Weekly Update

Since my last post we have visited Rowan Oak, visited a KIPP school in Helena, Arkansas, and met with both Otis Pickett and Reggie Barnes. Rowan Oak was particularly fascinating because so much of the property has remained as it was when William Faulkner lived (or should I say drank) there. The famous wall which allowed him to observe visitors before they saw him was still intact, his notes were still on the wall of his office, and his daughter’s radio was still by her bed. Even today, with development nearby, it was clear how important privacy was to him but what I found even more interesting was the impact his career had on his family. Our tour guide told a telling story in which Faulkner and his daughter quarreled over her radio, which was not allowed in the house. As the story goes, Faulkner informed her that “no one remembers Shakespeare’s daughter.” Both funny and absurd, this line is fitting but also makes me curious to learn more about his relationship with his family. I am sure it would reveal parts of him unseen in his writing.

           The KIPP school in Helena was uplifting. They seemed to be doing everything right. The teachers were genuinely interested and engaged with students, the school had well understood aspirations and regulations, and the students seemed challenged yet happy. During their lunch period I sat down with two fifth grade boys and asked them about their experiences at KIPP. Neither had a bad thing to say about the school, which was nice to hear, but even more telling was their intellectual curiosity. They knew the opportunity they had been given and clearly appreciated it.

            On Friday afternoon we traveled to De Soto, MS, to visit with Reggie Barnes. A former superintendent of West Tallahatchie County and native of Greenville, MS, Mr. Barnes has experienced every sphere of education in Mississippi. Upon graduating from Delta State he began his career as their “Dean of Mean,” while also becoming an award winning coach. I will start by saying that Mr. Barnes has a man-cave to which all other man-caves should aspire. That being said, he can also make a killer dinner. We enjoyed shrimp, fried trout from the Gulf, fried corn (something I had never had before), potato salad and fresh watermelon for dessert. However, the real treat came after dinner. Mr. Barnes spoke to us about his experiences, both integrating the high school in Greenville and after, rising professionally where few, if any, black men had ever been in Mississippi before. His recollections of growing up were captivating; he was brutally honest with us about his frustration and struggles to stay out of trouble in an atmosphere of increasing hostility. Equally as fascinating were his stories of interacting with high school classmates years later. Inherent in their encounters seemed to be a sense of shame, another legacy of the civil rights movement, which has yet to be absolved. Every time I hear someone speak about their experiences in the South during the fifties or sixties, I am amazed by how intimately those days have defined our world today. The collective psyche of each group has been constructed from those experiences, dictating their outlook today. To fail to understand that past, that psyche, will continue to undermine our collective present.

            Mr. Barnes also showed us a letter from 1856. It was a living will, which served as a de facto slave contract should the owner die. Reading this letter was exciting, a relic from the past, but also fundamentally strange. The language was colloquial and intelligent, yet the material was repugnant. The author’s obsession with passing his slave to the ownership of his daughter, and not that of his son-in-law, highlights the incredible distortion of perspective. We left Mr. Barnes' home warmed by his hospitality and inspired by his accomplishments. Our visit with him was uniquely satisfying and motivating. 

Day in the Life of Photo Journal

Hey Bri, let's go to work. (8:42 am)

Hey Bri, wait for me! (8:43 am)

Leaving the dorm (08:46 am)

Arriving at Guyton (9:00 bgst)

 Our office

 My desk

 Hey Bri, hurry up, I want to go to lunch!

Kicking in Vaught-Hemingway Stadium after work

Sunset from the top row of the stadium

Fairness

          Why is fairness important? That is the question I have been posed with this week. All summer the interns (with the oversight of Ben Guest) have had a running dialogue about the importance of fairness. Our definitions of fairness have varied, and yet we all seem to have reached similar conclusions: that fairness is indeed important. However, as we quickly realized, explanations for the relevance of fairness must have a certifiable origin, founded upon more than vague principles of good behavior. The importance of fairness, to be widely implemented, would have to cross the many barriers defining individual’s concepts of morality and justice, lest this discussion devolve into a pedantic succession of disagreements. We do not all abide by the same religion, believe in the same fundamental ethical code, or endorse similar governmental ideologies. Therefore, my argument must appeal to the basic interests of all, finding a common ground benefitting all.

            Personally, I think that fairness is deserved and predicated upon the fact that all humans are endowed with the same human rights regardless of race, sex, sexual orientation, faith, etc. This overarching concept of human rights has officially, if not I practice, been accepted by our government. However, just as these innate rights should be blind to age, race, sex, et al., so too should it be entirely independent of government. A citizen, a worldwide citizen, should have access to the same basic elements of fairness and justice. To fail to protect such would endanger all, as the exploitation of any is indicative of the possibility for the exploitation of all others. Simply put, to protect oneself from unfair or unethical treatment it is also necessary to grant the same protection to all others. To fail to do so is the assurance that mistreatment will someday violate your rights. The tides will turn.  

            That being said, my second and universal reason for the importance of fairness appeals to the selfish interest of our species as a whole: maximizing our potential for protecting and replicating ourselves. By promoting fairness, we inherently are promoting the progress of human kind. In theory, the cream would rise to the top. All things being equal, those most capable of contributing to society would be guaranteed an outlet. Rather than favoring those in power, with money, or from the right country, this scenario would select for those most “fit.” While, at the same time, collectively we would progress much more due to the contributions of all. Consider today’s global economy and the United States’ struggle to right the boat after the economic downfall. Would the United States not stand on firmer ground if all her citizens had equal and complete educations? Would the United States’ foreign policy not be better received if our domestic policies matched our constitutional proclamations? My argument is that if all are allowed to participate in society, without limitations, we all will benefit. Just as students learn from each other in the classroom, so too would citizens learn from each other. In addition, this would bread a far more productive concept of competition. We obsess over the need for a “level playing field” in professional and amateur athletics under the guise that all participants deserve the same chance for success, yet no Congressional hearings are being broadcast (CSPAN doesn’t count, it is mostly unwatchable) about the alarming collection of this country’s wealth in the hands of a few. The point being, if we want parity, and we want the best to win the day, fairness must exist and it is in our collective personal interest for the best to win the day, in both the short and the long term.

Greenwood, Mississippi

          Last Saturday, Ben Guest took the MTC interns and Andre Wang (our fellow intern at the Mississippi Innocence Project) on an Emmett Till inspired tour of the Delta. Our first stop was in Sumner, Mississippi, to see the court house where Roy Bryant and J.W. Milam were acquitted. Sumner was not unlike most failing Delta towns, businesses were boarded up and buildings had been left to crumble. But right in the middle of the town square, buttressed by a Confederate statue, was the infamous court house where one of the twentieth century’s greatest miscarriages of justice took place. However, another important act ought to be remembered: Mose Wright’s improbably courageous decision to publicly accuse a white man of murder in court, something that many say a black man had never done before in Mississippi.

Courthouse in Sumner, MS

            In addition to the courthouse we also traveled to Money, Mississippi, where we saw Bryant’s Grocery and Meat Market, the location of Mose Wright’s home, and the location of his church and graveyard where Emmett was originally to be buried. The store was a mere shell of its former self, yet still haunting. A little over fifty years ago a black boy had wolf whistled at a white woman right where I was standing. His punishment: kidnapping, torture, and murder. Things I never would have had to fear had I done the same exact thing. From there, we drove down Dark Fear Road, passing the former location of the Wrights' home and stopping at the remains of Mose Wright’s Church of God in Christ. It was there that Mose Wright spent the night after testifying against Emmett’s murderers, narrowly missing what might have been his own untimely end. The church was modest, a single room with a small graveyard adjacent. Mose Wright was clearly not a wealthy preacher, but I surmise his unshakeable faith ran deeper than such frivolous determinations of a man’s character.





Mose Wright's Church

Bryant's Grocery and Meat Market

            We also visited the Shurden Plantation, where Emmett was taken by his captors to be tortured and killed. Surprisingly, the barn was still standing and clearly in use not far from the home of the obviously wealthy plantation owners. I guess I had assumed that due to either public pressure or common sense, something of that nature (on private property) might have been torn down to prevent people from doing exactly what we were doing: trespassing and regretting our country’s history of inequality and injustice. Apparently, the owners do not feel the same way. After this, we traveled to the location where Emmett’s body was found in the Tallahatchie River, bound to a cotton gin fan by barbed wire. Again, much like the Bryant’s store, this spot could have passed for any other river bank. But, knowing that Emmett, and surely others, were deposited (that word doesn’t even do justice to what happened) in that river made its current serenely ominous.

Tallahatchie River, location where Till's body was found

            After seeing the famous locations related to the Emmett Till murder, we visited the home of Alzea Brewer. Mrs. Brewer, a Mississippi native, is among the many locals who have spent their entire lives fighting for equality and deserves tremendous credit for their efforts; so too does her husband who fought to register black voters and was among the first to attempt to register to vote since the days of Reconstruction. Speaking with Mrs. Brewer and her eldest daughter Mary, I was reminded of the constant relevance of our past. They candidly spoke about fear, mistrust, and unfinished progress. Yet, their poise and thoughtfulness were indicative of the strength with which they have and continue to carry themselves, refusing to let the indiscretions of others undermine their own integrity.

            After our visit with Mrs. Brewer we made a brief blues excursion to see one of Robert Johnson's gravestones in Greenwood, Mississippi. We then concluded our trip with a stop at the Crystal Grille in Greenwood for some delicious Delta fare before riding back to Oxford. However, I should note, that I have never seen greater wealth disparity within such a small area than in Greenwood. Driving through town, we saw wealthy mansions only to keep driving and see horribly inhospitable homes not even half a mile away. Granted, this is not singular to Greenwood, but the contrast was particularly startling and indicated the willingness of some to look past the misfortune of others.

Barebecue Blues (Oxford)

Do you know what I need?

Heading down South

To Faulkner’s land

I’m marching on South

To the rebel land

Arrive in time to hear the news

Y’all know what I need?

Going down South

Working for the teacher man

Riding on South

Past the Volunteer man

Everybody’s got the barbecue blues

Who knows what I need?

Got an empty feeling

There’s nothing around

Got an empty feeling

Ain’t none to be found

Lord I’ve got the barbecue blues

Y’all know what I need!

A rack of ribs

And some corn bread please

Don’t need no bibs

But extra tea please

I’m saying goodbye to the barbecue blues

Weeks Six and Seven

          It has been two weeks since I did an MTC internship round-up so there is much that I could talk about but there are two meetings especially of note. On June 29 we met with Scott Barretta, a blues expert. With Mr. Barretta, we discussed the legend of Robert Johnson, evolution of blues music, relationship of blues music with the civil rights movement, and revival of blues consumerism. I found Robert Johnson particularly interesting. Dead by the age of 27 under widely disputed circumstances, Robert Johnson was a talented musician who received little fanfare while alive but has since exploded into a blues phenomenon. His legend and musical recognition continues to grow despite (rather probably because of) the fact that only two verified pictures of him exist, his cause of death and gravesite are unknown, and few recordings exist. Most interesting, is the famous “crossroads” myth. Supposedly, his prodigious talent can be attributed to a deal he made with the devil at a crossroads in which he gave up his soul. I had previously thought that the devil had gone down to Georgia, as explained by The Charlie Daniels Band, but apparently he had time to stop in the Delta as well. Meeting with Mr. Barretta was a treat as I have little ability to recognize the finer points of music. Additionally, prior to my time in Mississippi I hardly grasped the true connection between blues music and the black experience in the Delta. Blues music tells the musicians story, but the history of blues music places those stories within a context, fraught with suffering, faith, and talent.  

            This past Wednesday, we met with Tucker Carrington, director of the Mississippi Innocence Project. The Innocence Project fights to obtain justice for wrongfully convicted individuals, exposing blatant negligence within Mississippi’s criminal justice system. In speaking with we focused on two cases. The cases involved Kennedy Brewer and Levon Brooks, both of whom had been wrongfully convicted of kidnapping, rape, and murder within a span of a couple years in the same town. In each case, the guilty party was exonerated and a confession from a third party was elicited, linking the same person to both crimes. Also in each case, an medical examiner and bite-mark specialist had been employed by the district attorney to testify in the prosecutions favor. The medical examiner, as has been widely publicized yet disregarded by Mississippi officials, has and continues to perform well over four times the recommended number of autopsies each year, has been found to produce fraudulent results and has insufficient credentials. The bite-mark specialist, who has even less formal training and appears to simply benefit from his friendship with the medical examiner. Both Brooks and Brewer were convicted, more or less simply because they were in town at the time. The supposed bite-marks were not even bite-marks, refuting any possible matches. With the help of the Innocence Project and newly developed DNA analysis, both were eventually freed, but only after their lives were shattered by false convictions. Worst of all, they are not alone. Irresponsible investigating, lackluster defense litigation, poverty, twisted testimony, and government indifference plague our justice systems. Surely not every verdict is accurate, not every perpetrator can be caught, and not every lawyer is Atticus Finch, but simple laziness and blatant negligence is an attack upon the fundamental right to a just and fair trial.

            On a lighter note, the interns had this past weekend off and I returned home to Bethesda, Maryland. While there I watched the Fourth of July fireworks on the National Mall, spent time with family and friends, and had the pleasure of watching Washington’s 126 million dollar man strike out against the Pirates.

Oxford School Board Meeting

          On June 27, 2011, the MTC interns attended a regular meeting of the Board of Trustees of Oxford School District at Oxford High School. Now, prior to attending this meeting, my experience of school boards and their many procedures was very limited. In fact, that experience was almost entirely derived from scenes in the movies Hoosiers, Field of Dreams and Footloose. As far as I knew a school board meeting consisted of irate parents, powerfully self-invested students, and either Gene Hackman or Kevin Bacon. At the Oxford meeting I did observe unsatisfied parents, but neither basketball nor dancing was discussed, no books were banned, and no one was dubbed a “fascist cow.” But despite this lack of Hollywood fanaticism, the meeting itself was absolutely fascinating and clearly highlighted the structural limitations of school systems and frustrations of those involved.

            To describe the scene, I will say this: there were fewer than forty people in the entire room, board members accompanied by the district superintendent sat in front, a podium for speaking was placed to the side of them, a man was filming an the entire process, and the lecture hall had swivel chairs worthy of a defunct Roy Rogers restaurant. After I got over the travesty that was the swivel chairs, I was given the meeting’s agenda and things got under way.

            Two things caught my attention during the meeting: the rigidity of the procedural process and dysfunctional public participation. Clearly, for the sake of transparency and consistency certain regulations are needed to ensure that meetings are on point and legitimate. But, when time is precious, spending ten minutes determining the date and length of a board retreat (I timed it on my watch) seems wholly avoidable and irresponsible. To be fair, I do not blame this on the board members themselves. Rather, this is a minor grievance against the larger inefficiency of the systematic procedures which must be followed. Why the board cannot have such frivolous discussions behind closed doors baffles me. Which leads me to my next point: more back and forth should be allowed between the board and audience. For, even if they discuss every single detail and have complete transparency what is the purpose if public reaction is stifled, or disallowed? I know this invites meetings to become marathon disagreements but ideally a reasonable middle ground can be found. During the meeting, a disgruntled mother shared a complaint regarding test scores for minorities and disabled students. Her intentions were commendable but her delivery was abrasive and personal in nature so she was quickly silenced. From my perspective, it appeared that the board was simply being self-defensive and refusing to grant her a pulpit out of self-preservation. I say this because they were not allowed, or maybe unwilling, to address her complaints. I would have liked very much to hear their opinions.

            Two days after the meeting the interns met with Marian Barksdale, a member of the school board. We had met with Mrs. Barksdale a month before and knew her to be genuinely concerned and dedicated to improving the education of all students. Speaking with her I grew to understand how frustrating it must be to sit before the public unable to fully educate them concerning the board’s efforts. Clearly, there is much that the board does, and is trying desperately to do, which goes unseen. Being a board member must feel like a full time job and I wonder how far good intentions can go in a system crippled by budgetary limitations, wealth disparity, and self-interest.