New York’s American Museum of Natural History in the late 1960s launched the exhibit Man in Africa. It included an expansive display of tribal shields, one of which depicted opposition without hostility. I was there. In those years the U.S. was dealing with lots of hostility.
I had just moved from a bucolic parish to a decaying one, Fitchburg, where I wanted to have a crack at urban problems. Among the many issues depressing the city, a new one appeared soon after I arrived: nearby Fort Devens was planning to close. One didn’t have to be a sociologist to realize that this would impact the lives of many civilians who worked in and around the fort.
Fitchburg had an elementary school teacher, a Black woman, renowned for creating a learning frenzy among her students with the aid of the World Book Encyclopedia. Reading improved dramatically. As the city celebrated her, many hoped their kids would be in her class. Essie Mae Jackson was her name, and I learned she was married to a retired Army staff sergeant.
Because of parish priorities, I didn’t get to meet her for almost a year, but when I talked my congregation into sponsoring an Afro-American Today festival, Mrs. Jackson was someone I needed to meet. Black families in the area were practically invisible.
After I met her I asked her to accompany me and two ecumenically minded nuns from a local convent to visit the Man in Africa exhibit. The nuns received their mother superior’s permission. Mrs. Jackson lept at the opportunity.
So off we went on a Friday afternoon. The nuns would stay at a chapter house in Manhattan. I arranged with a colleague nearby in New Jersey for parish accommodations for Mrs Jackson and myself.
Our first stop was for supper at a Howard Johnson’s in Norwich, Connecticut. While escorted to a table in the crowded restaurant, the loud hubbub ceased, silence reigned. What was so remarkable about a black woman in her fur coat, followed by two nuns in black with large starched habits, and a young, skinney white guy in a suit and overcoat coming for supper together? A time for learning, perhaps. That we carried on throughout supper in animated conversation was noticed by many patrons (and we tipped the server for sitting at her table so long). After a night with our hosts we regrouped and headed for Man in Africa.
The museum had made a big splash with the exhibit. Among the details of life among the tribes was that extensive display of tribal shields with written details about their designs. I was arrested by that legend on one, described as “opposition without hostility.” We spent the entire day in the exhibit (now called People in Africa).
The next morning we had been scheduled by my colleague to attend a class of women at Fairleigh-Dickinson College. Upon arriving we felt unwelcome. The Black students had had enough of white people, nuns included, and they treated Mrs. Jackson with disdain. One of them asked forcefully, “What does your husband do?”
Mrs. Jackson replied in a clear voice “He loves me.”
Soon, we all felt accepted as the angry students began asking very important questions.
Only one shield in Man in Africa expressed the slogan above. What if other tribes didn’t share that commitment? Hostility, as we’ve learned over many decades, is a terrible stance. During and since World War II, I’ve heard lots of warriors express no hostility toward our enemies. They just want to stop them from shooting at us. Unfortunately, too many of our countrymen are hostile.
Bob Brodsky writes from Rowley.