A Death in the Family
by Kevin Alexander Gray
MARCH 30, 2009 TAGS:
From the moment word broke of John Hope Franklin’s passing, we started calling around, spreading the word as if a family member had just died. Our griot had crossed over. In West African societies, the griot kept and told the oral history of the village or tribe, and so helped the people know who they were. That was Franklin’s service to us.
Friends and family called him John Hope. The rest of us called him Dr. Franklin. Generations of black activists, scholars, historians, politicians and those who appreciate history revere Dr. Franklin. In the homes of most educated (or conscious) blacks you’ll find three standard items - the Bible, a picture of Martin Luther King, and a copy of Dr. Franklin’s seminal work, From Slavery to Freedom: A History of African-Americans.
Anyone who takes an African American history course in high school or college is usually required to have Franklin’s book. Certainly there are whites who have a copy or have read some of his work. But I’d be willing to bet that a significant number of black students who bought the book in college still have it. I’ve had mine since the ’70s.
Rev. Jesse L. Jackson Sr. called Franklin, “the preeminent voice and witness for America’s sojourn from slavery to freedom.” He’s right, but doesn’t go far enough: Dr. Franklin was (and still is) our preeminent teacher. Even today, his work reaches and affects millions. For blacks, his work forms the the base of our knowledge of who we are. That's no small thing.
To me, Franklin was just as significant -- if not more so -- than Rosa Parks. First of all, she and many others were educated or historically informed by Franklin’s work. Second, he chronicled Parks' deed (and many others) in the context of a broader struggle and a connected history for the rest of us.
He insisted that our story is greater than one person’s refusing to give up a seat on a bus to a white person. He showed us that the struggle for rights didn’t happen just in Montgomery or Selma or Birmingham; it galvanized everyday folks across the country. Franklin often spoke of the “cult of personality” that diminished the contributions of so many people whose names we don’t celebrate. His job was to tell the whole story.
Because of Franklin, we know that the movement for change didn’t spring up when Martin Luther King appeared on the scene. It started before Crispus Attucks and Cinque. Franklin knew we’d need to know that.
The week before Franklin passed, a young actress tragically lost her life in a skiing accident. In the days that followed countless stories recounted her life, and Broadway dimmed its lights in her honor. On the day Franklin died, I was struck by the obligatory notice his death was given, particularly in the electronic media.
I’m not claiming his passing didn’t get national notice, although the Obama White House did little to mark the significance of the moment. Most of the news reports gave Franklin his due in the allotted 2-5 minutes. And for those really interested, of course, Franklin’s biography is widely available. I’m also not trying to diminish the pain felt by the actress’s family or the appropriateness of her tributes. She was 45 and he was 94. Yet the differing coverage of the two deaths proves the importance of Franklin’s work. He told the stories that were told nowhere else.
One article I ran across on Franklin said: “He is perhaps best known to the public for his work on President Clinton's 1997 task force on race. But his reputation as a scholar was made in 1947” and that From Slavery to Freedom was “still considered the definitive account of the black experience in America.”
Think about it: to cast working with Bill Clinton above writing “the definitive account of the black experience in America.” It’s such small actions - not intended as slights perhaps - that place the black experience in the shadow of our relationship to whites. What went unmentioned was that Franklin supported reparations over empty apologies, much to the establishment’s consternation.
As the adage goes, “History is written by the winners.” Before From Slavery to Freedom, blacks were an appendage in the history book of “the winners,” cast all too often as “the losers.” Black struggle, progress and lives were invisible until whites wanted to see them. And even when the story of blacks were told by a white, too often it contained what whites thought blacks felt.
Franklin showed blacks to be winners, with their own history of fighting to overcome second-class status and the pain, struggle and glory that went with it. In his work, our people told their own stories.
The nation owes a huge debt to John Hope Franklin. Rest in peace, honored griot.
Homepage image by Simmie Cox
Kevin Alexander Gray is a civil rights activist and author based in Columbia, S.C.
Friends and family called him John Hope. The rest of us called him Dr. Franklin. Generations of black activists, scholars, historians, politicians and those who appreciate history revere Dr. Franklin. In the homes of most educated (or conscious) blacks you’ll find three standard items - the Bible, a picture of Martin Luther King, and a copy of Dr. Franklin’s seminal work, From Slavery to Freedom: A History of African-Americans.Anyone who takes an African American history course in high school or college is usually required to have Franklin’s book. Certainly there are whites who have a copy or have read some of his work. But I’d be willing to bet that a significant number of black students who bought the book in college still have it. I’ve had mine since the ’70s.
Rev. Jesse L. Jackson Sr. called Franklin, “the preeminent voice and witness for America’s sojourn from slavery to freedom.” He’s right, but doesn’t go far enough: Dr. Franklin was (and still is) our preeminent teacher. Even today, his work reaches and affects millions. For blacks, his work forms the the base of our knowledge of who we are. That's no small thing.
To me, Franklin was just as significant -- if not more so -- than Rosa Parks. First of all, she and many others were educated or historically informed by Franklin’s work. Second, he chronicled Parks' deed (and many others) in the context of a broader struggle and a connected history for the rest of us.
He insisted that our story is greater than one person’s refusing to give up a seat on a bus to a white person. He showed us that the struggle for rights didn’t happen just in Montgomery or Selma or Birmingham; it galvanized everyday folks across the country. Franklin often spoke of the “cult of personality” that diminished the contributions of so many people whose names we don’t celebrate. His job was to tell the whole story.
Because of Franklin, we know that the movement for change didn’t spring up when Martin Luther King appeared on the scene. It started before Crispus Attucks and Cinque. Franklin knew we’d need to know that.
The week before Franklin passed, a young actress tragically lost her life in a skiing accident. In the days that followed countless stories recounted her life, and Broadway dimmed its lights in her honor. On the day Franklin died, I was struck by the obligatory notice his death was given, particularly in the electronic media.
I’m not claiming his passing didn’t get national notice, although the Obama White House did little to mark the significance of the moment. Most of the news reports gave Franklin his due in the allotted 2-5 minutes. And for those really interested, of course, Franklin’s biography is widely available. I’m also not trying to diminish the pain felt by the actress’s family or the appropriateness of her tributes. She was 45 and he was 94. Yet the differing coverage of the two deaths proves the importance of Franklin’s work. He told the stories that were told nowhere else.
One article I ran across on Franklin said: “He is perhaps best known to the public for his work on President Clinton's 1997 task force on race. But his reputation as a scholar was made in 1947” and that From Slavery to Freedom was “still considered the definitive account of the black experience in America.” Think about it: to cast working with Bill Clinton above writing “the definitive account of the black experience in America.” It’s such small actions - not intended as slights perhaps - that place the black experience in the shadow of our relationship to whites. What went unmentioned was that Franklin supported reparations over empty apologies, much to the establishment’s consternation.
As the adage goes, “History is written by the winners.” Before From Slavery to Freedom, blacks were an appendage in the history book of “the winners,” cast all too often as “the losers.” Black struggle, progress and lives were invisible until whites wanted to see them. And even when the story of blacks were told by a white, too often it contained what whites thought blacks felt.
Franklin showed blacks to be winners, with their own history of fighting to overcome second-class status and the pain, struggle and glory that went with it. In his work, our people told their own stories.
The nation owes a huge debt to John Hope Franklin. Rest in peace, honored griot.
Homepage image by Simmie Cox
Kevin Alexander Gray is a civil rights activist and author based in Columbia, S.C.
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