In 1913, on the grounds of UNC-Chapel Hill, philanthropist Julian S. Carr dedicated the statue of a Confederate Soldier known as Silent Sam. Carr could have discussed many things in his speech. He chose to boast about his inhumane torture of a Black woman.
Carr said,
“I trust I may be pardoned for one allusion, howbeit it is rather personal. One hundred yards from where we stand, less than ninety days perhaps after my return from Appomattox, I horse-whipped a negro wench until her skirts hung in shreds, because upon the streets of this quiet village she had publicly insulted and maligned a Southern lady, and then rushed for protection to these University buildings where was stationed a garrison of 100 Federal soldiers. I performed the pleasing duty in the immediate presence of the entire garrison, and for thirty nights afterwards slept with a double-barrel shot gun under my head.”
Source: https://www.hngreenphd.com/silent-sam-dedication-speech.html
Silent Sam, Part 1: The Maligned Woman Speaks
Your actions did not make it better but
My silence made it worse. I did nothing.
The lash of the whip! How deep it did cut
My sister! My conscience – my reckoning-
Became, “Dear God let this pass from me.” And
So I saved myself. For what? For a god
We had made in your image. Blood-drenched sand
Under her skirt became a lightning rod.
Our children wander in a trance and say
They don’t see. Her children point to that space.
Some want justice. Some want revenge. The day
Will come when light exposes my disgrace,
And frees me from shackles of my making,
Which I chose when Love was there for the taking.
-Allegra Jordan
Silent Sam, Part 2: My Soul is not Shredded
My soul is not shredded.
What gives you pleasure from my pain?
To brag with glee at your handiwork…
Pieces of cloth, blood-streaked from the horsewhip’s
Fury…no…your impotence taking form as fury.
You see my worth through clouded eyes
By blinded notions of superiority not earned or deserved.
Does viewing me as less than, elevate your humanity?
Does the blackness of my skin hold a mirror
To the blackness of your heart—
A deep soulless pit, void of empathy and love?
You poor fool.
The shreds of this skirt are your legacy’s shroud.
The linen bands you ripped will mummify all that you were,
And bind your children’s children.
A hundred years from now no one will be able to see you
Without hearing about my skirt.
But I will listen for a deeper sound.
I will call to a deeper well.
I cry to my ancestors, “Comfort me!”
I see the children of my future rise up
And create a kinder world.
I pray with a soul that is not shredded
But held in love by a love so big.
I wish love for me. I wish love.
Love.
-B. Tiane Mitchell Gordon, 1955-2020, & Allegra Jordan
This poem was co-authored with the late Tiane Mitchell Gordon who served as one of the most powerful U.S. corporate diversity officers in the 2000s. She was descended from African slaves and grew up in North Carolina during segregation before heading major diversity initiatives in New York City and Washington, D.C. Allegra Jordan, co-author, had an Alabama grandfather who was one of the last living sons of a Confederate veteran. Allegra’s Ohio great-grandfather owned a house used by the Underground Railroad.
Allegra Jordan 