The Legacy of Our Past

During the Civil War, a popular poem ran in various black newspapers to illustrate how the anguish of white Americans finally had reached parity with the suffering of slaves.

In the poem, titled "The Two Southern Mothers," a white woman greeted with "frantic sorrow" the body of her only son, a Confederate officer who had died in battle.

Her "aged slave," though, did not console her. The white woman had sold all 10 of the black woman's children. Both women were childless.

"Missus," the slave said, "we is even now."

Ten children versus one — hardly an equitable exchange. But the poem portrayed a greater truth for black people in the 1860s. They wanted to believe that the high toll of Confederate deaths was the South's atonement for slavery.

I had never heard of this poem until I read Drew Gilpin Faust's new book, "This Republic of Suffering: Death and the American Civil War." In fact, there was a lot I didn't know about the role of blacks in the Civil War until I read this book — a lot that resonates today.

I knew about the horrors of slavery, of course, but I didn't know much about black soldiers' many acts of courage on the battlefield, where they served in segregated units for the North and were led by white men. If captured, they were seldom prisoners of war. Sometimes they were sent into slavery; usually they were murdered — even if they surrendered.

After the Battle of the Crater in 1864, one Confederate private described how injured black soldiers begging for water were silenced "by a bayonet thrust." Soon all of them were killed, only a few hundred yards away from Gen. Robert E. Lee, who did nothing.

One Southern newspaper wrote: "We cannot treat negroes … as prisoners of war without a destruction of the social system for which we contend. … We must claim the full control of all negroes who may fall into our hands, to punish with death, or any other penalty."

Black civilians risked their lives to bury Yankees on Southern soil and watch over their graves.

The African Colored Church near Bowling Green, Ky., for example, sheltered 1,134 "well-tended graves" for black and white Union soldiers. After the war, mostly African-American troops took on the gruesome task of reburying tens of thousands of Northerners' bodies.

My own experience teaches me to expect shock from some white readers and criticism from others for dredging up these ugly reminders of racism from our past. Last September, I wrote about the significance of the noose after dozens of stories about the Jena Six failed to mention why that circle of rope matters.

Many white readers left emotional messages about how they never knew that the lynching of roughly 3,400 black men often involved castration and burning before they were hanged. They didn't know that souvenir photos of the hangings were traded like baseball cards. This was shocking news for many white Americans. Some protested that I was just stirring up trouble, but most said they understood a little better why many African-Americans were outraged by the nooses in Louisiana.

Black readers who weighed in, though, weren't surprised by the details, even if they hadn't heard them before. I suspect that also will be true of black readers when it comes to reading about the atrocities of the Civil War.

Keith Woods is the dean of faculty at The Poynter Institute for journalism and writes frequently about issues of race. He said that our level of shock at these stories is directly related to our expectations of what is and isn't possible in America.

"If your understanding of our country is that everybody gets treated fairly and everything does turn out OK, then you're stunned by these stories," he said. If your understanding is otherwise, "then you are not going to be surprised by the horrors of history."

In this current climate of racial tensions, Faust's book is a timely reminder that there are many reasons for our country's continued struggle.

"Ancient history," some angrily declare.

But if the wounds of slavery were merely the sins of yesterday, how is it that a black man running for president is making history only today?

Connie Schultz is a Pulitzer Prize-winning columnist for The Plain Dealer in Cleveland and the author of two books from Random House: "Life Happens" and "… and His Lovely Wife." To find out more about Connie Schultz (cschultz@plaind.com) and read her past columns, please visit the Creators Syndicate Web page at www.creators.com.

COPYRIGHT 2008 CREATORS SYNDICATE INC.