I have spent a lot of time considering ‘The Delaware Way’ and how it has shaped the Black community, particularly in Wilmington, the place where it’s been most important to Black folks in check. I’ve been reading and re-reading, ‘Delaware: A Jewel of Inconsistencies’, an essay by Alice Dunbar-Nelson. It was written in 1924 and has swayed me from the thought that being Black in Delaware is a different experience. The racial politics here are intentional and maintained by a social system that needs them.
During the next couple of weeks I will be sharing my thoughts on Dunbar-Nelson’s essay and how its points are still very much alive and exposed in some of the guidelines and aphorisms of Black life in Delaware. It looks like I have about four entries. Don’t expect me to reply to comments. That’s usually not my way. Dunbar-Nelson’s comments will be in italic.
First, a few words about Alice Dunbar-Nelson. She was a suffragist, poet, writer, social thinker, newspaper publisher, Queer woman and widow of the poet Paul Lawrence Dunbar. She published ‘The Wilmington Advocate’ Newspaper from 1920-1922 with her second husband, whose particulars I don’t know. There are no remaining copies of the paper, archived or actual, that I have been able to find.
“In 1820, a Democratic statesman, one Caesar Rodney, not the one of the famous ride, but a younger relative, announced himself in the General Assembly of the state against slavery, and was successful in having resolutions adopted condemning the practice. The reactionary attitude of the country toward black men, caused by Nat Turner’s Insurrection, found expression in Delaware, however, for in 1831, the state passed a law limiting the franchise to white men, forbidding the use of firearms by free Negroes, and forbidding any more to come within the state. …no congregation or meeting of free Negroes or mullatoes of more than twelve persons should be held later than twelve o’clock at night, except under the direction of three respectable white persons, who were to attend the meeting. …no free Negro should attempt to call a meeting for religious worship, to exhort or preach, unless he was authorized to do so by a judge or justice of the peace, upon the recommendation of five respectable and judicious citizens.”
So for Black Delaware there was an illusion of freedom and equality for a brief moment. The effects of their recision live on in the bones of our community. A system was being set in place. Ultimately, a small number of White men would have responsibility for Black civic and religious expression. Those men could delegate those responsibilities to people who recognized their authority and made the appropriate reports. It is not uncommon in Black Wilmington to be pulled aside and lectured about the need to not draw the ire of White people. It is White assent that ultimately controls our destiny.
These practices are reflected in the political dialogue of the Black community in Wilmington:
“You got to go along to get along.”
“White folks are only gonna give you so much.”
“The problem is, we don’t know who controls you.”
The most glaring expression of these sentiments came when I was working with communities fighting the construction of a prison in the historic Southbridge section of Wilmington. The Castle administration had decided that the new prison expansion would happen on the border of the projects in the community. It was proposed with the assent of the community’s elected officials. One of those officials called me and said, “Son, you are doing good work in the community but these White folks are going to get what they want. My advice to you is to get what you can get out of this and go along.” That didn’t make sense to me and, while I am sure I was not the only person who was approached in this manner, the community did not listen and created a winning coalition. There is no prison in Southbridge. Instead, the community is slated to be overtaken by ‘development’. The powers that be have decided that the land there has better value.
