In the beginning of the year, when I started my AP US History course, my teacher warned me that there would many things in the history of the United States that would contradict what we’ve grown up believing, that there are many United States actions and decisions have been and are questionable. At the time, I thought I knew that there were many flaws in American history — things like Benghazi and Abu Ghraib — but as I learn more and more, US History presents itself as much more complicated than that.
As we delve into the history of antebellum America, I’ve begun to realize that there are many things that have been glazed over and romanticized in mainstream culture and the media’s portrayal of the American nation. For example, Thomas Jefferson, one of the country’s Founding Fathers, was one of the country’s greatest contradictions. He, a Democratic-Republican, had many Democratic-Republican values (this party is unrelated to any contemporary political parties): he had little faith in a strong central government, westward expansion, and loose interpretation of the Constitution (he believed that all government powers were explicitly stated in the Constitution; one could not claim any implied powers from the Constitution); he believed in personal liberties and in the common man. And yet, Jefferson doubled the size of the country in the famous Louisiana Purchase; he took many liberties in said purchase, since the Constitution did not explicitly grant the President the power to seal negotiations.
This last week, we began covering a subject that’s been a topic of debate since the Articles of Confederation were ratified: slavery.
In class, we don’t often watch videos or documentaries. When we do, students tend to doze off, or work on other homework. Understandably, many of my classmates look forward to such days where we do watch documentaries.
This past Thursday a few of my friends who had history the period before I did warned me that the documentary we would be watching in class would be “so boring.” They said they fell asleep during class.
And so, I walked into class expecting a dry documentary that would lull me to sleep. But instead, my teacher put on a documentary about slavery: this one in particular dealt with the journey of Solomon Northup and the life of Harriet Ann Jacob. I didn’t fall asleep during the class; in fact, I hardly felt sleepy at all. Watching the documentary made an ugly knot of an unidentifiable emotion swell in my chest; I couldn’t stop shaking my leg like an analeptic; my blood began to boil and when a few students in the back of the class began laughing — they weren’t paying any attention to the documentary; they were off joking about their own things — I suddenly grew very irritated.
And the strangest thing was that, for some reason, I didn’t know why I became upset.
Perhaps I reacted this way because I believed that I should have. Perhaps I thought that, as a well-read, mature, and morally conscious sixteen-year-old, I was required to feel angry. Perhaps I thought that, since I knew slavery was wrong, I should feel angry.
Perhaps I reacted this way because the idea of slavery — the idea of having your freedom forcibly taken away from you — is so abstract to me. As a citizen born and raised in 21st century America, I’ve dealt with very little prejudice before. Even as a child of an immigrant — a child of someone who fled their home country in search of that freedom — I still can’t imagine living without freedom; it’s something I’ve taken for granted.
It’s hard to conceptualize the idea that creating something like a Bill of Rights was radical at the time of the Founding Fathers. It’s hard for me to imagine life without these basic liberties: the rights to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. Before this class, I’ve heard these words so often before. At school, at home, on the Internet, on the TV. But really, at the time of the founding of America, these words were radical.
Perhaps I reacted because I wanted to understand, and because I couldn’t understand. And I can’t — I can’t really wrap my head around the idea of slavery and the idea of these guaranteed liberties.
But I do know that over time, I’ve become desensitized to these ideas. I’ve heard the phrase “Life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness” so many times now that the phrase that was once radical and sharp is now dull and trite, well-worn and smooth around the edges from being handled too many times. I’ve seen the cover of Uncle Tom’s Cabin. I’ve seen the photos of “whipped Peter” more times than I can count.
And yet, after seeing these things so many times, I’ve become accustomed to them. I’ve grown complacent in my understanding of history; I’ve begun taking things for granted. The severity of these ideas and these events have lost their sting.
We learn about slavery in class; we read passages about women’s suffrage and Jim Crow laws and abolition and disenfranchisement and “I Have a Dream” but every time Martin Luther King day rolls around, the only real and genuine recognition it gets is because students get a day off. I think that we’ve become numb to these things after seeing them so often and so graphic.
Even so, taking a US history course has really opened my eyes. Now, I see America as the greatest contradiction: the land of the free and the home of the brave — yes, but slavery wasn’t abolished until nearly a hundred years after the Declaration of Independence was signed; by the people and for the people — well yes, but politicians are still entrenched in their positions today, and common men do not hold office (unlike what many Founding Fathers envisioned); all men are created equal — I suppose, but even after the Civil War, and even after Martin Luther King Jr, the remnants of racism and prejudice are still prevalent in our society today. Fredrick Douglass’ Fourth of July speech highlights the contradiction upon which America was built: the virtues of personal liberties and the vices of supporting slavery. There are many things that represent this kind of irony, the greatest kind of juxtaposition.
And I think, in a sense, these things are to be expected. There is no way to erase prejudice and racism; people like people who look like them, who talk like them, who eat like them. Humans are creatures of patterns and we are quick to try and find patterns to predict the future. These habits often culminate in very ugly forms of stereotypes and prejudice, but they are human faults. Unavoidable, perhaps, but we should also recognize them, and strive to avoid them.
There’s so much I don’t know. There are so many people who have come before me. Sometimes, I think it’s impossible to accurately record history; there are so many stories untold and so many things that are left out of textbooks — emotions and anecdotes and motives that eventually are edited out to make history clean and concise. And many of their stories are being written today; there are still people out there, fighting for what I take for granted every single day.
And I think, in some ways, I am a product of all of those people and their suffering. I am a product of every woman who fights for suffrage; I am a product of every person of color who pushes for more opportunities; I am a product of every citizen demands equality and justice; I am a product of all of their pain and their efforts. And most of the time, I take this for granted; I don’t really understand — what wars have been fought, what movements have been advocated, what protests have taken place — for me to be where and who I am today.
Perhaps I won’t ever know what having my liberty taken away feels like, but I can continue to read and learn. I will continue to grow as an individual and as a daughter and as a citizen, and perhaps eventually, I’ll be able to understand the injustices that so many before me have had to suffer so that I can live the life I do.
