#slavery — Public Fediverse posts
Live and recent posts from across the Fediverse tagged #slavery, aggregated by home.social.
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Zapata has diabetes, hyperlipidemia & hypothyroidism, according to her lawyer, Lauren O’Neal. Because of those conditions, the Congolese Interior Ministry told #ICE in a letter that it could not accept her because it could not provide adequate medical care….
“The government sent her to the #DRC, anyway,” the judge, Richard J. Leon, wrote, adding, “Sending plaintiff to the DRC, therefore, was likely illegal.”
#immigration #law #judiciary #rendition #slavery #TheCrueltyIsThePoint #AbuseOfPower
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Zapata has diabetes, hyperlipidemia & hypothyroidism, according to her lawyer, Lauren O’Neal. Because of those conditions, the Congolese Interior Ministry told #ICE in a letter that it could not accept her because it could not provide adequate medical care….
“The government sent her to the #DRC, anyway,” the judge, Richard J. Leon, wrote, adding, “Sending plaintiff to the DRC, therefore, was likely illegal.”
#immigration #law #judiciary #rendition #slavery #TheCrueltyIsThePoint #AbuseOfPower
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Zapata has diabetes, hyperlipidemia & hypothyroidism, according to her lawyer, Lauren O’Neal. Because of those conditions, the Congolese Interior Ministry told #ICE in a letter that it could not accept her because it could not provide adequate medical care….
“The government sent her to the #DRC, anyway,” the judge, Richard J. Leon, wrote, adding, “Sending plaintiff to the DRC, therefore, was likely illegal.”
#immigration #law #judiciary #rendition #slavery #TheCrueltyIsThePoint #AbuseOfPower
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Zapata has diabetes, hyperlipidemia & hypothyroidism, according to her lawyer, Lauren O’Neal. Because of those conditions, the Congolese Interior Ministry told #ICE in a letter that it could not accept her because it could not provide adequate medical care….
“The government sent her to the #DRC, anyway,” the judge, Richard J. Leon, wrote, adding, “Sending plaintiff to the DRC, therefore, was likely illegal.”
#immigration #law #judiciary #rendition #slavery #TheCrueltyIsThePoint #AbuseOfPower
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Zapata has diabetes, hyperlipidemia & hypothyroidism, according to her lawyer, Lauren O’Neal. Because of those conditions, the Congolese Interior Ministry told #ICE in a letter that it could not accept her because it could not provide adequate medical care….
“The government sent her to the #DRC, anyway,” the judge, Richard J. Leon, wrote, adding, “Sending plaintiff to the DRC, therefore, was likely illegal.”
#immigration #law #judiciary #rendition #slavery #TheCrueltyIsThePoint #AbuseOfPower
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@adammockler shared the video below.
On the upside this racist will be dead soon.
#karen #slavery #whitehistory #misinformation #blackmastodon
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He said he wanted to pay for more.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J-zFLnnB1zE
#slavery #footfetish #cuckold #bodyodor -
He said he wanted to pay for more.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J-zFLnnB1zE
#slavery #footfetish #cuckold #bodyodor -
Underground Railroad stop threatened by real-estate development https://www.theartnewspaper.com/2026/05/12/underground-railroad-stop-threatened-by-real-estate-development?utm_source=dlvr.it&utm_medium=mastodon #FriezeNewYork2026 #Slavery
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Context, Thought, and Learning: ShiraDest publications Offers Project Do Better @[email protected] ·Passing To Freedom, Chapter 36: Returns and Departures
Chapter 36
I nearly leapt out of my chair.
Anna!
How had Brutus gotten such an idea? Had he spoken with her, himself? And why mark the phrase Particular Friend, which was quite normal for a close friendship, but not normal, at all, on his lips.
It was Anna’s lips that I was thinking of, now. I put away the thought, and hoped I was not blushing. Both adults were watching me closely. My little Tilly seemed to have let the cat out of the bag with her impish grin. I tried to regain my composure:
“So, she does, does she?” I stuttered, finally choking out the question, “does she remember what happened at the tavern,” and then I understood.
“Wait, how did you-”
“She’s here.”
I blinked. Here? Had I had heard correctly? I sat forward on my chair, my arms out, elbows bent, as if holding a tray of biscuits, and dropping it. That couldn’t be right.
“She-”
I didn’t have time to get my question out before I heard:
“She’s here.”
This time Brutus had spoken. They both looked up at the stairs, and then back at me. Then, they both smiled.
While I was rising from my seat, little Tilly had already sprung out of her chair, raced up the stairs, and was presently stomping down a hallway. How did she know where to go? When could Anna have gotten here, and how had I not seen her?
“Just how long has she been here, and-”
“We do have more than one set of stairs, you know.”
Brutus was grinning like a man who’d escaped from the lunatic asylum. My questions were all swept aside by the voice of young Tilly reverberating off the walls:
“Annaaaaa!!”
Both parents and all of the children burst in to gales of laughter. Two of the children fell out of their chairs and rolled along the floor in gales of merriment as if they’d seen Saint Nick.
I looked up toward the source of that delighted cry, and heard two sets of footsteps above us. At last, I saw her.
“Anna.”
I ran up the stairs, just as little Tilly had done, no longer caring about the eyes that might be upon us. I flew into a waiting pair of arms.
Anna was back!
I could hardly believe my eyes. I sat her next to me, young Tilly sitting on her other side, both of us hugging her. Brutus cleared his throat, and his wife offered a hot plate of food for Anna. Neither Tilly nor I wanted to let her go, but we relented. We finished eating in the silence of angels. With her company, manna from heaven could not have tasted better.
Later, she told us of her travels from our tiny bush arbor, her contact with the Porter in a town which she would not name, but that seemed to be a bit north of this one, and of how she had heard of Smith’s setting the fire. That was how she had known to come here.
She had lain low, not daring to approach any of the people of this town until after Smith and his men had left. She agreed that his scouts, and other hired men, too, would be about, as spies. She had also heard news about that woman from the tavern.
“She does not own that tavern any more, if ever she did.”
Brutus had gotten word about the tavern, too.
“Oh?” Anna had raised an eyebrow at him, waiting to hear more.
“Seems she got bought out, lock, stock and barrel, by one of the Virginia senators, and that mangy cur Smith has been installed there, close by.”
While he sounded angry, somehow, Brutus did not sound very worried. I know I am. We did not have the luxury of resting very long. Anna seemed to be of the same mind, for she abruptly stood up:
“We must go, soon.”
“How soon,” I asked, fearing the worst.
“Tomorrow,” she said, “maybe even tonight, which would be better, in fact.”
I sighed. She must be right. Thinking over what provisions I had already managed to pack, I thought we could make do. I nodded. Tilly and I were both well fed, healthy, and prepared for the journey, even if we had not expected to leave quite so soon. I had hoped we could stay in this house this night. A bath before leaving would be welcome. I wondered how long it would be before any of us could next have a bath. Take care in making wishes, for they often come true.
We triple checked our saddlebags. Brutus lent young Tilly the smallest horse the family had, a small gelding that was good with the children. It was their favorite. When I tried to object to taking their favorite horse, Brutus reassured me that:
“We will look to get him back as a carriage horse, don’t you worry about it. The Porters along the way will return him after they introduce you to your next Conductor.”
Our journey was to be a simple one, with a porter in a town off the main road which Anna knew well, who would lead us to one of the Conductors in that town. It seemed that Brutus had anticipated this Departure, and sent word ahead. We would fall back upon our old ruse if need be, expecting it more likely to work this time, in no small part due to the number of well-wishers and even of white citizens who simply detested being manipulated by Southern slave holding interests. They would look the other way even if they did not really believe our ruse.
Buoyed by all of the support, planning, and good food we had shared, the three of us left the house after the children had scouted the area for about five miles around. They reported all quiet, then went to bed. Anna also made her own search of part of the route ahead.
We left, escorted by Brutus, who had also sent two porters to check road and paths, while he scouted through the woods as Anna was doing her search, and Tilly and I rechecked our saddlebags and our story. During those early morning hours as I looked back at the house for the last time, I prayed that these children might finish growing up in a world where the risks that their parents took was no longer necessary.
Anna had only told us that we were to cut across country so as to be as sure as we could to avoid the roads, and thus not making it easy for Smith to find us. If he obeyed, for a while at least, the Pennsylvania court’s order to remove his dogs, then it would be at least a week, she had estimated, in agreement with other estimates, including that of Brutus, before Smith could return to Shrewsbury to continue his search for us.
The most reliable information that we had put eyewitnesses watching the man and his cronies loading their dogs into wagons and following the road back down south, having been confirmed at several places in Maryland by the lookouts, who wired telegrams to one another for the express purpose of keeping as many eyes as possible on such a threat to the entire network in this part of the eastern seaboard. And to think that only a few short months ago, I had had no idea what the eastern seaboard might be. Now, I was traversing half of it, with two other intrepid souls who had become very dear to me.
“We are about half way there.” Anna allowed a short rest, but no fire. She had a short look around, and came back to tell us that all seemed well. I began to hope, when I was reminded, again, never count chickens before they are hatched. What had reminded me was the sound of a gunshot.
I saw, dimly as through a broken mirror, young Tilly’s gelding bolt. Anna ran to catch the reins as they passed her. Tilly was riding between us, with Anna in the lead, Old Mary and I bringing up the rear.
As Anna grabbed the bridle of young Tilly’s gelding, Old Mary stumbled, falling to the ground in a tangle of legs and saddlebags.
Old Mary had been shot.
***
(New working title is Passing to Freedom: Willow and Weems …
a historical novel by D. Antonia Jones, aka Nia or Ni…)
#AnnAnna #BlackHistory #historicalFiction #slavery #writing -
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@oswaldosrm
It is ironic to use the hashtag #freedom in this context.During the years that Simón Bolívar was alive on Earth, millions of human beings were slaves in America.
Bolivar himself owned slaves in Venezuela. His family was made rich from slave labor on their plantations.
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“This Tea Is Too Cheap!” #2 🫖 (Boston Tea Party / 16 Dec. 1773)
Hot-takes from Abigail + Sam + John Adams & the Town of Boston... -
“This Tea Is Too Cheap!” #2 🫖 (Boston Tea Party / 16 Dec. 1773)
Hot-takes from Abigail + Sam + John Adams & the Town of Boston... -
“This Tea Is Too Cheap!” #2 🫖 (Boston Tea Party / 16 Dec. 1773)
Hot-takes from Abigail + Sam + John Adams & the Town of Boston... -
“This Tea Is Too Cheap!” #2 🫖 (Boston Tea Party / 16 Dec. 1773)
Hot-takes from Abigail + Sam + John Adams & the Town of Boston... -
“This Tea Is Too Cheap!” #2 🫖 (Boston Tea Party / 16 Dec. 1773)
Hot-takes from Abigail + Sam + John Adams & the Town of Boston... -
“The rise of #capitalism caused a dramatic deterioration of human welfare. In all regions studied here, incorporation into the capitalist world-system was associated with a decline in wages to below subsistence, a deterioration in human stature, and an upturn in premature mortality.”
#inequality #slavery
https://www.sciencedirect.com/science/article/pii/S0305750X22002169 -
#Imperialism: world powers rose to where they are by violently thieving from other nations. (2023 pre-purge of politics journalism at TV by Editors/investors)
https://www.teenvogue.com/story/what-is-imperialismUpdate on Imperialism May 2026 see Trumpland/Venezuela plunder for oil
https://www.commondreams.org/news/trump-venezuela-51st-state -
5 (b) Being born or getting citizenship in an Imperial - stolen wealth - regime.
(Eg. Elon Musk from British Colonial Canada-SouthAfrica-USA)
Imperialism: world powers rose to where they are by violently thieving from other nations.
https://www.teenvogue.com/story/what-is-imperialism -
UK slavery reparations must be top issue at Commonwealth summit, says campaigner https://www.theguardian.com/world/2026/may/11/uk-slavery-reparations-must-be-top-issue-at-commonwealth-summit-says-campaigner-ralph-gonsalves #ReparationsAndReparativeJustice #CommonwealthOfNations #Slavery #WorldNews #UkNews
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[content note: mention of lynching, sexualized harm, and murder of a child]
Another fact:
Yes, that Julia Ward Howe. Writer of the Battle Hymn of the Republic. Which was an appropriation of John Brown's Body, a communally-created song in honor of an abolitionist who opposed slavery by shooting people.
"Women are stripped to the skin in the presence of leering, white-skinned, black-hearted brutes and lashed into insensibility and strangled to death from the limbs of trees. A girl child of fifteen years was lynched recently by these brutal bullies. Where has justice fled? The eloquence of Wendell Phillips is silent now. John Brown’s body lies moldering in the grave. But will his spirit lie there moldering, too? Brutes, inhuman monsters—you heartless brutes—you whom nature forms by molding you in it, deceive not yourselves by thinking that another John Brown will not arise." – Lucy Parsons, 1892
https://theanarchistlibrary.org/library/lucy-e-parsons-southern-lynchings
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/John_Brown%27s_Body
9/
#JohnBrown #LucyParsons #racism #slavery #lynching #murder #abuse #childDeath
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So fun fact for Mother's Day:
Anna Jarvis, founder the official US holiday, apparantly didn't like that Mother's Day had become commercialized, and later in life wanted to rescind the holiday.
Remember, this is the woman whose mother provided material support for Conferderate (and Union) soldiers in the Civil War through her Mothers' Day Work Clubs, in the name of "neutrality" – which furthered the cause of slavery by feeding and clothing those fighting for it. These clubs were a precursor to Mother's Day.
And her daughter didn't want the holiday based on those roots to be commercialized? Well, you know what?
You lie down with white supremacist enslaver dogs, you get up with capitalist fleas. I hope she died mad.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Anna_Jarvis
8/
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No wait, this is peak white motherhood:
"Under her guidance, the clubs fed and clothed soldiers from both sides who were stationed in the area."
I guess supporting Black mothers wasn't within the remit of those clubs, while providing material support for those fighting to enslave them was.
This is what "neutrality" means: support for oppression, support for enslavement, support for genocide.
4/
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The "neutrality" didn't stop after the Civil War.
"Mothers Friendship Day" in 1868 was for healing, unity, and reconciliation between white families/soldiers who had fought for enslavement and those who had not.
No mention in the Wikipedia article of Black families and former enslaved people, and where they fit into healing, unity, and reconciliation.
This is where Mother's Day comes from: material support and "reconciliation" for enslavers, erasure of Black and Indigenous motherhood, and support for the oppression of Black and Indigenous people, including mothers.
5/
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Mother's Day in the US was inspired by Ann Jarvis, who started Mother's Day Work Clubs in the Appalacian region in the 1850s.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ann_Jarvis
During the Civil War:
"Ann Jarvis urged the [Mother's Day] clubs to declare neutrality and to provide aid to both Confederate and Union soldiers."
Neutrality in a war to continue enslaving people, including mothers.
Peak white motherhood.
3/
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A Slave named MARY,
Says she belongs to Lewis Blake, residing near Abbeville Court House, (S C) She is 5 feet 1 inch high, and appears to be about 16 years of age. The said Slave not having been claimed by her owner, will be sold for the payment of Work House fees and charges.
Conditions cash; the purchaser to pay for Sheriff's Bill of Sale.
W. LAVAL, City Sheriff.
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United States propaganda - "Land of the free"
The Star‑Spangled Banner contains the line:
“O’er the land of the free and the home of the brave.” - written by Francis Scott Key in 1814.
Slavery was still legal.
The song writer owned slaves. He was a lawyer who prosecuted abolitionists, and sought the death penalty against a white man for distributing abolitionist literature.
Today, many Americans are slaves and do not realize it, because they believe the lie.
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#JAKE #CLIFFORD aepiot.com/advanced-sea... #PAUL #WORLEY advanced-search.allgraph.ro/advanced-sea... #SLAVERY IN #SOMALIA www.perplexity.ai/search/new?q... www.paypal.com/donate?busin... aePiot: The vision for Web 4.0. Create your semantic nodes and lead SEO.
MultiSearch Tag Explorer -
#JAKE #CLIFFORD aepiot.com/advanced-sea... #PAUL #WORLEY advanced-search.allgraph.ro/advanced-sea... #SLAVERY IN #SOMALIA www.perplexity.ai/search/new?q... www.paypal.com/donate?busin... aePiot: The vision for Web 4.0. Create your semantic nodes and lead SEO.
MultiSearch Tag Explorer -
Context, Thought, and Learning: ShiraDest publications Offers Project Do Better @[email protected] ·
Passing To Freedom, Chapter 33: Betrayal?
Chapter 33
Farmer Brown had left the barn, and Brutus had walked in, glaring at me:
“Your little gal has betrayed us.”
My breath cut short. That can’t be right. How could it be?
“What? Which little gal?”
How could that be possible? Young Tilly, he had told me, was safe. Little Sal. My dear little Sally. She had also known about Dr. H.
“No.”
Brutus glowered at me. Then, he repeated himself, as if speaking to a small child:
“You heard me right. I said your little high yella gal, has betrayed us.”
That could only mean little Sal.
“And what about Little Tilly?”
“Oh, she’s safe. Don’t you worry about her. She is in good hands. It’s that other little friend of yours,” he had looked at me, here, as if to emphasize that young Tilly could not possibly be any real relation to me, “that quadroon child.”
His look was even more hostile than when we first met.
“Little Sally.”
He had nodded once, and then pursed his lips. I fought to keep the tears in my eyes from brimming over, recalling the flesh of Miss Mary’s back hanging in ribbons from her limp body, little Sal tied next to her. I refused to believe that this man, and this whole town, could believe that small child guilty of such a thing.
“Who could she have possibly betrayed, she is-”
“From here to half of Maryland,” he had said, a grim set to his face that promised swift and brutal vengeance upon the source of this calamity. I stepped back, aghast. He spat out the confirmation I had feared:
“Dr. H, his wife, and another Conductor, too.”
My stomach turned. Our meeting site by the President’s House, and from there to Dr. H’s house. She knew.
“But she was whipped, wasn’t she,” I began, hoping to make him see reason, “she was just a little thing.”
My pleading eyes met rock solid refusal in his stare.
“She is just like little Tilly!”
He shook his head, setting his face against me, as if the two young girls were not only of different skin colors, but belonged to two different species’ altogether. As if I were also from a wholly different species than he.
I frowned. Then I understood. The grapevine must be asking how could I resist turning on the rest of them.
“Really?”
His tone of voice woke me up, hitting me in the chest. I felt as if a hole had been punched in my very heart.
“What is wrong with you?”
I had not been able to contain myself.
“That poor girl has clearly been forced.”
More grief threatened to break my gritted teeth and spill past my lips.
Brutus only glared. Then he spat out the worst of it:
“She has compromised our entire operation for moving people across the Mason-Dixon Line.”
“What?” I swallowed the bile that began to rise up in my throat. All our hopes, ruined. How? I had seen little Sal tied there, that night, by the light of the fire. Then I remembered. Even worse than the information that little Sal might have divulged. If her confessions had led them to Dr. H, then that meant…
“Berty?”
Berty? Who was Berty? A female voice, deep and soothing, was calling that name, almost in a whisper, while something warm and soft patted my face. The voice sounded familiar, and not dangerous, but who? It was not Miss Mary, nor yet that of my dear and so long missed Anna. The smell of lavender wafted into my nose, and with it, that voice:
“Miss Berty, honey, wake up.”
I opened my eyes, and the face of Brutus’ wife brought me back to the present moment. And to the present problem. Oh, God, I must have fainted. Every one from Pennsylvania down to Virginia would be in danger, and… I clenched my fists to keep from vomiting. Anna. Then, all was nausea and darkness, again.
***
Passing to Freedom: Willow’s Story
a historical novel by D. Antonia Jones, aka Nia,
or Ni, fka Shira Destinie Jones
#AnnAnna #BlackHistory #historicalFiction #slavery #writing -
1526 - 1619 - 1776/2026
https://truthout.org/articles/500-year-old-slave-revolt-of-1526-redefines-freedom-as-us-turns-250/More by Jesse Hagopian
https://iamaneducator.com/#Capitalism #Exploitation #Revolt #Slavery #workingclasshistory
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1526 - 1619 - 1776/2026
https://truthout.org/articles/500-year-old-slave-revolt-of-1526-redefines-freedom-as-us-turns-250/More by Jesse Hagopian
https://iamaneducator.com/#Capitalism #Exploitation #Revolt #Slavery #workingclasshistory
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1526 - 1619 - 1776/2026
https://truthout.org/articles/500-year-old-slave-revolt-of-1526-redefines-freedom-as-us-turns-250/More by Jesse Hagopian
https://iamaneducator.com/#Capitalism #Exploitation #Revolt #Slavery #workingclasshistory
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1526 - 1619 - 1776/2026
https://truthout.org/articles/500-year-old-slave-revolt-of-1526-redefines-freedom-as-us-turns-250/More by Jesse Hagopian
https://iamaneducator.com/#Capitalism #Exploitation #Revolt #Slavery #workingclasshistory
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1526 - 1619 - 1776/2026
https://truthout.org/articles/500-year-old-slave-revolt-of-1526-redefines-freedom-as-us-turns-250/More by Jesse Hagopian
https://iamaneducator.com/#Capitalism #Exploitation #Revolt #Slavery #workingclasshistory
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Context, Thought, and Learning: ShiraDest publications Offers Project Do Better @[email protected] ·
Passing To Freedom, Chapter 32: New Skills
Chapter 32
“Good mornin’, ma’am.”
I awoke just before sunrise to the soft nuzzling of Old Mary’s habitual morning greeting. The first thing I thought of was Tilly, but the next thing I thought of was Old Mary’s frog. I had slept in her stall, curled up next to her for warmth, even sharing one of my blankets with her, since I did not know if horses felt the cold the way we human beings do. I was also missing both Anna and Tilly, as I tried not to mourn for my poor Miss Mary. Was she was alive or dead? I pushed away the thought of what might have happened to poor little Sally, using the work of examining and cleaning Old Mary’s hoof to force myself to focus on the here and now. I must start making inquiries to find Tilly, I reminded myself, trying not to worry about where my dear Anna might be right now. I feared that she might worry if we took too long to get to our destination. That plan now seemed like nearly a lifetime ago.
I gave Old Mary and the other horses their morning feed, as the children had taught me. Then I started on their daily barn chores, mucking out the stalls. I was finishing the first stall when I heard Farmer Brown call out:
“Good morning!”
He doffed his hat to me as I turned to greet him, leaning on my rake. He started to laugh as if the circus was in town.
“What’s so funny?”
He swiped at his face, wiping tears out of his eyes, and pointed to my legs. Then he laughed even more. I looked down to see my bloomers, now spattered in muck. I had tucked my skirts up but forgotten to wear hose.
“Oh.”
Now I saw why barn chores was children’s work.
I began to laugh along with him. Then I saw three little heads pop up, laughing with us. The children were rolling in the hay up in the loft. Old Mary, whose presence I had entirely forgotten, nudged me in the back affectionately with her head, and I rubbed her muzzle.
“I am sorry that I have no carrots or apples for you, ma’am.”
Old Mary tossed her head.
“That’s not like you, miss Lady.” Are you also worrying about our little Tilly? I saw Farmer Brown looking at us, but he held his peace.
“Could you have a look at my work on Old Mary’s frog, here, please, Mr. Brown? I just want to be sure-”
He stepped over and took hold of her hoof mid sentence.
“Won’t you take her out of her stall and bring her over by the door. Light’s better.”
Why had I not thought of that this morning?
He had inspected it, pronounced it a tolerably good job, and then cleaned it just a bit more before spreading a salve on it.
“Breakfast is ready.”
We both jumped.
Brutus’ wife smiled as she turned, gesturing gracefully for us to follow her. Neither of us had seen her come in.
Mr. Brown looked around, seeing the result of all the morning’s earlier work, and gave me a satisfied nod:
“You learn pretty quick there, Miss Berty.”
I felt a jolt of pride as I straightened up and delivered him my best curtsy, telling him
“Why thank you kindly, Farmer Brown.”
I couldn’t help adding a slightly mocking intonation. He shook his head while rolling his eyes, and then did something I did not expect.
He offered me his arm. I accepted, glad for the comradery, and that I was at last beginning to learn some useful skills.
As we ate breakfast, I noticed Brutus observing me. He had the look of one who is trying to make up his mind about something. I had seen that look before. He was deciding what information to share with me.
Brutus exchanged a glance with his wife, then cleared his throat. We all stopped eating, and looked up at Brutus. He looked directly at me:
“I have seen the work you did today. You are a quick study, Miss Berty.” A general chuckle went around the table, “And you are also a hard worker.”
I nodded my thanks, waiting for him to continue.
“I will also admit that this is not something I had expected to see from the Quality,” his wife had looked sharply at him, and he grinned, adding, “Miss Berty.”
I smiled, and looked over at our Farmer Brown, before looking back at Brutus. I quirked an eyebrow. Brutus surely had more to say.
“Miss Berty,” he began, “I want to apologize to you, for the way I treated you yesterday.” He had the good grace to look slightly embarrassed as I nodded my acceptance. He went on, “You will know, of course, that many people of your complexion are not always friends to those of us with darker hued skin.”
I frowned, not knowing what to say. I knew that it was so. After a moment, I decided that there was really nothing I could say, and so I blinked, and nodded slowly. He looked satisfied, and drew a deep breath, as if he were about to reveal some important secret.
“I am one of the conductors in this town.”
He paused. I nodded again, grateful.
“Thank you for-”
But he held up a hand, and I fell silent.
“Our Farmer Brown here,” at this he arched an eyebrow in Mr. Brown’s direction, “has told me that you are anxious to know the whereabouts of the young child he saw traveling with you the other night.”
“Yes, do you know-”
Again, he held up his hand:
“Yes, I have news of a young child, who seems to fit the description that I have of your girl, and she is safe.”
I let out a sigh of relief that must have been heard all the way down to Mexico, and then looked at him, waiting.
He nodded, repeating, “she is safe,” and gave me a strange look, then continued, “with a trusted family, being looked after, as you are here, looking after your horse.”
He fell silent, then, his face closed. That is all I will hear, for now. I nodded, and waited to see if he had anything more to say. He dug a fork into his grits, as did all of us, finishing our breakfasts in silence. At least little Tilly she was safe. That was about all that I could ask for, right now.
After breakfast, I walked back to the barn with Mr. Brown, who was going to have a look at each of the horses from top to bottom. I was going back, without my bloomers, to the task of mucking out stalls and tidying up the barn.
After a while, as we worked, I heard him clear his throat, and looked up to see him watching me. I arched an eyebrow, waiting.
“Do you know what you plan to do,” he finally started, “once you get up North?”
Where had this question come from?
“I really haven’t had time to give it much thought,” I finally admitted.
“Why?”
“Cause you will have to,” he was taking care to speak each word, for some reason, one at a time, as if in warning, or in prophecy, “decide.”
Then he stopped and looked up at me, almost accusingly. And he waited.
“Decide?” What was he getting at?
“Decide what, I pray?” And I did pray it was not what I thought it was.
“What color you wants to be.”
The directness of it took me by surprise, but not the idea. It was, sickeningly, what I thought it would be. Again. The question of my loyalty. Of whether I would pass. For white.
“I don’t think there is a choice, for I doubt I could pass if I wanted to. We tried it already, young Tilly and I, in Maryland, and I cannot pass, it seems.”
“You could pass alright, up North,” Farmer Brown had paused, then added, “most likely, but not ‘til you gets up to New York, at least, ‘sept for one of these newcomers straight off the boat, an’ thas only if none of these slave catchers gets to ‘em fust.”
He’s right. That explained why Dr. H’s wife had believed that our ruse could succeed, but the Dr. himself had looked less hopeful. For a Northerner like herself, I was as good as white, but native Southerners prided themselves on being able to recognize a quadroon or even an octoroon on first sight.
He smiled, a bit sad looking, saying,
“I been up to New York, sho’ wish I’da stayed up there, now, but I seen how they treat people like you.”
I looked up at him:
“People like me?” I frowned. “How?”
“Like they was white, “ he said simply.
***
#AnnAnna #BlackHistory #historicalFiction #slavery #writing -
Title: We Are Still HERE!
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#Capitalism is based on two pillars:
-Private property of the means of production
- Wage labour
Its purpose is the accumulation of more #wealth
#Authoritarianism #slavery #inequality #technofeudalism
https://youtu.be/lPBmGP8CDus?is=b911hPRjsZcSHdRj -
Story of enslaved boy featured in 1748 Joshua Reynolds portrait emerges in new study https://www.theguardian.com/world/2026/may/08/study-sheds-light-on-story-of-enslaved-boy-jersey-featured-in-1748-joshua-reynolds-portrait #Slavery #Painting #ArtAndDesign #UkNews #Race #TheNationalTrust #Children #Devon #Art #Culture
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nothing to see here, just #HowardLutnick's #stablecoin company #Tether showing up as the preferred choice of slave traders and rapists in #Cambodia for the 10,000th time
https://x.com/jacobincambodia/status/2052303444166451361
#USDT #crypto #cryptocurrency #ASEAN #myanmar #malaysia #corruption #uspol #uspolitics #CantorFitzgerald #slavery
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nothing to see here, just #HowardLutnick's #stablecoin company #Tether showing up as the preferred choice of slave traders and rapists in #Cambodia for the 10,000th time
https://x.com/jacobincambodia/status/2052303444166451361
#USDT #crypto #cryptocurrency #ASEAN #myanmar #malaysia #corruption #uspol #uspolitics #CantorFitzgerald #slavery
-
nothing to see here, just #HowardLutnick's #stablecoin company #Tether showing up as the preferred choice of slave traders and rapists in #Cambodia for the 10,000th time
https://x.com/jacobincambodia/status/2052303444166451361
#USDT #crypto #cryptocurrency #ASEAN #myanmar #malaysia #corruption #uspol #uspolitics #CantorFitzgerald #slavery
