A Voice from the South / by a Black Woman of the South

The Project Gutenberg EBook of A Voice from the South., by Anna Julia Cooper This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. Title: A Voice from the South. By a Black Woman of the South. Author: Anna Julia Cooper Release Date: April 2, 2020 [EBook #61741] Language: English *** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A VOICE FROM THE SOUTH. *** Produced by Richard Tonsing, Mary Glenn Krause, amsibert and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.) Transcriber’s Note: The cover image was created by the transcriber and is placed in the public domain. Yours sincerely A. J. Cooper. A VOICE FROM THE SOUTH. BY A BLACK WOMAN OF THE SOUTH. XENIA, OHIO: THE ALDINE PRINTING HOUSE. 1892. COPYRIGHT 1892 BY ANNA JULIA COOPER. A VOICE FROM THE SOUTH. “WITH REGRET I FORGET IF THE SONG BE LIVING YET, YET REMEMBER, VAGUELY NOW, IT WAS HONEST, ANYHOW.” TO BISHOP BENJAMIN WILLIAM ARNETT, WITH PROFOUND REGARD FOR HIS HEROIC DEVOTION TO GOD AND THE RACE, both in Church and in State,—and with sincere esteem for his unselfish espousal of the cause of the Black Woman and of every human interest that lacks a Voice and needs a Defender, this, the primary utterance of my heart and pen, IS AFFECTIONATELY INSCRIBED. CONTENTS. PART FIRST. SOPRANO OBLIGATO. WOMANHOOD A VITAL ELEMENT IN THE REGENERATION AND PROGRESS OF A RACE 9 THE HIGHER EDUCATION OF WOMAN 48 “WOMAN VS. THE INDIAN” 80 THE STATUS OF WOMAN IN AMERICA 127 PART SECOND. TUTTI AD LIBITUM. HAS AMERICA A RACE PROBLEM; IF SO, HOW CAN IT BEST BE SOLVED? 149 THE NEGRO AS PRESENTED IN AMERICAN LITERATURE 175 WHAT ARE WE WORTH? 228 THE GAIN FROM A BELIEF 286 OUR RAISON D’ÊTRE. In the clash and clatter of our American Conflict, it has been said that the South remains Silent. Like the Sphinx she inspires vociferous disputation, but herself takes little part in the noisy controversy. One muffled strain in the Silent South, a jarring chord and a vague and uncomprehended cadenza has been and still is the Negro. And of that muffled chord, the one mute and voiceless note has been the sadly expectant Black Woman, An infant crying in the night, An infant crying for the light; And with no language—but a cry. The colored man’s inheritance and apportionment is still the sombre crux, the perplexing cul de sac of the nation,— the dumb skeleton in the closet provoking ceaseless harangues, indeed, but little understood and seldom consulted. Attorneys for the plaintiff and attorneys for the defendant, with bungling gaucherie have analyzed and dissected, theorized and synthesized with sublime ignorance or pathetic misapprehension of counsel from the black client. One important witness has not yet been heard from. The summing up of the evidence deposed, and the charge to the jury have been made—but no word from the Black Woman. It is because I believe the American people to be conscientiously committed to a fair trial and ungarbled evidence, and because I feel it essential to a perfect understanding and an equitable verdict that truth from each standpoint be presented at the bar,—that this little Voice has been added to the already full chorus. The “other side” has not been represented by one who “lives there.” And not many can more sensibly realize and more accurately tell the weight and the fret of the “long dull pain” than the open-eyed but hitherto voiceless Black Woman of America. The feverish agitation, the perfervid energy, the busy objectivity of the more turbulent life of our men serves, it may be, at once to cloud or color their vision somewhat, and as well to relieve the smart and deaden the pain for them. Their voice is in consequence not always temperate and calm, and at the same time radically corrective and sanatory. At any rate, as our Caucasian barristers are not to blame if they cannot quite put themselves in the dark man’s place, neither should the dark man be wholly expected fully and adequately to reproduce the exact Voice of the Black Woman. Delicately sensitive at every pore to social atmospheric conditions, her calorimeter may well be studied in the interest of accuracy and fairness in diagnosing what is often conceded to be a “puzzling” case. If these broken utterances can in any way help to a clearer vision and a truer pulse-beat in studying our Nation’s Problem, this Voice by a Black Woman of the South will not have been raised in vain. TAWAWA CHIMNEY CORNER; SEPT. 17, 1892. SOPRANO OBLIGATO. For they the Royal-hearted Women are Who nobly love the noblest, yet have grace For needy, suffering lives in lowliest place; Carrying a choicer sunlight in their smile, The heavenliest ray that pitieth the vile. Though I were happy, throned beside the king, I should be tender to each little thing With hurt warm breast, that had no speech to tell Its inward pangs; and I would soothe it well With tender touch and with a low, soft moan For company. —George Eliot. [1]WOMANHOOD A VITAL ELEMENT IN THE REGENERATION AND PROGRESS OF A RACE. The two sources from which, perhaps, modern civilization has derived its noble and ennobling ideal of woman are Christianity and the Feudal System. 1. Read before the convocation of colored clergy of the Protestant Episcopal Church at Washington, D. C., 1886. In Oriental countries woman has been uniformly devoted to a life of ignorance, infamy, and complete stagnation. The Chinese shoe of to-day does not more entirely dwarf, cramp, and destroy her physical powers, than have the customs, laws, and social instincts, which from remotest ages have governed our Sister of the East, enervated and blighted her mental and moral life. Mahomet makes no account of woman whatever in his polity. The Koran, which, unlike our Bible, was a product and not a growth, tried to address itself to the needs of Arabian civilization as Mahomet with his circumscribed powers saw them. The Arab was a nomad. Home to him meant his present camping place. That deity who, according to our western ideals, makes and sanctifies the home, was to him a transient bauble to be toyed with so long as it gave pleasure and then to be thrown aside for a new one. As a personality, an individual soul, capable of eternal growth and unlimited development, and destined to mould and shape the civilization of the future to an incalculable extent, Mahomet did not know woman. There was no hereafter, no paradise for her. The heaven of the Mussulman is peopled and made gladsome not by the departed wife, or sister, or mother, but by houri—a figment of Mahomet’s brain, partaking of the ethereal qualities of angels, yet imbued with all the vices and inanity of Oriental women. The harem here, and—“dust to dust” hereafter, this was the hope, the inspiration, the summum bonum of the Eastern woman’s life! With what result on the life of the nation, the “Unspeakable Turk,” the “sick man” of modern Europe can to-day exemplify. Says a certain writer: “The private life of the Turk is vilest of the vile, unprogressive, unambitious, and inconceivably low.” And yet Turkey is not without her great men. She has produced most brilliant minds; men skilled in all the intricacies of diplomacy and statesmanship; men whose intellects could grapple with the deep problems of empire and manipulate the subtle agencies which check- mate kings. But these minds were not the normal outgrowth of a healthy trunk. They seemed rather ephemeral excrescencies which shoot far out with all the vigor and promise, apparently, of strong branches; but soon alas fall into decay and ugliness because there is no soundness in the root, no life-giving sap, permeating, strengthening and perpetuating the whole. There is a worm at the core! The homelife is impure! and when we look for fruit, like apples of Sodom, it crumbles within our grasp into dust and ashes. It is pleasing to turn from this effete and immobile civilization to a society still fresh and vigorous, whose seed is in itself, and whose very name is synonymous with all that is progressive, elevating and inspiring, viz., the European bud and the American flower of modern civilization. And here let me say parenthetically that our satisfaction in American institutions rests not on the fruition we now enjoy, but springs rather from the possibilities and promise that are inherent in the system, though as yet, perhaps, far in the future. “Happiness,” says Madame de Stael, “consists not in perfections attained, but in a sense of progress, the result of our own endeavor under conspiring circumstances toward a goal which continually advances and broadens and deepens till it is swallowed up in the Infinite.” Such conditions in embryo are all that we claim for the land of the West. We have not yet reached our ideal in American civilization. The pessimists even declare that we are not marching in that direction.

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