It was the daily resistance of individuals against injustice.

Individuals such as Bonnie and Bill who refused to accept a status quo that was embedded in the culture they were born into by two-hundred years of inhumanity towards man. Individuals who accepted that given the environment they lived in, the stance they took against the common establishment could cost them dearly.
Bonnie had already hefted the package for her father before henry even had a chance to insist otherwise. Not that she would have it any other way as the confidence in her voice reflected. The same went for her dinner offer. Henry had some pause at that one, but not because he didn’t want to go, on the contrary Henry felt joining the Pheldmans for supper was the best way to show his gratitude for Bonnie’s actions. Plus it would be good to shake the honest, hard-working hand of Mr.Pheldman and enjoy Mrs.Pheldman’s cooking again.

Nor was the pause a result of Henry’s prior obligations. Bonnie had offered to drive Henry to Shilo to deliver the goods he just purchased. The catfish he and Darrell ahd prepared would not be available to Darrell and the rest of the Buford family; mother and father would be home soon and Jasmin would be hungry soon. The timing couldn’t possibly be better. Darrell was more than capable of cooking the meal on his own. After all, Henry had taught him everything he in turn had learned from his mother.
No, the pause was not triggered for a logical reason. It was the flash of fear response to engrained social engineering. A negro ridding in an automobile to a black community with a white woman in the driver’s seat? Henry could be lynched for that if the wrong people caught wind. Henry had also learned by now that although not all white people were racist, not all racists were white. The black community in these parts—although substantially more tolerant than their white counterparts as a matter of necessity—were also not particularly partial to interracial couples. If they saw a black man and a white woman (or vice versa) together it was often the conclusion that there was something up between the two of them. Even if that wasn’t at all the case, people had a tendency to take things out of context.

Henry frowned at the prospects. Could this innocent little outing bring harm to his family? To Bonnie and her family? Would she wake up the next morning and find her house plastered in tar and horse shit? Would he wake up in the middle of the night to smoke and flame as the Buford shack burned down around him while an angry crowd waited outside eagerly clutching cudgels and guns?

Bonnie patiently awaited Henry’s answer; he sighed and bowed to the inevitable. “Thank you ma’—Bonnie, I’d be glad to be yo’ guest. Be nice to see them kind parents o’yours too.” Henry answered in a soft yet anxious tone. Bonnie and Bill had taken a stand against prejudice for Henry’s sake. It was time he did the same for his community.