Bible lessons in piney woods

Many of us were outraged by the sexually explicit and racist language used by public figures to denigrate women and African Americans last week. Unfortunately, we have come to expect extreme and inaccurate characterizations of those who disagree with various political positions. However, the language used to describe Sandra Fluke and our President's mother was particularly offensive. It echoes the types of vicious rhetoric that has been used to oppress women and those of color for generations.

As a young man, I learned firsthand about the appalling nature of disrespect and disempowerment of women. In 1970 I spent an enlightening summer teaching Bible School to a group of vibrant and inspiring teenaged girls in Southern Mississippi. Initially, I wasn't impressed with the task that had been laid before me. I accompanied my father-in-law as he drove, deep into the piney woods of Harrison County. We were recruiting for summer Bible school students. I was to be the Bible school superintendent for three scattered class sites, and teacher of high school age students at one. We arrived at a clearing where smoke was rising from the tin chimney of one of three small houses set on cement blocks. A sawed-off half-barrel oaken washtub with a faded galvanized washboard sat in place near the well. A large pot steamed on the kitchen woodstove, relishing the sun shining through the open door. One faded grey outhouse near the kitchen leaned over, unusable; another with fresh rough-sawn siding stood ready. On the edge of the clearing a tethered cow grazed on remnants of grass pushing through the red sandy soil.

I was not impressed. The scene was a little too reminiscent of my grandparent's place in Oklahoma in the 1940's. Having progressed in my early teens into electric lights, flush toilets and milking machines for our dairy herd, I knew the folks who lived here were not of my class. Furthermore, I couldn't help noticing they were black, very dark skinned, and the kids were dirty. Dad walked right up to the kitchen door, hat in hand, did not knock, but called out, "I'm Reverend Orlo Kaufman wishing to speak with Ms. Betsy." An elderly black woman cheerily walked to the open door, greeting him warmly as "Mr. Orlo." After a short visit both of them looked at me. Too shy to leave the car, I simply waved. The racist attitudes I grew up with in Southern Iowa were only beginning to creep into my consciousness.

The following Monday under the spreading branches of a live oak, a picnic table provided my classroom furniture. For ten morning sessions, ten girls, all teenagers, took over the benches. We started reading the assigned Bible passage. They managed very well taking turns, helping each other as needed in writing the exercises. After midmorning recess I got out my Ebony magazine copies, acquired in bulk from the publisher, and passed them around. We read some articles, but they mostly looked at the pictures, especially family pictures. The questions flew, "Are these real people? Are the pictures painted?" They had never seen pictures of black people except their own family portraits. Life Magazine, the model for the publishers of Ebony, had just begun color photos but continued the policy of no "colored people" models. Ebony magazine had "colored people" for models, but only in black and white.

My education was just beginning. I had been warned by one of the grandmothers, "Those girls will talk you to death; shut them up and make them listen to you." Instead of shutting them down, I decided to listen. So they talked. I learned about the long history of abuse of Black women and girls in Harrison County, Miss. As I listened to their stories, I learned why the Harrison County Sheriff was the highest paid publicly elected official in the entire United States of America in 1962. He later was indicted on federal charges of tax evasion, but the illegal gambling, prostitution and hard liquor in North Gulfport remained for at least a decade.

Hideous racial, economic and gender bias was just a fact of life for these lovely young women and their families. They often used humor to cope with the racial stereotyping, sometimes at the expense of their slow-witted teacher. For example, one day they insisted on being photographed holding slices of watermelon. The set-up seemed rehearsed. They lined up, each with a slice of melon, held it in front of their faces, grinned big, and insisted I take their picture. "Why should I waste my camera on watermelon slices?" I demanded; "Put those down." They said "no, we're n… girls. And n…s love watermelons, didn't you know?" They all giggled hilariously, and finally agreed to peek around the drippy red slices.

That picture has stayed in my mind all these years. I'd like to be the kind of person who is always aware of what I do to support or detract from the dignity and worth of others. Since that day I have resolved to give no quarter, no compromise, to the moral values that built our nation. I don't believe that the views expressed by Rush Limbaugh and Judge Cebull reflect the base of the Republican party or the values of our nation as a whole. Let's be vigilant in defending our true civil, Christian, and family values and support those who are disempowered and verbally abused for the entertainment of others.

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David Graber
Hardin, MT 59034

www.greenwoodfarmmt.org
graberdb@gmail.com