Wells Barnett Quotes

The way to right wrongs is to turn the light of truth upon them.

one had better die fighting against injustice than to die like a dog or a rat in a trap

A Winchester rifle should have a place of honor in every black home, and it should be used for that protection which the law refuses to give.

If Southern white men are not careful, they will overreach themselves and public sentiment will have a reaction; a conclusion will then be reached which will be very damaging to the moral reputation of their women.

Burning and torture here lasts but a little while, but if I die with a lie on my soul, I shall be tortured forever. I am innocent.

The matter came up for judicial investigation, but as might have been expected, the white people concluded it was unnecessary to wait the result of the investigation—that it was preferable to hang the accused first and try him afterward.

Virtue knows no color line, and the chivalry which depends upon complexion of skin and texture of hair can command no honest respect.

In nearly all communities wife beating is punishable with a fine, and in no community is it made a felony.

The miscegnation laws of the South only operate against the legitimate union of the races; they leave the white man free to seduce all the colored girls he can, but it is death to the colored man who yields to the force and advances of a similar attraction in white women. White men lynch the offending Afro-American, not because he is a despoiler of virtue, but because he succumbs to the smiles of white women.

Eternal vigilance is the price of liberty, and it does seem to me that notwithstanding all these social agencies and activities there is not that vigilance which should be exercised in the preservation of our rights.

The sleeve covered its appendages well until it reached outward to Grady. Instead of a hand, several dark green and black-splotched tentacles spilled out of the sleeve. They snaked through the air toward Grady’s face. They glistened in the early morning light and long strands of a mucous-like substance dripped from them and clung like shiny webs to its robe.

I live well! I may have been swallowed, but I have no intention of being eaten.

Lee Walker, colored man, accused of raping white women, in jail here, will be taken out and burned by whites tonight. Can you send Miss Ida Wells to write it up?

Struggles to coerce uniformity of sentiment in support of some end thought essential to their time and country have been waged by many good as well as by evil men. Nationalism is a relatively recent phenomenon but at other times and places the ends have been racial or territorial security, support of a dynasty or regime, and particular plans for saving souls. As first and moderate methods to attain unity have failed, those bent on its accomplishment must resort to an ever-increasing severity. . . . Those who begin coercive elimination of dissent soon find themselves exterminating dissenters. Compulsory unification of opinion achieves only the unanimity of the graveyard. It seems trite but necessary to say that the First Amendment to our Constitution was designed to avoid these ends by avoiding these beginnings. There is no mysticism in the American concept of the State or of the nature or origin of its authority. We set up government by consent of the governed, and the Bill of Rights denies those in power any legal opportunity to coerce that consent. Authority here is to be controlled by public opinion, not public opinion by authority. If there is any fixed star in our constitutional constellation, it is that no official, high or petty, can prescribe what shall be orthodox in politics, nationalism, religion, or other matters of opinion or force citizens to confess by word or act their faith therein.

Not only is it true that many of the alleged cases of rape against the Negro, are like the foregoing, but the same crime committed by white men against Negro women and girls, is never punished by mob or the law. A leading journal in South Carolina openly said some months ago that “it is not the same thing for a white man to assault a colored woman as for a colored man to assault a white woman, because the colored woman had no finer feelings nor virtue to be outraged!” Yet colored women have always had far more reason to complain of white men in this respect than ever white women have had of Negroes.

LYNCHED BECAUSE THE JURY ACQUITTED HIM The entire system of the judiciary of this country is in the hands of white people. To this add the fact of the inherent prejudice against colored people, and it will be clearly seen that a white jury is certain to find a Negro prisoner guilty if there is the least evidence to warrant such a finding. Meredith Lewis was arrested in Roseland, La., in July of last year. A white jury found him not guilty of the crime of murder wherewith he stood charged.

There can be no possible belief that these people were inspired by any consuming zeal to vindicate God’s law against miscegenationists of the most practical sort. The woman was a willing partner in the victim’s guilt, and being of the “superior” race must naturally have been more guilty.

Well, at least you'll get some down time to heal up before the chemo. Of course, that sounds kind of like in The Princess Bride when they heal Westley up before they torture him.

ASKING WHITE WOMAN TO MARRY HIM May 23, William Brooks, Galesline, Ark.

It's nice," said the mouse. "It's home," said the duck. "You live here?" "I live well! I may have been swallowed, but I have no intention of being eaten.

Then these lynchers went quietly away and the bodies of the woman and three men were taken out and buried with as little ceremony as men would bury hogs.

The colored race multiplies like the locusts of Egypt.

The shorter Negro stood gazing at the horrible death of his brother without flinching. Five minutes later he was also hanged.

I was certain I told you the king was coming.” She planted her hands on her hips. “You did not tell me the king was coming.” “I remember telling you there would be only one more delay until we would marry. That day on the battlements. I remember it distinctly.” “Aye, you did say that, but you failed to mention that the ‘one thing’ was the king of England.” “Well, now you know,” he said casually, as if he were speaking of the time of day or the color of the sky and not something as important as a royal visit. “He is coming tomorrow,” he added. “For our wedding.

Professor Rosalind Chait Barnett of Brandeis University did a comprehensive review of studies on work-life balance and found that women who participate in multiple roles 36 actually have lower levels of anxiety and higher levels of mental well-being. Employed women reap rewards including greater financial security, more stable marriages, better health, and, in general, 37 increased life satisfaction.

LYNCHING STATES Mississippi, 15; Arkansas, 8; Virginia, 5; Tennessee, 15; Alabama, 12; Kentucky, 12; Texas, 9; Georgia, 19; South Carolina, 5; Florida, 7; Louisiana, 15; Missouri, 4; Ohio, 2; Maryland, 1; West Virginia, 2; Indiana, 1; Kansas, 1; Pennsylvania, 1.

The Lord says her head must be pointed toward Golgotha.” The man was crazed. Merrick just looked at him blankly. “Calvary,” the good brother explained. “’Tis the hill where Christ was—” “I bloody well know where Golgotha is, you idiot! I’ve been there! Now get out of this room before I crucify you!

for all victims of the terrible injustice which puts men and women to death without form of law. During the year 1894, there were 132 persons executed in the United States by due form of law, while in the same year, 197 persons were put to death by mobs who gave the victims no opportunity to make a lawful defense.

LYNCHED FOR NO OFFENSE Perhaps the most characteristic feature of this record of lynch law for the year 1893, is the remarkable fact that five human beings were lynched and that the matter was considered of so little importance that the powerful press bureaus of the country did not consider the matter of enough importance to ascertain the causes for which they were hanged.

when I see the same enormities practiced upon beings whose complexion and blood claim kindred with my own, I curse the perpetrators, and weep over the wretched victims of their rapacity. Indeed, truth and justice demand from me the confession that the Christian slaves among the barbarians of Africa are treated with more humanity than the African slaves among the professing Christians of civilized America; and yet here sensibility bleeds at every pore for the wretches whom fate has doomed to slavery." Such testimony would seem to furnish

On Writing Well, by William Zinsser The Elements of Style, by William Strunk Jr. and E. B. White Eats, Shoots & Leaves, by Lynne Truss This Is the Story of a Happy Marriage, by Ann Patchett There are also several podcasts on writing that I like, including these: Grammar Girl Quick and Dirty Tips for Better Writing Write about Now, with Jonathan Small A Way with Words, with Martha Barnette and Grant Barrett Mad Dogs & Englishmen, with Kevin Williamson and Charles C. W. Cooke (this isn’t a podcast about language, but their command of English is incredible)

(Lynched for Wife Beating) In nearly all communities wife beating is punishable with a fine, and in no community is it made a felony. Dave Jackson, of Abita, La., was a colored man who had beaten his wife. He had not killed her, nor seriously wounded her, but as Louisiana lynchers had not filled out their quota of crimes, his case was deemed of sufficient importance to apply the method of that barbarous people. He was in the custody of the officials, but the mob went to the jail and took him out in front of the prison and hanged him by the neck until he was dead. This was in Nov. 1893.

History Eraser I got drunk and fell asleep atop the sheets but luckily i left the heater on. And in my dreams i wrote the best song that i've ever written...can't remember how it goes. I stayed drunk and fell awake and i was cycling on a plane and far away i heard you say you liked me. We drifted to a party -- cool. The people went to arty school. They made their paints by mixing acid wash and lemonade In my brain I re-arrange the letters on the page to spell your name I found an ezra pound and made a bet that if i found a cigarette i'd drop it all and marry you. Just then a song comes on: "you can't always get what you want" -- the rolling stones, oh woe is we, the irony! The stones became the moss and once all inhibitions lost, the hipsters made a mission to the farm. We drove by tractor there, the yellow straw replaced our hair, we laced the dairy river with the cream of sweet vermouth. In my brain I re-arrange the letters on the page to spell your name You said "we only live once" so we touched a little tongue, and instantly i wanted to... I lost my train of thought and jumped aboard the Epping as the doors were slowly closing on the world. I touched on and off and rubbed my arm up against yours and still the inspector inspected me. The lady in the roof was living proof that nothing really ever is exactly as it seems. In my brain I re-arrange the letters on the page to spell your name We caught the river boat downstream and ended up beside a team of angry footballers. I fed the ducks some krill then we were sucked against our will into the welcome doors of the casino. We drank green margaritas, danced with sweet senoritas, and we all went home as winners of a kind. You said "i guarantee we'll have more fun, drink till the moon becomes the sun, and in the taxi home i'll sing you a triffids song!" In my brain I re-arrange the letters on the page to spell your name

It was only my desire to bear this burden with you. As I stated, I have come to care quite deeply for you and your family. Your father was . . . well . . . a brother to me in many ways.” “Then as our . . . uncle,” Hannah replied, “you will understand that we are now in a time of mourning. You will have to excuse me.” She got to her feet. She could see the frustration, perhaps even anger, in Lockhart’s expression as he stepped forward. “I cannot allow you to risk your life or the lives of your brother and sister. I owe it to your father. You are not thinking clearly, therefore I will make the decision for you.” That was the wrong thing to say to Hannah. She felt defiance rear up in her. “I will not be dictated to by you or any other man, Mr. Lockhart. I will seek counsel and learn if you truly do possess this ranch or if it will in fact be returned to Mr. Barnett. Either way, I do not plan to marry you, and I find it cruel that you would even consider such a thing necessary at a time like this.

Now I want to be a rancher and learn how to do everything Will does. He’s gonna grow me up to be a man like him.” Hannah turned to her husband and gave him a look of adoration. “I certainly hope so,” she whispered just before William wrapped her in his arms. He pressed his lips to hers and kissed her long and passionately. Hannah could scarcely draw a breath when he pulled away. “I think she’s startin’ to get used to kissin’ you, William,” Marty said seriously. “I think you just might be right, Miss Marty.” He gave Hannah a mischievous smile and winked. “I think with a little more practice we’ll be just fine.” Hannah felt her cheeks grow hot, but she kept her gaze fixed on William Barnett and smiled. God willing, they would have a long, long life in which to perfect their skills.

In 1981, Mitchell Energy drilled its first well in the Barnett Shale in Wise County, the C.W. Slay No. 1.

A hurtful act is the transference to others of the degradation which we bear in ourselves. —Simone Well

People are born so they can learn how to live a good life like loving and being nice to everybody, right? Well, dogs already know how to do that, so they don’t have to stay as long.

Through the practice of attentive discernment, generations of Quakers have found themselves, to their own surprise, called to live among distant peoples, to welcome strangers into their homes, or to challenge unjust laws, as well as many much quieter activities in daily life. In modern societies that are often deadened by apathy and absence of purpose, these people have discovered a desire to nurture the seed of life they have encountered within, which has made even their struggles and hardships full of significance and sources of gratitude and joy.

In 1919, prior to the riot, Police Chief John Garrity told an incredulous Ida Wells-Barnett that he “could not put all the police in Chicago on the South Side to protect the homes of colored people,” which seemed, in so many ways, as good as saying that the bombs were not his problem.

In the mid-1950s, Governor Luther Hodges cited Aycock’s “march of progress” in his defense of Jim Crow as a system that both ensured political tranquility and enabled racial uplift. His successor in the state house, Terry Sanford, noted that Aycock famously proclaimed “as a white man, I am afraid of but one thing for my race and that is we shall become afraid to give the Negro a fair chance. The white man in the South can never attain to his fullest growth until he does absolute justice to the Negro race.” This framing enabled Hodges, Sanford, and, later, Governor Dan Moore to define the “North Carolina way” in sharp contrast with the racially charged massive resistance rhetoric that defined the approaches of Alabama under George Wallace and Mississippi under Ross Barnett. This moderate course caused early observers like V. O. Key to view the state as “an inspiring exception to southern racism.” Crucially, it operated hand-in-hand with North Carolina’s anti-labor stance to advance the state’s economic interests. Hodges, Sanford, and Moore approached racial policy by emphasizing tranquility, and thus an intolerance for political contention. These officials placed a high value on law and order, condemning as “extremists” those who threatened North Carolina’s “harmonious” race relations by advocating either civil rights or staunch segregation. While racial distinctions could not be elided in the Jim Crow South, where the social fabric was shot through with racial disparity, an Aycock-style progressivist stance emphasized the maintenance of racial separation alongside white elites’ moral and civic interest in the well-being of black residents. This interest generally took the form of a pronounced paternalism, which typically enabled powerful white residents to serve as benefactors to their black neighbors, in a sort of patron-client relationship. “It was white people doing something for blacks—not with them,” explained Charlotte-based Reverend Colemon William Kerry Jr. While often framed as gestures of beneficence and closeness, such acts reproduced inequity and distance. More broadly, this racial order served dominant economic and political interests, as it preserved segregation with a progressive sheen that favored industrial expansion.12

If we are listening for the will of God, it behooves us to listen with our hearts, the marrow of our bones and our whole skin, as well as with our ears.

With its potential for testimony about predatory white men, their young Negro prey, a Hamilton Mobley and his sassy black mistress, and a black preacher telling it like it was, this would be a trial made in heaven for the likes of Du Bois, Wells-Barnett, and Baker, and one made in hell for Hadleys and Mobleys and their extended families.

Stella Cameron, New York Times bestselling author “The Girl Who Stayed defies type. Crosby’s tale is honest and sen- sitive, eerie and tragic. It’s a homecoming tale of a past ever with us and irrevocably lost forever. A haunting vision of that chasm between life and death we call ‘missing.’” – Pamela Morsi, bestselling author of Simple Jess “An intense, mesmerizing Southern drama about a young woman who returns to her coastal home to put to rest the haunting ghost of her sister’s tragic past. Told in the rich, lyrical style of Siddons and Conroy, The Girl Who Stayed is a woman’s story of discovery and acceptance, redefined by Tanya Anne Crosby’s dramatic storytelling, sharp characters, and well-defined plot. A must read for any woman who believes she can never go back home. Fabulous, rich and evocative!” – New York Times bestselling author Jill Barnett “Crosby tugs heartstrings in a spellbinding story of a woman trying to move beyond her past.” – New York Times bestselling

mesmerizing Southern drama about a young woman who returns to her coastal home to put to rest the haunting ghost of her sister’s tragic past. Told in the rich, lyrical style of Siddons and Conroy, The Girl Who Stayed is a woman’s story of discovery and acceptance, redefined by Tanya Anne Crosby’s dramatic storytelling, sharp characters, and well-defined plot. A must read for any woman who believes she can never go back home. Fabulous, rich and evocative!” – New York Times bestselling author Jill Barnett “Crosby tugs heartstrings in a spellbinding story of a woman trying to move beyond her past.” – New York Times bestselling

in this moment of orangutans, wolves, and scavengers, of high heat redesigning the north & south poles and the wanderings of new tribes in limousines, with the confirmations of liars, thieves, and get-over artists, in the wilderness of pennsylvania avenue, standing rock, misspelled executive orders on yellow paper with crooked signatures. where are the kind language makers among us? at a time of extreme climate damage, deciphering fake news, alternative truths, and me-ism you saw the twenty-first century and left us not on your own accord or permission. you have fought and fought most of the twentieth century creating an army of poets who learned and loved language and stories of complicated rivers, seas, and oceans. where is the kind green nourishment of kale and wheatgrass? you thought, wrote, and lived poetry, knew that terror is also language based on denial, first-ism, and rich cowards. you were honey and yes to us, never ran from Black as in bones, Africa, blood and questioning yesterdays and tomorrows. we never saw you dance but you had rhythm, you were a warrior before the war, creating earth language, uncommon signs and melodies, and did not sing the songs of career slaves. keenly aware of tubman, douglass, wells-barnett, du bois, and the oversized consciousness and commitment of never-quit people religiously taking note of the bloodlust enemies of kindness we hear your last words: america if you see me as your enemy you have no friends.

About 41 percent of mothers are primary breadwinners and earn the majority of their family’s income. Another 23 percent of mothers are co-breadwinners, contributing at least a quarter of the family’s earnings.30 The number of women supporting families on their own is increasing quickly; between 1973 and 2006, the proportion of families headed by a single mother grew from one in ten to one in five.31 These numbers are dramatically higher in Hispanic and African-American families. Twenty-seven percent of Latino children and 51 percent of African-American children are being raised by a single mother.32 Our country lags considerably behind others in efforts to help parents take care of their children and stay in the workforce. Of all the industrialized nations in the world, the United States is the only one without a paid maternity leave policy.33 As Ellen Bravo, director of the Family Values @ Work consortium, observed, most “women are not thinking about ‘having it all,’ they’re worried about losing it all—their jobs, their children’s health, their families’ financial stability—because of the regular conflicts that arise between being a good employee and a responsible parent.”34 For many men, the fundamental assumption is that they can have both a successful professional life and a fulfilling personal life. For many women, the assumption is that trying to do both is difficult at best and impossible at worst. Women are surrounded by headlines and stories warning them that they cannot be committed to both their families and careers. They are told over and over again that they have to choose, because if they try to do too much, they’ll be harried and unhappy. Framing the issue as “work-life balance”—as if the two were diametrically opposed—practically ensures work will lose out. Who would ever choose work over life? The good news is that not only can women have both families and careers, they can thrive while doing so. In 2009, Sharon Meers and Joanna Strober published Getting to 50/50, a comprehensive review of governmental, social science, and original research that led them to conclude that children, parents, and marriages can all flourish when both parents have full careers. The data plainly reveal that sharing financial and child-care responsibilities leads to less guilty moms, more involved dads, and thriving children.35 Professor Rosalind Chait Barnett of Brandeis University did a comprehensive review of studies on work-life balance and found that women who participate in multiple roles actually have lower levels of anxiety and higher levels of mental well-being.36 Employed women reap rewards including greater financial security, more stable marriages, better health, and, in general, increased life satisfaction.37 It may not be as dramatic or funny to make a movie about a woman who loves both her job and her family, but that would be a better reflection of reality. We need more portrayals of women as competent professionals and happy mothers—or even happy professionals and competent mothers. The current negative images may make us laugh, but they also make women unnecessarily fearful by presenting life’s challenges as insurmountable. Our culture remains baffled: I don’t know how she does it. Fear is at the root of so many of the barriers that women face. Fear of not being liked. Fear of making the wrong choice. Fear of drawing negative attention. Fear of overreaching. Fear of being judged. Fear of failure. And the holy trinity of fear: the fear of being a bad mother/wife/daughter.

While I would not claim that Muir’s “God” (or his “Mother Nature”) is neatly synonymous with China’s “Tao,” it seems clear that what Muir is getting at when he uses the various terms examined above is well within the variety of concepts that have been advanced to describe “the Tao

His words are strung impossibly tight.  As if he could come at any given moment.  “You like that, baby?” Well, I didn’t think so. But, yeah… I guess I do. I should be appalled at myself. I really should. Again he slaps my heated flesh.  Hitting my clit at just the perfect angle.  It’s as if he knows exactly where to strike to send the most delicious pleasure rippling through my body. “Sweetheart, I could slap that sweet little pussy of yours all night long, but I need to fuck you and you definitely need to be fucked.  Good and hard.

Well, if this place is going down, I’ll just go home. I have hours of Real Housewives DVRed that I have to catch up on.” Holli sounded almost bored at the idea of the top fashion magazine in the country going into a tailspin. Probably because no matter what happened, she would be fine. Holli didn’t have an ego about her job, and would just as happily do cleaning product commercials as high-fashion shoots. I often used her somewhat lackadaisical approach to her career to get some perspective on my own.

There’s your television—sixty inches of sexy plasma. There’s your Netflix, always ready to welcome you with some rewarmed sitcom laughter, and your stack of Blu-rays and your bookcase full of well-worn paperbacks. There’s Facebook and Snapchat and Instagram to keep you connected, to show you all the places you’ve yet to visit and people you’ve yet to meet. You’ve got a thousand worlds at your fingertips, a thousand lives, and before you know it, home is just the place you go to be somewhere else, someone else, until morning comes and your dreams end and you have to be you again.

When Wells-Barnett wrote in 1900, “It is now, even as it was in the days of slavery, an unpardonable sin for a Negro to resist a White man no matter how unjust or unprovoked the White man’s attack may be,” we might say that this still can be the case in certain situations and locales—especially if the White man is dressed in a blue uniform and wears a badge.

Miles didn’t move. This wasn’t part of the plan. “What is it?” said Barkin. “The plans to your next big prank?” Miles tried to look calm. “No,” said Miles. “Principal Barkin,” said Niles, “it’s just a party invitation!” “A party invitation?” Principal Barkin’s nostrils flared. Niles put his hand over his mouth and directed a loud whisper toward Miles. “It’s fine. Show it to him.” Miles had no choice now. He gave up the invitation. Principal Barkin slowly put on a pair of reading glasses and peered at the paper. “Interesting. Very interesting. Cody Burr-Tyler, eh?” He snapped his gaze back to Miles. “Well, well, well,” he said. “Well, well, well.” Barkin folded the invitation and put it in his shirt pocket. “Well.” “Well?” said Miles. Principal Barkin stared at Miles for four whole seconds. Then he pointed to a sign on the wall. Miles exhaled. He turned, feeling flustered, and walked down the hallway in the wrong direction. Niles called after him. “No, it’s this way, Miles! We need to go this way!” Miles turned around and followed Niles toward Room 22. “Miles!” Principal Barkin shouted after him. “Remember: I’m on to you.” Barkin pointed at another sign on the wall. This sign hadn’t been there

Those who commit the murders write the reports

The next morning the newspapers carried the news that while our meeting was being held there had been staged in Paris, Texas, one of the most awful lynchings and burnings this country has ever witnessed. A Negro had been charged with ravishing and murdering a five-year-old girl. He had been arrested and imprisoned while preparations were made to burn him alive. The local papers issued bulletins detailing the preparations, the schoolchildren had been given a holiday to see a man burned alive, and the railroads ran excursions and brought people of the surrounding country to witness the event, which was in broad daylight with the authorities aiding and abetting this horror. The dispatches told in detail how he had been tortured with red-hot irons searing his flesh for hours before finally the flames were lit which put an end to his agony. They also told how the mob fought over the hot ashes for bones, buttons, and teeth for souvenirs.

There are some aches witch hazel can't assuage; for those, we need each other. My mother and Hazel Barnett, unlikely sisters, I suppose, learned well from the plants they both loved - they made a balm for loneliness together, a strengthening tea for the pain of longing.

Haiti as an independent republic accepted the invitation extended to her along with other nations, and erected a building on the World's Fair grounds. She placed Frederick Douglass in charge of this building to represent the Haitian government. Mr. Douglass had been sent as minister to Haiti from this country a few years before this, and had so won the confidence of this little black republic that it in turn gave him the honor of being in charge of their exhibit. Had it not been for this, Negroes of the United States would have had no part nor lot in any official way in the World's Fair. For the United States government had refused her Negro citizens participation therein.

South Carolina had thirteen lynchings last year, ten were charged with assault on white women, one with horse stealing and two with being impudent to white women. The first of the ten charged with rape, named John Peterson, was declared by the white woman in the case to be the wrong man, but the mob said a crime had been committed and somebody had to hang for it. So John Peterson, being the available ‘somebody,’ was hanged. At Columbia, South Carolina, July 30th, a similar charge was made, and three Negroes were hanged one after another because they said they wanted to be sure they got the right one.

How assertive can you be with the landlord when he refuses to fix the dishwasher, knowing that he’s disliked you, with some justification, for most of the six and a half years you’ve lived in the place, but that you’re also well within your right to complain?

The data plainly reveal that sharing financial and child-care responsibilities leads to less guilty moms, more involved dads, and thriving children.35 Professor Rosalind Chait Barnett of Brandeis University did a comprehensive review of studies on work-life balance and found that women who participate in multiple roles actually have lower levels of anxiety and higher levels of mental well-being.36 Employed women reap rewards including greater financial security, more stable marriages, better health, and, in general, increased life satisfaction.37

So where are you going to take Constable Sanders out, then?” Pool stopped laughing. “I’m not sure, sir.” “Well, you better think fast; the whole station’s already talking about it. People want to know.

Negro, and also that which was used to lead him from the jail, were eagerly sought by relic hunters. They almost fought for a chance to cut off a piece of rope, and in an incredibly short time both ropes had disappeared and were scattered in the pockets of the crowd in sections of from an inch to six inches long. Others of the relic hunters remained until the ashes cooled to obtain such ghastly relics as the teeth, nails, and bits of charred skin of the immolated victim of his own lust.

I also found that what the white man of the South practiced for himself, he assumed to be unthinkable in white women. They could and did fall in love with the pretty mulatto and quadroon girls as well as black ones, but they professed an inability to imagine white women doing the same thing with Negro and mulatto men. Whenever they did so and were found out, the cry of rape was raised, and the lowest element of the white South was turned loose to wreak its fiendish cruelty on those too weak to help themselves.

And you propose to remain here until everyone is back up and raiding? Is that it?” She grew angry at his condescending manner. “I propose that I remain here and help the sick. You can go wherever you like, but I’d prefer it be back to the ranch so that at least my family won’t worry about my safety.” William stepped closer. “Shouldn’t you have considered that before gallivanting off with a Comanche for parts unknown?” She put her hands on her hips. “Will you take a message back to the ranch?” He shook his head. “I’m staying if you’re staying.” He was only inches away and Hannah couldn’t help but notice the small scar on the right side of his jaw. She found herself wondering why she hadn’t seen it before. What had caused it? It was only an inch or so long and rather faint. Perhaps it had happened when he was young and over the years time had faded the reminder. “Well?” Hannah realized with much embarrassment that she’d been staring at William’s face. Shaking off her thoughts, she turned to walk away. “I will ask Red Dog to take the message.” “And where will you get the paper and pen for such a message?” She glanced over her shoulder and kept walking. “I have a pencil and paper, Mr. Barnett. I’m not the complete idiot you believe me to be.

But the expense worksheets—these are the work papers the accountants generate from the actual receipts, bank statements, that sort of thing—for last year’s tax return shows Barnett paid for six hundred twenty-five tanker trucks to deliver frack fluid to well number three-twenty-four on November seventeenth.

Wells-Barnett’s experience with the ways that lynching victims were criminalized, and her progressive belief in the ability of persons to change for the better, gave her another perspective.

Du Bois spoke about the relationship of black disenfranchisement to cheap surplus labor in the South; Celia Parker Woolley delineated the relationship between race, women’s rights, and labor. Wells-Barnett began her talk by enumerating the 3,284 men, women, and children who had been lynched since Reconstruction, and she illustrated the relationship between lynching and the lack of citizenship rights.

Is RECON another acronym?” asked Mudflap. (RECON is not an acronym. It’s short for reconnaissance, because reconnaissance is a tough word to spell correctly.) “Um,” said Josh. “Yes. Yes, RECON is an acronym. Now—” “What does it stand for?” asked Splinters. Josh sighed. “Well . . . it . . . stands for . . .” Josh stared at the ceiling of his barracks. He felt instinctively that this was an important test of his leadership. Josh firmly believed that good leaders never admit when they don’t know something. And the fact was, Josh didn’t know what this acronym stood for. (Again, it wasn’t an acronym.) He began to blush a pale plum color. This was a tough spot. What could he do? “RECON stands for . . . Really . . .” He was off to a good start! “Enormous . . . Counterstrike . . .” O. O. O. “On . . .” Aha! Josh was almost there. He screwed up his eyes and willed all his blood to his brain. Josh’s face darkened and became the shade of a turnip. Just one letter left! His eyes lit up. The word came to him like a gift from his ancestors, inscribed in his mind with the ballpoint pen of principals past. “NIMBUSES!

Sometimes, we want to love a person more than they deserve to be loved by us. And we’ll do a lot of rationalizing to fool ourselves into believing that they deserve it.