Chapter 57
The Feeling of Being Misunderstood
"Have I done all that I can for the abused slave?" pondered William C. William C. and Charles Langston were walking side by side on the way to the African Meeting House. The agenda for the evening meeting was The Crusade for a Colored Lawyer -- James Moore Scott. So, many assumptions and premises infused in that purpose.
"I think one day it might come to arming the slaves and waging a revolt like in Haiti. It is clear no compromise must be made with an oppressive system," positioned Charles.
"I couldn't agree more. What I worry about are the little ways I am allied with slavery here on Beacon Hill. Every day, I wish I could do more," reflected William C.
"What do you mean?"
"Consider the shoes on my feet and the clothes on my back. My father purchased these items for me to wear. Suppose I tracked the dollars used to clothe my back and cover my feet? Suppose I discovered these dollars were slave dollars from South Carolina? By accepting these benefits traceable to slavery through my grandmother Cooper, have I enabled slavery? Have I closed my eyes to complicity because I pretend slave dollars magically lose their taint when in the coffers of a colored abolitionist?" William C. slowed as he talked and looked up as he drew out more and more uncomfortable connections to the peculiar institution.
"I haven't thought of it that way before. You're only responsible for you. You cannot be responsible for the actions of your father. And you certainly shouldn't lose sleep over the actions of a grandmother," relied Charles.
William C. stopped walking. He turned and exclaimed with deep fervor: "Slavery survives because northerners look the other way." He paused as if to push the idea further because the logic compelled him to do so. "And when I eat brown bread paid for with slave dollars minted in a slave state, haven't I satisfied my appetite with the profits of a slave system?
Charles attempted to draw a line of reason and common sense. "As long as we have one country and one currency, slave dollars will become free dollars and free dollars will become slave dollars. I see no way around it." A couple of white and colored youngsters ran past swept up in a game of hide and seek. "We do what we can do. We protect the fugitive from kidnapping and serve jail time if we must. We turn our basements and cellars and attics into Underground Railroad stations. We support The Liberator with our patronage and seek the removal of Senator Lynch. In these ways, we do the best that we can with what we have."
"But we can do more, much more! Consider the meeting this evening. Why are we going? Why are we going to attend? Because of group sentiment. Because of feel good group emotion. Logic and dispassion suggests a colored lawyer would only legitimize and bolster a slave document, the U.S. Constitution. I've argued we're investing our hopes and dreams in a hollow victory that will only embolden the friends of slavery. James doesn't listen to me anymore. My parents feel I'm on a quixotic quest like Don Quixote. And even Garrison is becoming weary of my stance.”
William C. stopped in his tracks.
"What are you doing?" asked Charles Langston.
"I'm not going to the meeting. I'm tired of being misunderstood."
Charles shook his head as William C. turned away and walked home.