Ancient History My Youth

I've read fifteen, maybe twenty books about the civil rights movement, particularly when it comes to what happened in Mississippi.  A really disturbing thing happens when I do this: these books, they talk about people I've met, people I know, and sometimes people I know or knew really well.  Events happen within organizations, and sometimes physical places I know, sometimes really well.  This wasn't ancient history.  This was my youth.  MY youth.

When I go to Millsaps now, I see kids wandering around thinking about each other, or games, or their books, or their supper, and I think, "do you know what went on here?  Do you KNOW?"

Every single book talks about Millsaps and Tougaloo.  Every single one.  More than Ole Miss, most of them.  They almost never mention State or Southern or Belhaven, but always Millsaps, and more often than not Galloway.

I'd like to say that my school and my church were always on the side of right and good and love, but they weren't.  They resisted.  They sought the moderate path.  I can say that both broached the color barrier considerably earlier than their neighbors.  I don't mean breached, either.  They broached it; they pierced this great vessel of hate and let gravity and time widen the orifice, every moment a pain to some and a celebration to others.

Whenever racial matters came up, dad would wince a little in pain.  No matter what he chose, no matter what he did, someone was going to make a hateful phone call to him.  Someone was going to apply pressure on him to do what they wanted and threaten to do something to hurt the school.  Both sides.  To other people, I'm sure it looked like his face never changed, but I could see it; my mother could, as did my brother, my sister, Rowan, Deaton, and Wingate.  There were signs.  Dad could never be a civil rights hero.  He had to be moderate.  He had to maybe not please both sides but appease them.  The moderate path is not a heroic one, not outwardly,  but inwardly; you're facing pressures and assaults from all sides that have to be maintained without overtly offending anyone.

George was just the opposite.  He was still moderate but never stoic.  He was bombastic, always.  He said, and I heard him say it, "We follow every law, every rule, every goddamn regulation with regards to race."  What he didn't say, but was very clear by his actions, was, "BUT, we will deal with almost anything else.  We will not draw attention to Millsaps with this kind of strife."  In his mind, he was protecting us.  To many, that made him an asshole, a cultural fascist, but I think he was ok with that.  In his mind, he was putting his body between the school and what might hurt it.  He was strong enough to take the heat himself.   

What George knew, what I've come to understand, is that in issues of cultural evolution, the majority never see those who seek change as heroes; at the moment, they're the villains, and only through the lens of history do they become heroes.  In the moment, you don't want to be the guy who resists change either.  You might be a hero in the moment, but history will paint you a villain.  Consider Ross Barnett.  He was a hero in the moment, but what is he now?

George was a little guy, but he was strong, and when he hunkered down, nothing would move him.  Not even my dad.  That's the moderate path, though.  You're a stone in the stream.  You let the water flow over and past you, but you resist it, slowing its force, protecting the weaker creatures living in the lee side of your life.  

I'd love to say that George and my dad were firebrands for social justice in the civil rights movement.  I'd love to say they were revolutionaries because history makes heroes of revolutionaries.  That's not the case, though.  In that moment, in that day, they had to protect what was and let the waters of revolution and change flow around them to their destination.

I'm proud of the place Millsaps and Galloway hold in the history of Mississippi and the revolution of the civil rights movement.  It wasn't a straightforward path, though.  There were times when we resisted and times when we let the water flow through, and we were always among the first to reach the goal of change but always criticized for not being THE first, although we sometimes were.

Traditionalists hate moderates, but sometimes revolutionaries hate them even more.  They want to burn down the world and rebuild it with their philosophy, but that's not always the best path.  There are people living in the homes revolutionaries want to burn, and it's the moderates who shelter them while the world changes.  You don't become a hero.  Nobody builds statues to moderates, but you serve the future and the past and shelter the present, which is a much more difficult task.

Conservatives build dams.  Revolutionaries plow deep channels to let the water charge past with destructive force.  Moderates build meanders and baffles in the stream to stop the flood but let the water pass by us into the sea.  Conservatives hate us.  Revolutionaries hate us. But the water gets to where it needs to go with as little damage as possible.

A Letter To The Christians

 This is a letter to the Christians.

Some of you believe and you have been told that every word in the bible comes from God and should be followed exactly as they are written.  I cannot, and would not try to sway you from this practice, but I will say to you, stop and reconsider three times before you use any of the words in the bible to judge another person because this is what killed Jesus.

Men, who, just like you, only wanted to love and serve God and do what was good and right, used the words of Moses to persecute and prosecute and ultimately to crucify Jesus, the very same words you are using to judge people now.

Jesus said to do unto others as you would have them do unto you.  Judge others as you would have them judge you.  Judge not, lest you be judged.  These are also words in the bible.

In his letter to the Romans, Paul reminds us that God reserves the right of vengeance for himself.  It is not for us to do.  

I say to you, in every aggressive thing, take as much caution as you can possibly muster, except love.  In love, be as aggressive and, energetic and as unfettered as you can possibly be.

The Temple Door

 Sometimes I feel like I'm becoming a mad priest, hammering my fists on the locked temple door.  

"The people are suffering!" I shout.  But the door remains barred.  The sane priests hide from me.

Insecurity and anxiety, and doubt is making us turn into the very thing we feared, and our ancestors fought against.  I don't know how to mend this.  I don't know how to help the people.  So, I'm just going to continue to pound my fists on the locked door of the temple until something happens.  I've broken through doors before.

Setting Goals

Sometimes, when I set goals, I already know how I'm going to accomplish them.  All that's left is getting my head in the game and doing it.  Restoring my body is an example.  I already know everything there is to know about building muscle; I just have to do the work and accomplish it.

Other times, I set goals, and I have no idea how I will accomplish them.  Those are the important ones.  

"Take the ring to Amon Amarth, Frodo."
"How?"
"FIND A WAY!"

Saying I don't know how a goal will be accomplished doesn't mean it won't get done.  It means I don't know how it will get done...yet.

With that in mind, here are my goals for the next twenty years of my life:

I want to add three hundred or four hundred students to the enrollment at Millsaps.  It took twenty years to lose them; we should be able to get them back in twenty.  I owe this to my father, my grandfather, my uncles, my aunts, my cousins, my sister, my brother, my nephew, my wife, my step-child, my father-in-law, To Lance, Brent, Catherine, TW, Jack, Rowan, George, John, Mark, Andrew, Susan, Tommy, Bavender, Joe-Lee, Bill, Lucy, Floy, Suzanne, and especially to Robert Wingate.  

If I'm alive, this will happen!

And probably if I'm not.

My other goal, a more difficult one, I want to make Mississippi, and especially Jackson, a place where young people want to live.  Where they find the most and best opportunities for them.  I'm tired of seeing our best move away forever.  I feel like this might be difficult, but not impossible.  Hell, Rudy Giuliani restored New York, and he's apparently insane.  Surely it can happen here.

My last goal, and this one is just for me; I want to write something people will read long after I'm dead.  I want something that people can hold in their hand and say, "this is what Boyd did with his life."  

I'm planting my flag here.  These things will happen, or I will die trying to make them happen.  I have friends and fellow travelers who will help me along the way.  On these things, I feel like my heart is pure and my aim is true.  That should help.