Social Stratification in the Deep South

Even after having a couple weeks after the trip to process all that we saw, I still find it difficult to put into words everything I have taken from this experience.  I still remember what Cameron Cole told us on our second day in Birmingham. He explained that there were two misconceptions we might have once we return to North Carolina. First, it is important that we remember that the problems in the South are not exclusive to the area, but found everywhere. Second, the prejudice so apparent in the South cannot be separated from ourselves. Everyone is prejudice in their own way, and until we realize that there will be no change. On the day that Cameron gave us this advice, I found it interesting to ponder, but beyond that it meant little to nothing. Now that we have finished our journey, however, I think his advice is golden. Perhaps the most vaulable piece of information I learned on this trip is that the problems in the South do not only concern Southerners, and those at fault are not limited to bigots. We have a problem in this country that needs to be addressed, by everyone and for everyone. As we toured the South I realized that, like Marcus said, we are only one race, the human race. All the problems that African-Americans must confront are not only a “black problem” but a universal issue that must be addressed and which concerns everyone. And when we refuse to accept any group of people, we are contributing to this problem. We are not separated by the races but by the divisions that we create as a society. As I reflect on this trip I want to remember that I have been given a certain amount of privilege at birth, but that doesn’t mean that I am more or less important, or that I am not affected by others’ amount of privilege.

As I leave this blog and our trip behind, I want to remember that while Africa is experiencing genocide and while the Middle East has bombings each day, there are also  serious issues in the United States that must not be ignored.  There is a population of “invisible voices” in this country that need someone to speak up for them, and if nobody does, it will hurt us all. I have learned that it is the duty of those with privilege to help these invisible voices. I hope to give voice to the population of the US that is unknown to most of our society… this trip made me realize how crucial that is.

Today was really relaxing and we didn’t do too much, but during reflection time we talked about what aspect of the trip was most difficult to confront, and what it means now. I think the hardest part for me was going to Baptist Town and the heading across the street to the rest of Greenwood which hides the reality of the poverty in the area. Four tourists who drive through Greenwood, they will never see the poverty across the train tracks and the poor living conditions many of the people in the community live under. I don’t really know what the mean now, but I guess I have realized that where you come from ultimately shapes where you go in life for the majority of people. I also realized that the poverty we hear about in third world countries also exists in this country. We need to realize that there are issues that need to be addressed in our own country before we begin to help those in other countries.

Later that day we stayed at the Shack Up Inn, a hotel located in small shacks where the sharecroppers used to live. The Inn is located on an old plantation so it felt like we really lived as sharecroppers. The area was awesome, minus the millions of bugs and chiggers surrounding us.

We visited Parchman Penitentiary today and it was incredibly intense. First we heard an inmate talk about his life and how he got to jail. He had been a crack-cocaine dealer in California and he was driving out east to sell more drugs when he was caught in Mississippi. This man has a few daughters and a wife, and the most devastating part about being in prison for 15 years was missing out on watching his daughters grow up. One of his daughters moved into the USC dorms this past year and he was terribly sad that he could not participate in this experience. This man played basketball in college and he had a good job; I was surprised to see someone so normal convicted of a felony that resulted in 15 years of prison. The next man we talked to sold marijuana among other drugs. He was from Michigan and this was his second time being sent to prison. He told us that in Michigan, he was released on bail for the possession of marijuana, but in Mississippi he was sentenced to 15 years in prison. I couldn’t believe how different the two states were in punishment! I was also shocked to hear him talk about how tough life is in prison. I already knew about the gang rapes that often occurred in the bathroom, but he said that you always have to be aware of your surroundings because it is so violent in prison. He said that your most powerful weapon in prison (and the real world) is your mind. We learned about the food and how it is so disgusting that even the cats won’t eat it. A security guard confirmed this statement, as she said that sometimes she has to smell the food and that alone is repulsive. They eat their own vegetables from the fields, and you will often find cut up snakes and insects, because nobody cleans the vegetables.

The last man that talked to us had been charged for murder. He claims that he killed in self defense, but in the state of Mississippi that doesn’t matter. I looked at him and could not see a murderer: instead I saw an older man as normal as anyone else is. He said that in prison, it is the general understanding that murderers are better than pedophiles Murderers usually kill in the heat of the moment, where pedophiles must research and plan their attack. This group is most often the type that is killed by other inmates. Anyways, this man was very interesting to listen to and both he and the man from Michigan will be released in a few months.

While we heard the last two men talk, it was incredibly hot. The inmates do not get any air conditioning or heat. They also only receive three different outfits for each year. The second man said that there was a fight a few weeks ago and the inmates didn’t want to security guards to hear about it, so he had to wipe up all the blood with one of his three shirts. This must mean that the inmates are very careful about what they tell the guards. We also got to see footage from a few assaults in the past. We watched an inmate beat up a guard and leave him passed out on the ground. I can’t help but wonder where this rage comes from. It seems like some of the anger comes from the living conditions. For the very worst crimes, the inmates are locked in their cell for 23 hours out of the day. For the 24^th hour, they are given some time outside. But they are confined to what looks like a dog kennel! It is ridiculously small and it must be scorching hot in them. For those guys, the one with a life sentence or on death row, they will live like that forever. But for most crimes, you can move up in your ranking in prison and increasingly develop more freedom. With time you can work in the fields all day and you do not have to be locked up in a cellar all day.

I can’t help but feel sad for these men. I realized that I could never work in a prison because I couldn’t find anything wrong with the men we saw. We stood at an observation point later in the day where we could watch dozens of men hanging around, and as I looked around I only saw people just like me. There were so many people that looked my age, a disturbing thought. Why are so many people in this jail?

There are around 5,000 inmates at Parchman, 85% due to drug-related crimes, and 80-85% are black. Those inmates on death row are closer to 50/50 white/black but for the rest of the population it is mostly black. The penitentiary resembles a plantation more than a jail and it is in the heart of the Delta. It is mostly the poor who come to prison because those who can afford good lawyers get out of their punishment. Mississippi’s laws are much harsher than most all states in the US. All these facts lead to the bothersome possibility that the prison system, particularly in this state, is made for certain people. Once people get there, it is also hard to get out. The programs that this prison offers to get inmates involve creating resumes and learning how to write checks. Classes like that will barely help anyone live a meaningful life after prison. Furthermore, if you have no money and no family members once you are let go, you are not legally allowed to leave. There is one man at the prison whose sister lives near a school. She is his only family member, but since he was a sex offender and cannot live near schools, he has to stay at Parchman. It was has been over 10 years since he was “released.” Stories like this were painful to hear about and made me realize that the fallacies in prison are too big to ignore. Today was definitely one of the most startling days of this trip.

Another interesting aspect of Parchman is that young women are increasingly becoming security guards. I wasn’t that surprised about this because lately they have had trouble finding employment, and I learned in my gender class that when men leave a particular job, women tend to fill in for them. This fact is nevertheless disturbing because I do not see how young women would be able to protect themselves against powerful ex-convicts.

Parchman was the perfect example of a total institution for many reasons. Multiple people said that you can never be the same once you are enrolled at Parchman, and after visiting I believe that once you enter the grounds for a long time you are forever changed. The place was very somber and depressing; I can’t imagine even working there.

Now we are in the Delta, the part of Mississippi where everything seems backwards. We got a tour of the area that included many towns from Merigold to Money, but each town seemed to confront the same problem: poverty. If you drive around this area as we did, you will see fields and fields of cotton, soybeans, corn, etc. It is a beautiful area, flat and green, with side roads taking you to small towns. But in these towns you realize that nothing seems to have changed for the past 50 years. We started the day by going to see a cotton ginnery, then we toured around small towns that reminded me of those on the Native American Reservations in Arizona. The one that stands out the most in my mind was Greenwood and the area called Baptist Town. When we entered this area, all we saw was small, run down houses and old, worn down cars. We ate at a small cafe/grocery store in the neighborhood and the people were extremely welcoming. (We tried kool-aid pickles, they were interesting). Anyways, the first thing I noticed was how cheap the food is. It was also homemade and I could tell that this was the main source (if not the only) of revenue coming into this community. I immediately thought of the Native American towns because they are very similar to this one. We learned that many people do not have running water or electricity in the Delta, and this is also true on the reservation. While the houses are older in this neighborhood, most Natives live in trailers, so I felt like these two accommodations evened each other out.

Dr. Hattery talked to us about rural vs. urban poverty and how different they are because in rural poverty there is a lack of resources. I thought about Baptist Town and how it feels like rural poverty. In some ways it is rural, but it is also next door to the entire Greenwood community, which is more economically developed. On the reservation, there is not even a neighboring community with resources because nobody has those resources on this land which spans over a hundred mile radius. Both African-Americans and Native Americans are being exploited and there are many similarities and differences between the two groups. We learned today that education in these areas is very poor and that many of the schools have been on probation because of low test scores. This is also a problem on the reservation. My mom used to work at Tiis Nas Pas, a few miles from Four Corners, at an elementary school. This school had very poor test scores and the government had threatened to shut it down. This exact same thing happened at the school that LaLee’s grandchildren went to in the movie we watched. Obviously the last thing a poor area needs is a shut down school; both areas desperately need much more funding for their school system.

Another similarity between both subgroups is the tendency to eat bad food. Native Americans actually used to eat very healthy, but when they were colonized they learned to make fried foods such as fry bread and Navajo tacos. The South also has unhealthy, bad food although I am not sure about the historical context for that.

There also seems to be a loss of culture in both communities. We learned that the younger generations in the South do not know of or understand the historical importance behind the Blues music. It is only up to the elders to understand that Blues music comes from a long history of suffering. Similarly, Native Americans have lost their culture because of the colonizers, and today the younger generations do not even know their native language.

Since we have been in the Delta I have wondered how exactly these two oppressed groups come together and how they are also separate. In some ways the Native Americans have a slight advantage over the African-Americans because they have a government organization (the BIA) to help them out. On the other hand, these communities are so set apart from the rest of American civilization that they cannot even benefit from a close by community of the middle and upper classes. Because the disparities between African-Americans and whites are very obvious because they are close in proximity to each other, Native Americans’ issues are less apparent because those communities are isolated. Yet I also feel like Americans have a general awareness about the poverty on reservations, where most have no idea how impoverished the South still is.

Later in the night we went to Po’ Monkeys to listen to Blues music and dance. Every Monday night the strippers from Memphis make an appearance, so you could say that there was a diverse crowd there. There were other tourists, some locals, our entire class, and the strippers. The tourist industry surrounding the Blues music is obviously bringing in a lot of money and people to the Delta.

Yesterday we got into New Orleans and this morning we went to talk with a woman who works for ACORN, a non-profit organization that has recently done a lot of work for the New Orleans community. She told us about the changes and problems involving Hurricane Katrina; she believes that ever since the disaster, the social elite in the area have been trying to restore the city and make it was it used to be. In other words, a select number of people are blatantly refusing to help minorities and low-income individuals. There are many ways that this is occurring. First, the police force is very rough around here and apparently the New Mexico state police refused to work with them. It sounds like they are enforcing the law in an inappropriate manner and possibly with a biased mindset. Third, select neighborhoods are completely banned and the residents cannot return to their homes, yet they are still paying a mortgage on the residence. Supposedly these neighborhoods are dangerous but there are even more hazardous areas that are not being banned. The only consistency in this phenomenon is that the banned neighborhoods house mostly African-Americans. As a result, over 100,000 people cannot return to New Orleans, and ACORN is trying to help these people return to their home. Voting rights are also being revoked, and the organization is trying to help individuals get this right back. We were also informed of why this city turned into a disaster area. The hurricane was only level 3 when it hit New Orleans, but the storm made all the water move into the ocean, and then a huge surge of water returned towards the land. When so much water returned, the levies in the city broke and the city flooded. We were told to imagine watching your house fill with water, and what we would do if we knew the water level would rise to 6 feet within 15 minutes. This comment was startling to ponder. I was also shocked to hear about the problems with the low-income areas.

Afterwards, we drove around the 9th Ward, one of the poorest neighborhoods in New Orelans. The difference between this neighborhood and those in Bay St. Louis was unbelievable. First, most houses were still standing. Each had a large X with information on all sides, including the organization that searched the home and the number of humans and dogs found deceased in the residence. Actually looking at these numbers and the spray paint on the facades made the reality of the hurricane so real. I can’t believe that these houses are still standing, still dangerous to enter, two years after the hurricane. Paradoxically, the neighborhoods in Bay St. Louis were already gutted and destroyed. Clearly Louisiana’s response to the hurricane was very different than Mississippi’s. This might have had to do with the specific neighborhoods that were compared, however, as those in Bay St. Louis were upscale and the New Orleans neighborhood was very poor. The entire situation in New Orleans points to race and class differences that have escalated since the disaster. According to the woman we talked to, there have always been problems with inequality in LA, but comparing before the hurricane to after, before was much, much better. I had never been to the city before this trip, but I can tell that there are huge class differences from just walking around.

Yesterday, when we heard about the storm from the librarians, I had a difficult time conceptualizing the situation for all of Bay St. Louis. We heard very valuable stories from these kind people, but when we drove around to tour the city, the properties were huge and right on the coast; I figured that either the town is predominantly wealthy or we had not seen the whole picture. I became slightly concerned for those “invicible voices,” whose stories I could not hear, and I wondered what was going on beyond the library and beach front properties. Luckily, today, the entire class was able to better understand Bay St. Louis and the larger community.

It all started with my first interviewee, who at the end of his interview began to talk about the town. His story and his feelings regarding this town made me realize that there were many layers to the area that had been missed the day before. I began to see that this library represents the entire Bay St. Louis community, and that although not all its members were able to stay in the area, those still around need a form of reliability in their lives. The second person who I interviewed added to this experience, as she talked about living as a middle class citizen her entire life and repeatedly remarked about how thankful she is that her family survived the storm. For her, as for most survivors, the destruction of her home was nothing compared to her gratitude for the health of her family. I heard many people today say that their pictures were the hardest material possession to let go of, losing catalysts for memories into the past. I also learned that many of those in low-income housing have not been able to return to the area because many housing projects will not be rebuilt. I heard many people say that Hurricane Katrina was an equalizer: the storm left everyone in the same situation with the same problems to confront. This was an interesting comment to hear from so many different people, and I agree that it was initially an equalizer, but it seems that that moment has changed and now the towns devastated by the hurricane are more heavily populated by those with more money. This can also be confirmed with the situation in New Orleans, a subject I will address later.

On the bus we talked about priviledge and how there are many aspects of one’s life that contribute or detract from priviledge. Among those are race, class, sexual orientation, religion, sex/gender, etc. We talked about how sometimes those with high priviledge feel guilty when so many people do not have priviledge, but that it is important for those who are able to speak up for others who can’t. After spending so much time at the library in Bay St. Louis, I feel like it has done just that. As Dr. Hattery said, those with priviledge can’t give it to others, they can only help others out; the Bay St. Louis library served and continues to serve it’s community in more ways than books. We went to a film festival tonight and many people showed up; clearly, the community supports the library and depends on it too.

Bay St. Louis is a fascinating town with a rich history, and I am sad to hear that a selective group of people can no longer enjoy what it has to offer. If the projects are not going to be rebuilt, then I do not believe these people will be able to move back. It is interesting how certain events, such as natural disasters, reveal the stratification in society. I am glad to hear that many members of Hancock County with priviledge are doing what they can to help others.

Today we spent all afternoon hearing about the small town of Bay St. Louis and the changes in the town since Hurricane Katrina. Change
is not a strong enough word to describe the devastation that the surrounding community has experienced in the last two years, as this town barely exists anymore. We got a tour of many neighborhoods in Hancock County and most houses had been completely demolished by the storm. We drove around and basically only saw the foundations of the homes… at one point we saw a couple steps that led to the previously existing house and an oven that the hurricane had left behind. We drove around the small town for over an hour but I feel like we saw nothing; probably because there was nothing to see. It looked like there never was civilization in some areas, I could barely believe a natural disaster could be so destructive. Having no control over such a major change in one’s life must be incredibly discomforting and traumatizing. Tomorrow we are going to record the oral histories of several members of this community, so hopefully all of this will feel more real after that.

This morning we went to the Civil Rights Memorial which is attached to the Southern Poverty Law Center in Montgomery. We watched a movie on the purpose of the SPLC and walked around the museum. This is the only museum/memorial honoring the Civil Rights Movement in the entire country! I read over several stories about people who had been killed for deeds such as encouraging blacks to register to vote, but what stunned me was when I read about 5 individuals who have been killed in the last 10 years due to hate crimes. One man was killed after the September 11 attacks because he was wearing a turbin and “looked” like a terrorist. Another man was shot because of his sexual orientation. One young girl was killed because of her skin color and since she was MMR, she was an “easy target.” The SPLC addresses all of these issues and more; I had no idea how powerful it is. For example, the organization sued the United Klansmen of America a few years back and as a result, they had to give up their organization to the mother of a young African-American who was murdered. I would love to work for an organization so committed to social equity and the erasure of discrimination.

Afterwards, we drove an hour to Selma to see the bridge and the church where the famous walk began. The walk from Selma to Montgomery began at a church that MLK preached at, right beside the Carter Housing Projects. The area was obviously very poor and it was difficult for me to imagine living in that town today. Just at a glance, the town appeared to be exactly the same as it had been fifty years ago! We heard some stats on the bus, and proportionately this town has more crime and unemployment than even Montgomery and Birmingham, which are already way above the national average. This would make sense because crime seems to rise with poverty, and the town’s economy does not seem to be booming. The man at the SPLC said that these towns could make a lot of money in tourism if they made more memorials. I wonder if they are resisting that because of continuing racism or denial?

On Sunday we went to 16^th Street Baptist Church in Birmingham for the 11am service. As we are a large group, it was difficult to blend in with the crowd; but there were other outsiders at the service, including an ambassador from Hungary and some Germans making a film. The service was exactly as I had expected it to be; full of energy and enthusiasm, filled with vibrant music, and very long. The two-hour service began with three women who led the song “Our God is an Awesome God,” followed by other songs and a sermon led by the most enthusiastic minister I have ever seen. He was yelling at the top of his lungs at some points, and I found myself a bit startled and overwhelmed by such a different service compared to what I am used to. I am thankful we were able to experience the typical Sunday worhship service for so many Christians in the South, although I am not sure if I felt so moved to become part of the church.
After the service we went to Montgomery, Alabama and I was shocked at how southern this place feels. It is much smaller and more abandoned than Birmingham, and the downtown area has some noteworthy characteristics. There are murals on some of the buildings that depict Christians who are fighting and presenting the holy cross; one wall also displays several bible verses. I was surprised to find this imagery in the middle of the city, let alone the capital of the state. There is also a monument in memory of the Confederate Army that stands directly to the side of the State Capital building. I could barely comprehend its geography and I wonder if its erection sparked controversy.

This morning we took a drive to the former location of “Tent City.” In the early 1960s, barely any blacks were registered to vote, and to gain access to such an important aspect of American citizenry thousands of people marched from Selma, 50 miles to Montgomery. While this movement worked on the third attempt (the first led to Bloody Sunday),  once these citizens were granted the right to vote, many were kicked off their land and left homeless. This is how Tent City was formed; all those homeless from the whites’ reaction to the new voting rights stayed in this area for two and a half years! This area was incredibly powerful; it was difficult to imagine walking for fifty miles, having no idea whether this move would spark any change, and then once gaining this simple privilege, being kicked out of your home. This area is still known as the “Black Belt,” whose 30% of the population is below the poverty line. The surrounding counties are among the very poorest in Alabama. Driving around this area made me feel very sad because I feel that change still needs to continue. Yes, certain rights that were not previously available have been granted, but when almost one-third of a population does not even hit the poverty line, there are still many issues to be addressed. I wonder what would be most helpful in an area like that, in order to give everyone opportunities equal to more fortunate American citizens for their future. I also wonder if people who grew up in this area ever move away.

Today we toured downtown Birmingham, from the 16th Street Baptist Church to Dynamite Hill down the road. We began by walking around the church (it was closed for Memorial Day weekend), and then strolling Kelly Ingram Park. At this park is where the Children’s March took place, a time when local children marched for freedom instead of adults, in hopes that they would not get arrested and the adults would not lose their jobs. Unfortunately, the children were severely hurt. The statues throughout the park depicted the violence that occured that day, and they were very powerful. One statue in particular, one where violent dogs are being held back police officers, stands out in my mind. I can’t imagine how scary that day must have been. This park was the divide in the city between the blacks and the whites, which is why the commotion took place there; after people saw the brutality of it all- even to the children- they realized that change needed to happen. But despite this violence on behalf of the police officers, the African-Americans were committed to remaining non-violent. I couldn’t believe how scary that must have been, yet remaining peaceful amidst this chaos deserves the most honorable respect I could ever imagine.

After Kelly Ingram Park we explored the Civil Rights Institute across the street. We saw old signs that divided the whites from the “colored” for everything from drinking fountains to buses. The pictures were shocking, but what really surprised me was the statistics about the differences in education among whites and blacks. Whites had incredibly more funding and the classes were the traditional sort; for African-Americans, however, the classes were agrarian or vocational. I couldn’t believe that the state would allow such discrepancies, and it made me realize that you can’t always trust the government to be fair.

For lunch we went to “Mrs. B’s on Fourth,” another typical Southern dining restaurant. I thought everyone was nice and friendly but later that night, DJ mentioned that the employees didn’t like serving the white girls in our group. I was really surprised that I had not even realized the “tension” in the room, but I guess it makes sense. I guess since I am not in a minority group, being an “outsider” does not usually cross my mind. It must be hard to be aware of these observations all the time; I can’t even imagine what the would be like. At first when I heard that I was a little bothered; I felt like I wanted to tell them that I wasn’t any different than their other customers. Perhaps this preconceived notion of who individuals are is at the heart of the problem.

Later in the day, we heard Mrs. Heidi and the Shores sisters talked about growing up in Birmingham during the Civil Rights Movement. Mrs. Heidi lived down the street from the Shores sisters, whose father was Arthur Shores (famous attorney). These women barely interacted throught childhood because Mrs. Heidi is white and the sisters are African-American; paradoxical to the time, the Shores family was much wealthier than the Heidi family. This was surprising to hear, and points to the importance of intersectionality when observing people and situations. These women told fascinating stories about life in Birmingham during the Civil Rights Movement. They both lived on “Dynamite Hill,” notoriously named due to the neighborhood’s tendency to get bombed. Ms. Helen Shores talked about how she was not able to go to Kiddieland, an amusement park, when she was young; this was dissapointing to her, clearly. Her family particularly lived in fear because her father’s prominence in the political sphere made them an easy target. I wasn’t shocked by the Shores’ stories, but hearing about these problems firsthand made me ponder how devastating it would be to live in a place where you aren’t accepted because of physical appearance. The ways in which these sisters were discriminated against also exceeded my previous understandings. At the end of the talk, Mrs. Heidi said something that made me look at the 1950-60s in a completely different way. She said that this time was difficult for everyone because everyone lived in fear each day. Once I thought about it, the more I felt that this movement was needed for the entire community, and that when one group is oppressed, it is detrimental for everyone. Mrs. Heidi’s comment make me feel attached and connected to the problems that everyone faced fourty years ago.

After we talked for a while, Mrs. Heidi took us to see the first elementary school that desegregated in Bermingham. The house she grew up in was right near the school, and she often saw a burning cross left from the KKK in the mornings. I can’t imagine waking up to find a burning cross in the back of a school!