Speaker 1: Cool Zone Media. Hello and welcome to Cool Zone Media
Speaker 1: book Club. The only book club where you don't have
Speaker 1: to do the reading is I do it for you.
Speaker 1: I'm your host, Margaret Kiljoy and today this week we
Speaker 1: are continuing our loose Black August theme. We like to
Speaker 1: be loose with themes because it gives us a little
Speaker 1: bit more freedom Black August as if you want to
Speaker 1: hear me and Prince Shakur talk about it more at length,
Speaker 1: go back a couple episodes to the beginning of August
Speaker 1: twenty twenty six and you can hear us talk about it.
Speaker 1: But in general black liberation. Prisoners should be liberated as
Speaker 1: part of black liberation. And our theme is loose this
Speaker 1: week because, to be honest, we had a bunch of
Speaker 1: leads out for stories that we still have out. But
Speaker 1: it actually it takes a while to track down authors
Speaker 1: and get all the permissions and do everything right, and
Speaker 1: so sometimes we end up doing old stories. And if
Speaker 1: I'm telling you the truth, when we started off doing
Speaker 1: old stories, it was because I didn't have anything else.
Speaker 1: I was like, oh crap, what can I do without
Speaker 1: getting permission in time? And the answer is old stories.
Speaker 1: The answer is the public domain. But the thing is,
Speaker 1: I read history all the time. I do it for
Speaker 1: a living, and I actually really enjoy getting the chance
Speaker 1: to read old fiction because it helps me understand the
Speaker 1: history that I read. I think that fiction and literature
Speaker 1: are just such an important thing to understand about periods
Speaker 1: that we want to understand better, not just because fiction
Speaker 1: doesn't just tell you how people acted in the time
Speaker 1: period that it's being written, but it also tells you
Speaker 1: about the author and what an author, like an actual
Speaker 1: real person, was thinking about and wanted to express in
Speaker 1: a given time. And actually it tells us so much.
Speaker 1: So I'm actually really excited about this story. I'm excited
Speaker 1: to read you another story from W. E. B. Du Bois,
Speaker 1: And we did a story of his called The Comet
Speaker 1: earlier this year. You might remember it. It was about
Speaker 1: two people who have survived what seemed like the end
Speaker 1: of the world in New York City, a black man
Speaker 1: and a white woman, and they're trying to figure that out.
Speaker 1: And I was really excited to read du bois stories
Speaker 1: because I run across to boys in my history work
Speaker 1: all of the time. He is one of the most
Speaker 1: important black theorists from the turn of the century a
Speaker 1: foundational thinker that so many people's work is based on,
Speaker 1: and also kind of most specifically to me, the thing
Speaker 1: that he really changed my understanding about the world with
Speaker 1: is his conception of the general strike that happened during
Speaker 1: the American Civil War and how what won the American
Speaker 1: Civil War war was black enslaved people withholding their labor
Speaker 1: from the South and turning their entire agricultural economy to dust.
Speaker 1: And that's how you win wars. Is Battlefield victories are
Speaker 1: great and they're important, but removing your opponent's ability to
Speaker 1: feed itself and create weapons is the actual way that
Speaker 1: most wars get won. And so instead of this version
Speaker 1: of the American Civil War where like good white people
Speaker 1: came and saved the people the enslaved people of the South,
Speaker 1: an actual narrative is that the enslaved people freed themselves
Speaker 1: with incredible help from northerners, white and black. But it's
Speaker 1: just a really important way of thinking about things, and
Speaker 1: that's what du Bois has done for us. So I'm
Speaker 1: excited to read his fiction. Dubois was one of the
Speaker 1: founders of the NAACP was the longtime editor of its newspaper,
Speaker 1: The Crisis which is a fantastic name for a paper.
Speaker 1: And the story we're going to read today is more
Speaker 1: on the intent side. Like its name suggests, this story
Speaker 1: is about Jesus Christ in Texas, but it's also about
Speaker 1: the chain gangs and the prison system and the post
Speaker 1: bellum South and the turn of the century South. It's
Speaker 1: also about lynching, and it's about some of the more
Speaker 1: mundane racism and exclusion that black folk can racialize folks
Speaker 1: deal with in contemporary du Bois's time. So you know, again,
Speaker 1: content warning for that kind of stuff. And of course
Speaker 1: when the editor bleeps out the N word, I'm not
Speaker 1: actually saying the word. Just want to clear that up
Speaker 1: for everybody. Like the story of the comment, this story
Speaker 1: is full of religious imagery, and it's worth noting that
Speaker 1: Dubois himself was not particularly religious, but instead as pulling
Speaker 1: from the broader tropes around salvation, goodness, sacrifice, and transcendence
Speaker 1: that would have been available to him at this time.
Speaker 1: And of course the long and complicated history of the
Speaker 1: Black church and black liberation, which looks very different than
Speaker 1: white leftism. It just looks different. It's not entirely different,
Speaker 1: but it just looks very different, right, and so when
Speaker 1: you're listening, just note that this is less evangelicizing and
Speaker 1: listen more for the meaning behind how Dubois is describing
Speaker 1: Jesus and using him for a literary shorthand. And this
Speaker 1: story does u's language that would have been familiar to
Speaker 1: du Bois in his community, but feel stated today. The
Speaker 1: original text also contains racial slurs for effect, and these
Speaker 1: have been bleeped out. Here we go Jesus Christ in
Speaker 1: Texas by W. E. B. Du Bois. It was in Waco, Texas.
Speaker 1: The convict guard laughed. I don't know, he said, I
Speaker 1: hadn't thought of that. He hesitated and looked at the
Speaker 1: stranger curiously in the solemn twilight. He got an impression
Speaker 1: of unusual height and soft, dark eye. Curious sort of
Speaker 1: acquaintance for the colonel, he thought. And then he continued aloud,
Speaker 1: but that there is bad, a born thief, and ought
Speaker 1: to be sent up for life. Got ten years. Last time. Here,
Speaker 1: the voice of the promoter talking within broke in. He
Speaker 1: was bending over his figures, sitting by the colonel. He
Speaker 1: was slight, with a sharp nose. The convicts, he said,
Speaker 1: would cost us ninety six dollars a year, and bored. Well,
Speaker 1: we can squeeze this so that it won't be over
Speaker 1: one hundred and twenty five dollars apiece. Now, if these
Speaker 1: fellows are driven, they can build this line within twelve months.
Speaker 1: It will be running by next April. Freights will fall
Speaker 1: fifty percent. Why, man, you'll be a millionaire in less
Speaker 1: than ten years, the colonel started. He was a thick,
Speaker 1: short man, with a clean shaven face and a certain
Speaker 1: air of breeding about the lines of his countenance. The
Speaker 1: word millionaire sounded well to his ears, he thought a
Speaker 1: great deal. He almost heard the puff of the fearfully
Speaker 1: costly automobile that was coming up the road, and he said,
Speaker 1: I suppose we might as well hire them. Of course,
Speaker 1: answered the promoter. The voice of the tall stranger in
Speaker 1: the corner broke in here. It will be a good
Speaker 1: thing for them, he said, half in question. The colonel moved.
Speaker 1: The guard makes strange friends. He thought to himself, what's
Speaker 1: this man doing here? Anyway? He looked at him, or
Speaker 1: rather looked at his eyes, and then somehow he felt
Speaker 1: a warming toward him. He said, well, at least it
Speaker 1: can't harm them, they're beyond that. It will do them good. Then,
Speaker 1: said the stranger. Again. The promoter shrugged his shoulders. It
Speaker 1: will do us good, he said, But the colonel shook
Speaker 1: his head impatiently. He felt a desire to justify himself
Speaker 1: before those eyes, and he answered, yes, it will do
Speaker 1: them good, or at any rate, it won't make them
Speaker 1: anyway worse than they are. Then he started to say
Speaker 1: something else, but here, sure enough, the sound of the
Speaker 1: automobile breathing at the gate stopped him, and they all arose.
Speaker 1: It's settled, then, said the promoter. Yes, said the colonel,
Speaker 1: turning toward the stranger again. Are you going into town,
Speaker 1: he asked, with the southern courtesy of white men to
Speaker 1: white men in a country town. The stranger said he was. Then,
Speaker 1: come along in my machine. I want to talk with
Speaker 1: you about this. They went out to the car. The
Speaker 1: stranger as he went turned around to look back at
Speaker 1: the convict. He was a tall, powerfully built black fellow.
Speaker 1: His face was sullen, with a low forehead, thick hanging lips,
Speaker 1: and bitter eyes. There was revolt written about his mouth
Speaker 1: despite the hang dog expression. He stood bending over his
Speaker 1: pile of stones, pounding listlessly. Beside him stood a boy
Speaker 1: of twelve yellow with a hunted look. The convict raised
Speaker 1: his eyes and they met the eyes of the stranger.
Speaker 1: The hammer fell from his hands. The stranger turned slowly
Speaker 1: toward the automobile, and the colonel introduced him. He had
Speaker 1: not exactly caught his name, but he mumbled something as
Speaker 1: he presented him to his wife and the little girl,
Speaker 1: who were waiting. As they whirled away, the colonel started
Speaker 1: to talk, but the stranger had taken the little girl
Speaker 1: into his lap, and together they conversed in low tones
Speaker 1: all the way home. In some way they did not
Speaker 1: know exactly how, they got the impression that the man
Speaker 1: was a teacher, and of course he must be a foreigner.
Speaker 1: The long cloaklike coat told this. They rode in the
Speaker 1: twilight through the lighted town, and at last drew up
Speaker 1: before the colonel's mansion with its ghost like pillars. The
Speaker 1: lady in the back seat was thinking of the guests
Speaker 1: she had invited to dinner, and was wondering if she
Speaker 1: ought not ask this man to stay. He seemed cultured,
Speaker 1: and she supposed he was some acquaintance of the colonel.
Speaker 1: It would be rather interesting to have him there with
Speaker 1: the judge's wife and daughter, and the rector. She spoke
Speaker 1: almost before she thought, you will enter and rest Awhile
Speaker 1: the colonel and the little girl insisted for a moment,
Speaker 1: the stranger seemed about to refuse. He said he had
Speaker 1: some business for his father about town. Then, for the
Speaker 1: child's sake, he consented. Up the steps they went and
Speaker 1: into the dark parlor, where they sat and talked a
Speaker 1: long time. It was a curious conversation. Afterwards they did
Speaker 1: not remember exactly what was said, and yet they all
Speaker 1: remembered a certain strange satisfaction in that long, low talk. Finally,
Speaker 1: the nurse came for the reluctant child, and the hostess
Speaker 1: bethought herself, we will have a cup of tea. You
Speaker 1: will be dry and tired. She rang and switched on
Speaker 1: a blaze of light with one accord. They all looked
Speaker 1: at the stranger, for they had hardly seen him well
Speaker 1: in the looming twilight. The woman started in amazement, and
Speaker 1: the colonel half rose in anger. Why the man was
Speaker 1: a mulatto. Surely, even if he did not own the
Speaker 1: Negro blood, their practiced eyes knew it. He was tall
Speaker 1: and straight, and the coat looked like a Jewish garbadine.
Speaker 1: His hair hung in close curls far down the sides
Speaker 1: of his face, and his face was olive, even yellow.
Speaker 1: A peremptory order rose to the colonel's lips and froze
Speaker 1: there as he caught the stranger's eyes. Those eyes, Where
Speaker 1: had he seen those eyes before? He remembered them long
Speaker 1: years ago, the soft, tear filled eyes of a brown girl.
Speaker 1: He remembered many things, and his face grew drawn and white.
Speaker 1: Those eyes kept burning into him, even when they were
Speaker 1: turned half away toward the staircase, where the white figure
Speaker 1: of the child hovered with her nurse and waved good night.
Speaker 1: The lady sank into her chair and thought, what will
Speaker 1: the judge's wife say? How did the colonel come to
Speaker 1: invite this man here? How shall we be rid of him?
Speaker 1: She looked at the Colonel in reproachful consternation. Just then
Speaker 1: the door opened and the old butler came in. He
Speaker 1: was an ancient black man with tufted white hair, and
Speaker 1: he held before him a large silver tray filled with
Speaker 1: a china tea service. The stranger rose slowly and stretched
Speaker 1: forth his hands as if to bless the viands. The
Speaker 1: old man paused in bewilderment. Tottered, and then, with a
Speaker 1: sudden gladness in his eyes, dropped to his knees, and
Speaker 1: the tray crashed to the floor. My Lord and my God,
Speaker 1: he whispered. And unrelated to things like that, dear listener,
Speaker 1: unrelated to things that rule over us in the heavens
Speaker 1: are the advertisers, the advertisers that support the show. Here
Speaker 1: they are hand We're back, my Lord and my God,
Speaker 1: he whispered. But the woman screamed, mother's china. The doorbell rang. Heavens,
Speaker 1: here's the dinner party, exclaimed the lady. She turned toward
Speaker 1: the door, but there in the hall, clad in her
Speaker 1: night clothes, was the little girl. She had stolen down
Speaker 1: the stairs to see the stranger again, and the nurse
Speaker 1: above was calling in vain. The woman felt hysterical and
Speaker 1: scolded at the nurse. But the stranger had stretched out
Speaker 1: his arms, and with a glad cry, the child nestled
Speaker 1: in them. They had caught some words about the Kingdom
Speaker 1: of heaven as he slowly mounted the stairs with his
Speaker 1: little white burden. The mother was glad of anything to
Speaker 1: get rid of the interloper, even for a moment. The
Speaker 1: bell rang again, she hastened toward the door, which the
Speaker 1: loitering black maid was just opening. She did not notice
Speaker 1: the shadow of the stranger as he came slowly down
Speaker 1: the stairs and paused by the nwel post. Dark and silent,
Speaker 1: the judge's wife came in. She was an old woman,
Speaker 1: frilled and powdered into a semblance of youth, and gorgeously gowned.
Speaker 1: She came forward, smiling with extended hands. But when she
Speaker 1: was opposite the stranger, somewhere a chill seemed to strike her,
Speaker 1: and she shuddered and cried, what a draft. As she
Speaker 1: drew a silken shawl about her and shook hands cordially,
Speaker 1: she forgot to ask who the stranger was. The judge
Speaker 1: strode in unsea, thinking of a puzzling case of theft.
Speaker 1: Huh what? Oh? Or yes, good evening, he said, good evening.
Speaker 1: Behind them came a young woman in the glory of
Speaker 1: youth and daintily silked, beautiful and face and form, with
Speaker 1: diamonds around her fair neck. She came in lightly, but
Speaker 1: stopped with a little gasp. Then she laughed gaily and said,
Speaker 1: why I beg your pardon? Was it not curious? I
Speaker 1: thought I saw there behind your man she hesitated. But
Speaker 1: he must be a servant, she argued, the shadow of
Speaker 1: great white wings it was, but the light on the drapery.
Speaker 1: What a turn it gave me, she smiled again. With
Speaker 1: her came a tall, handsome young naval officer here and
Speaker 1: his lady referred to the servant. He hardly looked at him,
Speaker 1: but held his gilded cap carelessly toward him, and the
Speaker 1: stranger placed it carefully on the rock. Last came the rector,
Speaker 1: a man of forty and well clothed. He started to pass.
Speaker 1: The stranger stopped and looked at him inquiringly. I beg
Speaker 1: your pardon, he said, I beg your pardon. I think
Speaker 1: I have met you. The stranger made no answer, and
Speaker 1: the hostess nervously hurried the guest's song. But the rector
Speaker 1: lingered and looked perplexed. Surely I know you. I have
Speaker 1: met you somewhere, he said, putting his hand vaguely to
Speaker 1: his head. You you remember me, do you not. The
Speaker 1: stranger quietly swept his cloak aside, and, to the hostess's
Speaker 1: unspeakable relief, passed out of the door. I never knew you,
Speaker 1: he said, in low tones as he went. The lady
Speaker 1: murmured some vain excuse about intruders, but the rector stood
Speaker 1: with annoyance written on his face. I beg a thousand pardons,
Speaker 1: he said to the hostess absently. It is a great
Speaker 1: pleasure to be here. Somehow I thought I knew that man.
Speaker 1: I am sure I knew him. Once the stranger had
Speaker 1: passed down the steps, and as he passed, the nurse,
Speaker 1: lingering at the top of the staircase flew down after him,
Speaker 1: caught his cloak, trembled, hesitated, and then kneeled in the dust.
Speaker 1: He touched her lightly with his hand and said, go
Speaker 1: and sin no more. With a glad cry. The maid
Speaker 1: left the house with its open door and turned north running.
Speaker 1: The stranger turned eastward into the night. As they parted,
Speaker 1: a long, low howl rose tremulously and reverberated through the night.
Speaker 1: The colonel's wife within shuddered the blood hounds, she said.
Speaker 1: The rector answered carelessly, another one of those convicts escaped.
Speaker 1: I suppose really they need severer measures. Then he stopped.
Speaker 1: He was trying to remember the stranger's name. The judge's
Speaker 1: wife looked about for the draft and arranged her shawl.
Speaker 1: The girl glanced at the white drapery in the hall,
Speaker 1: but the young officer was bending over her, and the
Speaker 1: fires of life burned in her veins. Howel after howell rose,
Speaker 1: and the night swelled and died away. The stranger strode
Speaker 1: rapidly along the highway and out into the deep forest.
Speaker 1: There he paused and stood waiting, tall and still. A
Speaker 1: mile up the road behind a man was running, tall
Speaker 1: and powerful and black, with crime stained face and convicts
Speaker 1: stripes upon him and shackles on his legs. He ran
Speaker 1: and jumped in little short steps, and his chains rang.
Speaker 1: He fell and rose again, while the howl of the
Speaker 1: hounds rang louder behind him. Into the forest, he leapt
Speaker 1: and crept and jumped and ran, streaming with sweat. Seeing
Speaker 1: the tall form rise before him, he stopped, suddenly, dropped
Speaker 1: his hands in sullen impotence, and sank, panting to the earth.
Speaker 1: A greyhound shot out of the woods behind him, howled, whined,
Speaker 1: and fawned before the stranger's feet. Hound after hound bayed,
Speaker 1: leapt and lay there. Then silently, one by one, with
Speaker 1: bowed heads, they crept backward toward the town. The stranger
Speaker 1: made a cup of his hands and gave the man
Speaker 1: water to drink, bathed his hot head, and gently took
Speaker 1: the chains and irons from his feet. By and by,
Speaker 1: the convict stood up. Day was dawning above the tree tops.
Speaker 1: He looked into the stranger's face, and for a moment
Speaker 1: a gladness swept over the stains of his face. Why
Speaker 1: you are a negro too, he said. Then, the convict
Speaker 1: seemed anxious to justify himself. I never had no chance,
Speaker 1: he said furtively. Thou shalt not steal, said the stranger.
Speaker 1: The man bridled, But how about them? Can they steal?
Speaker 1: Didn't they steal a whole year's work? And then when
Speaker 1: I stole to keep from starving? He glanced at the stranger. No,
Speaker 1: I didn't steal just to keep from starving. I stole
Speaker 1: to be stealing. I can't seem to keep from stealing.
Speaker 1: Seems like when I see things I just might. But yes,
Speaker 1: I'll try. The convict looked down at his striped clothes,
Speaker 1: but the stranger had taken off his long coat. He
Speaker 1: had put it around him, and the stripes disappeared. Much
Speaker 1: like dear listeners, I am about to disappear or the
Speaker 1: I'd break ah products and services and we're back. In
Speaker 1: the opening morning, the black man started toward the low
Speaker 1: log farmhouse in the distance, while the stranger stood watching him.
Speaker 1: There was a new glory in the day. The black
Speaker 1: man's face cleared up, and the farmer was glad to
Speaker 1: get him. All day, the black man worked as hard
Speaker 1: as he had never worked before. The farmer gave him
Speaker 1: some cold food. You could sleep in the barn, he said,
Speaker 1: and turned away. How much do I get a day,
Speaker 1: asked the black man. The farmer scowled. Now see here,
Speaker 1: said he. If you'll sign a contract for the season,
Speaker 1: I'll give you ten dollars a month. I won't sign
Speaker 1: no contract, said the black man, doggedly. Yes you will,
Speaker 1: said the farmer threateningly, or I'll call the convict guard.
Speaker 1: He grinned. The convict shrank and slouched to the barn.
Speaker 1: As night fell, he looked out and saw the farmer
Speaker 1: leave the place slowly. He crept out and sneaked toward
Speaker 1: the house. He looked through the kitchen door. No one
Speaker 1: was there, but the supper was spread as if the
Speaker 1: mistress had laid it and gone out. He ate ravenously.
Speaker 1: Then he looked into the front room and listened. He
Speaker 1: could hear low voices on the porch. On the table
Speaker 1: lay a gold watch. He gazed at it, and in
Speaker 1: a moment he was beside it, his hands were on it.
Speaker 1: Quickly he slipped out of the house and slouched toward
Speaker 1: the field. He saw his employer coming along the highway.
Speaker 1: He fled back in terror and around the front of
Speaker 1: the house, when suddenly he stopped. He felt the great
Speaker 1: dark eyes of the stranger and saw the same dark
Speaker 1: cloak like coat where the stranger sat on the doorstep,
Speaker 1: talking with the mistress of the house. Slowly, guiltily, he
Speaker 1: turned back, entered the kitchen and laid the watch stealthily
Speaker 1: where he had found it. Then he rushed wildly back
Speaker 1: toward the stranger with arms outstretched. The woman had laid
Speaker 1: supper for her husband, and going down from the house,
Speaker 1: had walked out toward a neighbor's. She was gone but
Speaker 1: a little while, and when she came back she started
Speaker 1: to see a dark figure on the doorsteps under the
Speaker 1: tall red oak. She thought it was the new Negro
Speaker 1: until he said, in a soft voice, will you give
Speaker 1: me some bread? Reassured at the voice of a white man,
Speaker 1: she answered quickly in her soft southern tones. Why, certainly
Speaker 1: she was a little woman, and once had been pretty,
Speaker 1: but now her face was drawn with work and care.
Speaker 1: She was nervous and always thinking, wishing, wanting for something.
Speaker 1: She went in and got him some cornbread and a
Speaker 1: glass of cool, rich buttermilk. Then she came out and
Speaker 1: sat down beside him. She began, quite unconscious, to tell
Speaker 1: him about herself, the things she had done and had
Speaker 1: not done, and the things she had wished for. She
Speaker 1: told him of her husband and this new farm they
Speaker 1: were trying to buy. She said it was hard to
Speaker 1: get to work. She said, they ought to all be
Speaker 1: in the chain gang, and made to work. Even then
Speaker 1: some ran away. Only yesterday one had escaped, and another
Speaker 1: the day before. At last, she gossiped of her neighbors,
Speaker 1: how good they were and how bad? And do you
Speaker 1: like them? All? Asked the stranger. She hesitated most of them,
Speaker 1: she said, and then, looking up into his face, and
Speaker 1: putting her hand into his as though he were her father,
Speaker 1: she said, there are none a hate, no none at all.
Speaker 1: He looked away, holding her hand in his, and said, dreamily,
Speaker 1: you love your neighbor as yourself. She hesitated a try
Speaker 1: she began, then looked the way. He was looking down
Speaker 1: under the hill where lay a little half ruined cabin.
Speaker 1: They are, she said briefly. He looked at her. Suddenly
Speaker 1: a confusion came over her, and she insisted she knew
Speaker 1: not why, but they are. With a sudden impulse, she
Speaker 1: arose and hurriedly lighted the lamp that stood just within
Speaker 1: the door, and held it above her head. She saw
Speaker 1: his dark face and curly hair. She shrieked in angry
Speaker 1: terror and rushed down the path. And just as she
Speaker 1: rushed down, the black convict came running up with hands outstretched.
Speaker 1: They met in mid path, and before he could stop,
Speaker 1: he had run against her, and she fell heavily to
Speaker 1: the earth and lay white and still. Her husband came
Speaker 1: rushing around the house with a cry and an oath.
Speaker 1: Ah knew it, he said, it's that runaway. He held
Speaker 1: the black man struggling to the earth, and raised his
Speaker 1: voice to a yell. Down the highway came the convict
Speaker 1: guard with hound and mob and gun. They paused across
Speaker 1: the fields. Armor motioned them. He attacked my wife, he gasped.
Speaker 1: The mob snarled and worked silently right to the limb
Speaker 1: of the red oak. They hoisted the struggling, writhing black man,
Speaker 1: while others lifted the dazed woman right and left. As
Speaker 1: she tottered to the house, she searched for the stranger
Speaker 1: with a yearning. But the stranger was gone, and she
Speaker 1: told none of her guests, no, I want nothing, she insisted,
Speaker 1: until they left her as they thought asleep. For a time,
Speaker 1: she lay still, listening to the departure of the mob.
Speaker 1: Then she rose. She shuddered as she heard the creaking
Speaker 1: of the limb where the body hung, but resolutely she
Speaker 1: crawled to the window and peered out into the moonlight.
Speaker 1: She saw the dead man wrive. He stretched his arms
Speaker 1: out like a cross, looking upward. She gasped and clung
Speaker 1: to the window sill. Behind the swaying body, and down
Speaker 1: were the little half cabin lay A single flame flashed
Speaker 1: up amid the far off shout and cry of the mob.
Speaker 1: A fierce joy sobbed up through the terror in her soul,
Speaker 1: and then sank abashed as she watched the flame rise,
Speaker 1: suddenly whirling into one great crimson column. It shot to
Speaker 1: the top of the sky and threw great arms athwart
Speaker 1: the gloom, until above the world and behind the roped
Speaker 1: and swaying form below, hung quivering and burning a great
Speaker 1: crimson cross. She hid her dizzying, aching head in an
Speaker 1: agony of tears, and dared not look for she knew.
Speaker 1: Her dry lips moved, despised and rejected of men she knew,
Speaker 1: and the very horror of it lifted her dull and
Speaker 1: shrinking eyelids. There heaven, tall, earth wide, hung the stranger
Speaker 1: on the crimson cross, riven and blood stained, with thorn
Speaker 1: crowned head and pierced hands. She stretched her arms and shrieked.
Speaker 1: He did not hear, he did not see. His calm,
Speaker 1: dark eyes, all sorrowful were fastened on the writing twisting
Speaker 1: body of the thief, and a voice came out of
Speaker 1: the winds of the night, saying, this day, thou shalt
Speaker 1: be with me in Paradise. The end. I honestly love
Speaker 1: this story. I like it even more than the comment,
Speaker 1: and I really like the comment. The comment seems like
Speaker 1: it'd be more at my alley. Right. It's like a
Speaker 1: genre story for those who haven't listened. It's, you know,
Speaker 1: like the post apocalyptic story that talks about race, and
Speaker 1: this one is a religious parable comparison thing metaphor whatever
Speaker 1: that's very direct and even kind of almost melodramatic. And
Speaker 1: I think it's amazing just the like bluntness of this story,
Speaker 1: especially when it came out as this political message, like
Speaker 1: the rector being like don't I know you? I think
Speaker 1: I used to know you and Jesus and like I
Speaker 1: do not know you is just so direct. And also
Speaker 1: this idea of like, you know, when I first read
Speaker 1: this story, I was like, ah, here it comes telling
Speaker 1: the guy shouldn't steal despite all the shit that gets
Speaker 1: stolen from him, and like I don't care if that
Speaker 1: guy steals a watch from a rich, fucking white asshole
Speaker 1: like whatever, right, but like the guy who's like trying
Speaker 1: to entrap him in some horrible you know, like oh
Speaker 1: you gotta sign this contract thing like that doesn't bother
Speaker 1: my morals at all, right, but my morals don't exactly
Speaker 1: line up with most interpretations of Christianity. But this idea
Speaker 1: of like, well, what you do with a person who's
Speaker 1: like a thief, isn't you put him on a chain
Speaker 1: gang and ruin his life? You forgive him and maybe
Speaker 1: chastise him and are like all right, and then take
Speaker 1: away his fucking you know chains, right. I think all
Speaker 1: the time about that that clip from Little Bird, the
Speaker 1: John Brown story, where it's like, you know, you worship
Speaker 1: the God of chains and I worship the God the Liberator.
Speaker 1: There's just different religions. You know, they have the same name,
Speaker 1: but they are fundamentally different religions. And that's what the
Speaker 1: story is calling out in like a language that's incredibly
Speaker 1: familiar to all of its readers. And like all of
Speaker 1: these people who are like you know, the white people
Speaker 1: in it, who are like, oh, I think I'm supposed
Speaker 1: to be doing not this. You know, it's like even
Speaker 1: offering them a sort of forgiveness or like a chance
Speaker 1: at salvation directly themselves, and like just also like mixed race,
Speaker 1: Jesus is like such a good direct also probably true
Speaker 1: in that particular whatever, anyway, I just really like this story.
Speaker 1: And I think that I tend to resonate with older
Speaker 1: stories more than modern stories, which makes me feel very weird.
Speaker 1: But maybe it's because I read history for a living
Speaker 1: and I'm like kind of living in the past a
Speaker 1: little bit. But I think that there's anne there, and
Speaker 1: I think that watching how people have dealt with problems
Speaker 1: over and over again in the past gives us a
Speaker 1: lot of lessons for the present. You know, when you
Speaker 1: study strategy, you study old battles, and whether you're talking
Speaker 1: about activism or war, you know which are often real
Speaker 1: blurry like in the case of the end of childele
Speaker 1: slavery in the United States. You know it suretok both
Speaker 1: of those things. And so I think that going back
Speaker 1: to study strategies and ways of thinking is really useful.
Speaker 1: I don't know, I like it. Hazel, who helps behind
Speaker 1: the scenes, says about it quote. One thing that sticks
Speaker 1: out to me about the story is the use of
Speaker 1: tropes and how they develop. The stranger who is a
Speaker 1: god in disguise itself feels like such a biblical trope
Speaker 1: to me, as in, I feel like there's a bunch
Speaker 1: of Bible passages about this. Allah, I was a stranger
Speaker 1: and you welcomed me Matthew twenty five, thirty five. But
Speaker 1: I wonder if this is part of how it winds
Speaker 1: its way into the literary world. Part of what's cool
Speaker 1: to me about reading and running older stories is tracing
Speaker 1: back these patterns that we know so well to how
Speaker 1: they were originally used before the tropes get run through
Speaker 1: the washing Machine sixty thousand times. I think this story
Speaker 1: also points to a similar pattern within anti racism and
Speaker 1: advocacy too. Obviously, the way that we talk about race
Speaker 1: and racism has changed a lot over time, and there's
Speaker 1: stuff in the story that have written today would turn
Speaker 1: some heads. But I think that's also why it's important
Speaker 1: to know where our conversations have come from, specifically because
Speaker 1: folks were still figuring stuff out. We need to know
Speaker 1: our stories, We need to remember our conversations because yeah,
Speaker 1: one hundred years, people are going to look back on
Speaker 1: us and say, yeah, look how far we've come. End quote.
Speaker 1: And that's it for this week. We'll be back next
Speaker 1: week with another special audience participation episode like the one
Speaker 1: we did for Mayday. This is the one where you're
Speaker 1: going to have to do homework. You're gonna have to
Speaker 1: do homework, dear, dear listeners, but this time it's going
Speaker 1: to be watching Star Trek, so it'll be even easier.
Speaker 1: We will be discussing an episode of Star Trek Deep
Speaker 1: Space nine called Far Beyond the Distant Stars, where the
Speaker 1: space station captain Cisco dreams that he and everyone else
Speaker 1: on the station are all working for a nineteen fifties
Speaker 1: sci fi pulp magazine, and if you want to give
Speaker 1: us your thoughts about it, you can head over to reddit.
Speaker 1: I'm going to post right after I finish recording this,
Speaker 1: so it'll be there by the time you look. I
Speaker 1: think it's gonna be on the it could Happen Here subreddit,
Speaker 1: which is you know, because this runs and they could
Speaker 1: Happen Here feed, as well as his own feed, as
Speaker 1: well as the Cool People Did Cool Stuff feed, but
Speaker 1: that's the most active subreddit of the three. So I'm
Speaker 1: going to head over there. I'm going to post and
Speaker 1: you all can give me us your thoughts about the
Speaker 1: Star Trek Deep Space nine episode called Far Beyond the
Speaker 1: Distant Stars, and we'll read some of them and we
Speaker 1: can participate in the conversation altogether, and maybe we'll read
Speaker 1: your comments on air. It'll be fun, I promise, and
Speaker 1: we'll see you next week. I'm Margaret Kiljoy. You can
Speaker 1: find me on the socials at Margaret Kiljoy until I
Speaker 1: get mad at all of them and delete them, which
Speaker 1: I get closer to every single day. In the meantime.
Speaker 1: Fuck ice Free Palestine, All power to the people. Don't
Speaker 1: cross picket lines. We will grind this empire into dust
Speaker 1: with the names of the slain fresh on our tongues. Bye.
Speaker 2: It Could Happen Here is a production of cool Zone Media.
Speaker 2: For more podcasts from cool Zone Media, visit our website
Speaker 2: coolzonmedia dot com, or check us out on the iHeartRadio app,
Speaker 2: Apple Podcasts, or wherever you listen to podcasts. You can
Speaker 2: now find sources for it could Happen Here, listed directly
Speaker 2: in episode descriptions. Thanks for listening.