Strange Fruit
Three nooses hanging from what had been a “whites only” tree at a schoolyard in Jena, LA. The School Superintendent described it as a prank.
A noose hung outside a Black Cultural Center at the University of Maryland.
A noose found in the locker room of the Hempstead, NY. Police Department, where the Deputy Chief is a Black American.
Back to the ‘50’s?
Not quite. The three instances quoted above happened in 2006 and 2007.
Back to the ‘50’s?
Not quite. The last “officially reported” lynching took place in 1968. That’s if you discount the 1998 slaying of James Byrd.
Nooses are never pranks. They are icons of Americans’ widespread decision to be racist.
Read again this 1939 song, made famous/infamous by Billie Holiday.
Abel Meeropol, Strange Fruit.
Southern trees bear a strange fruit,
Blood on the leaves and blood at the root,
Black body swinging in the Southern breeze,
Strange fruit hanging from the poplar trees.
Pastoral scene of the gallant South,
The bulging eyes and the twisted mouth,
Scent of magnolia sweet and fresh,
And the sudden smell of burning flesh!
Here is a fruit for the crows to pluck,
For the rain to gather, for the wind to suck,
For the sun to rot, for a tree to drop,
Here is a strange and bitter crop.
A noose hung outside a Black Cultural Center at the University of Maryland.
A noose found in the locker room of the Hempstead, NY. Police Department, where the Deputy Chief is a Black American.
Back to the ‘50’s?
Not quite. The three instances quoted above happened in 2006 and 2007.
Back to the ‘50’s?
Not quite. The last “officially reported” lynching took place in 1968. That’s if you discount the 1998 slaying of James Byrd.
Nooses are never pranks. They are icons of Americans’ widespread decision to be racist.
Read again this 1939 song, made famous/infamous by Billie Holiday.
Abel Meeropol, Strange Fruit.
Southern trees bear a strange fruit,
Blood on the leaves and blood at the root,
Black body swinging in the Southern breeze,
Strange fruit hanging from the poplar trees.
Pastoral scene of the gallant South,
The bulging eyes and the twisted mouth,
Scent of magnolia sweet and fresh,
And the sudden smell of burning flesh!
Here is a fruit for the crows to pluck,
For the rain to gather, for the wind to suck,
For the sun to rot, for a tree to drop,
Here is a strange and bitter crop.
I posted on this same concern and observation on my blog -- Electronic Village.
ReplyDeleteThis is my first time visiting your blog. I hope to come back.
Lisa introduced me to that song not long after we met. She also let me in on the fact that the Meeropols adopted the Rosenberg children after their parents were executed. I find it so interesting that a Jew wrote that song about the holocaust that Blacks faced (still face, though there has been improvement) in this country, given the difficulties that have often arisen between the Black and Jewish communities. It's apropos, really, as both have suffered similar discrimination. Thanks for reminding me of this song.
ReplyDeleteOh yes,
ReplyDeleteI was commenting to my friend, Tashia, who now lives in DC, that nothing has really changed that much in the South.
Here's the latest 'lynch' story:
A family in LaGrange Georgia thought it would be 'cute' to put up a makeshift "gallows" with three nooses. Inside the nooses, hangs three "scarecrows."
Their house is on a main street in LaGrange, and the family could not understand why many of the blacks in the community had such outrage over the "Halloween decoration."
Unreal.
I am, at times, very embarrassed that I live in the south.
There is a book about how "Strange Fruit" came to be. It's fantastic.
It seems, at first, Billie Holiday didn't really understand the meaning of the song at all.
Lisa