Woe Unto Us: A Lament

Children magical and joyful

Reflections of their parents’ deepest desires

Their own little images reflecting

The glory of the maker of heaven and earth.

Across the globe, children created in the images of their parents

And the Lord of heaven and earth

Objects of war and victims of greed and

Broken humanity and its terror toward one another.

Magic in the garden one day and

Images of gasps for breath the next.

Whose children are they and to whom do they belong

If not to their parents and their country and the world

Then to whom?

In this world you’ll have trouble but

Be encouraged for I have overcome the world

Are the words of the risen Lord.

The world is troubled and we are troubled

And our troubles boil over and trouble others who are troubled.

So we drop another bomb on the ones responsible

But they knew it was coming.

The world is all inflamed even more so than before.

Who is to blame and who is to be the defender of the

Fatherless and the children and the widows.

Children. Dead children. Pictures horrify and offend.

Casualties of war. Leaders poisoning their own.

Children left on the shores of our country unable

To cross over into peace and opportunity.

Who cares for those kids and who will care for the deceased and who

Will care for their parents.

And when will wars end and who will end them

And how many soldiers will have to die and how

Many families will suffer losses unspeakable.

When will bombs create peace.

When will explosions bring about harmony.

When will war stop war.

When will death stop death.

The irony is unspeakable.

The contradictions have no words.

The joys for those parents and grandparents,

And the unspeakable grief for those.

Where is the justice and righteousness its kin?

Where is anguish of those children and our own?

Those children matter so let’s start a war.

These children matter, and who will fight for them?

I am a father. I am a grandfather.

I have a family. My sons have families.

Someday my sons’ children will have families.

What of them. Do their lives matter.

Whose lives matter and whose lives don’t.

Who gets to decide.

Who will send the next bomb?

Who will unleash the next gas bomb.

Whose children and grandchildren will suffocate.

Whose children and grandchildren will thrive.

Who gets to decide?

Woe unto us who care not for the children.

Reflections Near the Beginning: Black Farmers versus the USDA

The documentary has been a dream for Shoun Hill and me for a long time. A near miss on a grant opportunity followed by another application that was not awarded to us was then led by a completely “out of the blue,” shot in the dark application that was accepted. We are now on our way.

You are on your way to what, you might ask.  We are on our way to the telling via audio, video, text, and other means the untold stories of the “Davids” of the black farmer movement versus the “Goliaths” of the black farmer movement. We understand David versus Goliath, small, seemingly weak and under prepared and limited in resources against Goliath, strong, fierce, undefeated, prideful, and limitless resources and power.

Several black farmer cases were filed against the USDA in the 1990s and alleged unbelievable yet believable and egregious acts of benign and willful discrimination based simply upon the color of their skin. This does not happen in America, many have said to me, family and friends. Yes, it does happen in America. It did and it still does.

Someone had to catch the vision of litigating these cases. That attorney was found in Texas and one by one a large number of farmers found their way to him. Self-described as a black man who understood walking in the white world, an activist, and one committed to representing the marginalized, he moved to the forefront of the battlefield. Competent, prepared, resourceful, and ostentatious, James Myart was up for the fight.

Recently, Shoun and I spent a day with him as he reminisced about the early days and the battles won and lost on behalf of farmers. Surely, he would do some things over again, but he finds great pride in winning some battles, and grieved that he did not win more. We sat for several hours, talked, remembered, and cried. Without Attorney at Law James Myart, there might not have been a farmer movement. With him, cases were settled out of court via administrative processes, and with those farmers, wins, and trials and tribulations, the Black Farmer Movement would eventually emerge in what is called the Pigford Class Action Suit. Mr. Myart played a pivotal role then, and he’ll play a pivotal role in the documentary.

Recently, Shoun and I traveled to rural Georgia to meet with the Long brothers and to hear their stories of their parents’ fight as Davids against Goliath. We met on a Saturday morning in the shade of the shop of one of the brothers. A cool southerly breeze caressed us as we talked, filmed, and walked about on a hot and humid day. They were full of stories of their parents. 

They were into truth-telling in its most intimate ways. They reflected a commitment to telling their parents’ stories in a way that mirrored their parents’ commitment to justice for themselves and for all black farmers. With intense emotion intermingled with tears and laughter, the brothers three told story after story after story that limned the edges of their father’s farming while black against all manner of odds and discriminative behavior, farm/home plans altered, operating funds received too little too late, too few consults from the local FmHA office, and on and on the story went. These legends in the black farmer movement died too young. Farming is hard work, farming while black is even harder, and farming while black while fighting Goliath is even more arduous, painful, and life-shortening.

We broke for lunch of southern fried catfish, hush puppies, and cole slaw and more story telling. We wrapped up a full day by walking the old home place. The win over Goliath allowed their parents to hold on to the farm and even to fix it up some. A story of a white friend went beyond the bounds of friendship. The white friend bought the farm which kept the FmHA from seizing it. When the Long case was settled, Goliath defeated, the farmer bought the land back from his white friend.

Shoun and I have much, much more to do. We will go southwest, south, and up even into the DC area. We are covering a lot of territory. We are hearing a lot of stories.

We have more to tell.

Blessed Are You, Or Maybe Cursed, Revised

Blessed are you who protest against injustice

For great is your reward in heaven,

But here on earth, great is your mistreatment.

Blessed are you who march for causes that are righteous

For great is your reward in heaven,

But here on the earth, great is the derision with which people treat you.

Blessed are you, Black farmers of this land, who till the soil you love

For great is your reward in heaven

But here on the earth, great is the time that you will wait for your loans. 

Blessed are you, Black farmers of this land, whose blood is on the land

For great is your reward in heaven

But here on the earth, great is your suffering as you wait for justice. 

Blessed are you, whose skin is dark, who labor sun up to sun down

For great is your reward in heaven,

But here on the earth, great is your grief as your friends pass to the ancestors.

Blessed are you who resist programs and policies that malign the least of these

For great is your reward in heaven,

But here on the earth, you will be viewed as anti-American.

Blessed are you who kneel on behalf of people who are treated with brutality

For great is your reward in heaven,

But here on the earth, you will be maligned by folks who think it is about the flag.

Blessed are you who write or speak up for the good of the poor

For great is your reward in heaven,

But here on the earth you will be viewed as ungrateful for the opportunities you have had.

Blessed are you who do not settle for laws that enhance the rich and marginalize the poor

For great is your reward in heaven,

But here on the earth, the privileged will view you askance.

Blessed are you who stir the pot for things that are righteous and good and true

For great is your reward in heaven,

But here on the earth expect pushback after pushback after pushback.

Blessed are you who dream of a better world

For great is your reward in heaven,

But here on the earth you know sleepless nights.

Blessed are you who recognize that privilege has been yours to wear

For great is your reward in heaven,

But here on the earth anticipate ridicule for your beliefs and ideas.

Blessed are you who recognize that the world can be a better place,

Who do not wait for heaven to bring about change,

Who protest, march, resist, kneel, write, speak up, stir the pot, recognize, and other things

Because you could not live with yourself otherwise.

No, you could not live with yourself otherwise.

And in doing so, you find other advocates and friends, and you all make the world a better place.