As someone born and raised in Jacksonville, and educated in its integrated public schools in the 1970s and 1980s, I appreciate this thoughtful reflection so much. "Lift Every Voice and Sing," the Black National Anthem, was composed and first performed in Jacksonville. The city is rich in Black history, and has a growing Black population that is increasingly influential both politically and economically.
No doubt, Florida's largest city is changing, and the White supremacists -- of all varieties -- are very worried about what it means for them, though many of them no longer live in the city itself (which is one and the same with Duval County). Palmeter, who was from neighboring Clay County, was one of many White folks living in the mostly White counties bordering Jacksonville and, from afar, decrying it as a crime-ridden wasteland while barely hiding the racist undertones of their laments.
The latest wave of White flight has, indeed, left many holes in the fabric of the city, but it's hardly a crime-ridden wasteland. Quite the opposite. Its population is growing, with a burgeoning Black middle class and immigrants from Asia, Latin America, and the Middle East. Jacksonville just elected their first woman mayor -- a (White) Democrat -- and the county went for Biden in 2020. There's even a big, beautiful new park named for "Lift Every Voice and Sing." For sure Black folks in Jacksonville aren't apologizing for their resilience, joy, and self-determination. But the surrounding counties are deeply conservative and pro-Trump & DeSantis. It makes for a tense mix sometimes, with those folks on the perimeter looking at Jacksonville as an avatar of what the right wing has convinced them is "wrong" with this country. Palmeter was sadly not at all unique in his views, and I fear he may not remain alone in his actions. Florida under DeSantis is a frightening place for a lot of people and for a lot of reasons.
I think you're totally right that these violent extremists are a kind of release valve that -- on some level -- helps us feel less awful about our own internalized racist attitudes and behaviors. "I may not be perfect, but at least I'm not THAT guy." For that small, cold comfort, Black folks pay with their lives. But how many "release valves" are too many? When will we decide that enough is enough?
This is a really wise reflection (and such a helpful piece of context on your city-- it really resonates with the story and history of so many other places I love, in particular the part about how the core city is so often stereotyped; I also loved learning that "Lift Every Voice" was a Jacksonville creation! How has it felt seeing a city you love in the news for the wrong reason?
Thank you -- I appreciate that. I haven't lived there in almost 30 years, but I return twice a year (sometimes more) because most of my family still live in the area. I've witnessed the changes happen, and seen and heard first-hand some of the most chilling racist rhetoric you can imagine coming from White folks in the suburbs (and a few who still live in the city). Every time I try to provide counter-arguments, I'm dismissed as "another liberal Democrat." I have mixed feelings about Jacksonville, despite it being the place of my birth and where several generations of my family made a home. I know from your writing that you're familiar with that feeling! But I am optimistic about its future, despite this weekend's tragedy. The folks there are resilient and proud of where they live, warts and all, and I'm on their side.
As for what can be done to reconcile the deeply conservative counties that surround relatively liberal and diverse Jacksonville? I do not know. A lot of the White folks in Jacksonville (and even in those satellite counties) will rally in solidarity with the Black community and say all the usual things, projecting their sins onto this latest martyr to White Supremacy. They'll dedicate a Jaguars game to the victims' memory, and raise funds to cover expenses and to help the impacted family members. Everyone will pray. There will be a lot of prayer. All of this is good, even if some of it is performative. I hope it moves the needle a tiny bit on building a stronger, more united, and less racist metro region, but I won't hold my breath that it will lead to transformation. We forget too easily.
"Everyone will pray. There will be a lot of prayer. All of this is good, even if some of it is performative. I hope it moves the needle a tiny bit on building a stronger, more united, and less racist metro region, but I won't hold my breath that it will lead to transformation. We forget too easily."
That's a really powerful paragraph. I feelthat deeply.
Thanks Michael for your insights! I'm revising an essay about Jacksonville--actually La Villa, which is the neighborhood known as the Harlem of the South and of Lift Every Voice-- my great great grandfather was the owner of the La Villa "plantation" from before the Civil War (and named the area La Villa)...it's very gratifying to me that La Villa is known as the Harlem of the South and not for what it was before then.
Thanks for the book rec. “The far more common reason has nothing to do with the people being demonized. It’s when you hate another group because their resilience, their joy, and their glorious existence is impossible to square with the stories that have animated your life. It’s when you hate a group for what they reveal about you. Hate is one way human beings react to truths we can’t metabolize, but there are others as well: Performative guilt, tokenism, “listening and learning.” We’ve got lots of tricks. Some are deadlier than others. None are helpful.” Thanks for writing this.
So much good stuff here, Garrett. I was struck by this section in particular "There has been an immense beauty in all of those conversations I’ve had that end with “oh my goodness, are we really the monsters?” There’s always been an ellipsis there… an opportunity to ask the next logical question." You said once (I can't remember if it was to me directly or during Barnraisers) that "fear is an ellipsis" and I return to that regularly, reminding myself that my own fear and fear that comes up when I'm talking with other white folks is, at least in part, a desire for a different world.
I also really resonate with this "It’s when you hate another group because their resilience, their joy, and their glorious existence is impossible to square with the stories that have animated your life." It reminds me so much of what we see when folks are enraged about trans folks and our existence. It's not actually about us, it's about how we can't exist the way that we do alongside what they think about us or have been told about us.
So glad that you pointed out the implications of that paragraph on fear for the "conversation" about trans existence and dignity out in the world. It doesn't make anti-trans hatred any less loathsome, but I'm so glad you can remember that it's self-hatred (and often, a fear of their own self-freedom) that fuels transphobia.
Having grown up in 100% white White Bear Lake, MN (a suburb of St Paul), I know this weather, the Fair debates, and bready sandwiches. And was raised on monsters justify war and violence. When I attended Gustavus Adolphus (St Peter, MN) in the 70's, the college had an initiative to recruit a cohort of Black students from the south, predominantly Mississippi. I didn't understand why they largely roomed and ate and studied together nor why they were so loud. I'm guessing some relationships were built between white and Black students but largely we were apart. Since then I've lived in white communities in Idaho and Washington State. I've never had a friend who wasn't white. Segregation is real in rural and suburban areas and I think it matters. I think that our implicit bias and sense of difference associated with skin color are also real, no matter if we are progressive and denounce racial hate.
Very well put, Laura (and also, so funny how many biographical connections there are here-- one of the relatives we hung out with this weekend lives in White Bear, and both of my wife's parents are Gusties.
Woof, this one hit me hard. I feel like I (as an Asian American)/Asian Americans have a hard time reckoning with how we're the "golden/prized minority" and the privileges that affords us within the carnage that is White Supremacy. I find myself thinking in "white adjacent" frames, where I ally myself closer to Whiteness because it's safer and more powerful/comfortable. I think of all of the Affirmative Action rhetoric and how we're dumb enough or just... complicit enough with White Supremacy/ignorance/the "Monster" that we aid and abet it because "at least we're benefiting" (when the data shows that we most assuredly are not-- irony at it's finest when we're "so good at math").
I love and appreciate this reflection so much, Joyce. It's that magnetic pull of White Supremacy, "welcoming in" different ethnic groups (sometimes permanently, sometimes conditionally) that has made it particularly insidious. I think you spoke to how that pull towards White adjacency is being experienced right now in Asian American communities (the Affirmative Action debate is a perfect example) so well.
I found this post by clicking through from Wonkette. Thanks so much for this perspective. It's dense (in a good way) and worth another read. I also appreciate the intelligence of the comments. I am subscribing now.
When my family moved to Little Rock, in 1992, I went to a school in a white suburb that bussed black kids in from North Little Rock. I noticed I had almost every class with two people, Cesalie & Deirdre, who were drill team leaders, and black. I approached them, in an effort to forge a friendship, and they asked me “what I wanted” and explained that cross-racial friendships weren’t really a thing.
When we moved to St, Augustine, FL (40 miles south of Jacksonville), in 2010, my daughter was playing with a black girl in her class (3rd grade). This little girl asked her what she wanted and told her other white kids didn’t really try to be friends with her.
18 years. Little change. Broken system. Broken heart.
There's nothing like a shared story between generations to show how little things change over time, right? This also resonates for me-- I think consistently some of my greatest eye opening moments (both as a White kid and now a White adult) is when I learned that communities of color had to learn complex calculuses of how to navigate me and the ways I was a potential threat.
You really get into that thing of white guilt. I can identify a bit, but my burden is more varied.
I am 78, grew up in a small Ohio no colored after sunset town. I have worked with Blacks,, especially in a title xx program in the 80xs. I like them , spirit,. resiliency, culture, sense of humor. I do a lot of self analysis but not on this particular subject. Great .read
Thanks for this Garrett and asking the bigger questions--one of my biggest insights from The Inheritors is the very thing you write about in this piece.
As someone born and raised in Jacksonville, and educated in its integrated public schools in the 1970s and 1980s, I appreciate this thoughtful reflection so much. "Lift Every Voice and Sing," the Black National Anthem, was composed and first performed in Jacksonville. The city is rich in Black history, and has a growing Black population that is increasingly influential both politically and economically.
No doubt, Florida's largest city is changing, and the White supremacists -- of all varieties -- are very worried about what it means for them, though many of them no longer live in the city itself (which is one and the same with Duval County). Palmeter, who was from neighboring Clay County, was one of many White folks living in the mostly White counties bordering Jacksonville and, from afar, decrying it as a crime-ridden wasteland while barely hiding the racist undertones of their laments.
The latest wave of White flight has, indeed, left many holes in the fabric of the city, but it's hardly a crime-ridden wasteland. Quite the opposite. Its population is growing, with a burgeoning Black middle class and immigrants from Asia, Latin America, and the Middle East. Jacksonville just elected their first woman mayor -- a (White) Democrat -- and the county went for Biden in 2020. There's even a big, beautiful new park named for "Lift Every Voice and Sing." For sure Black folks in Jacksonville aren't apologizing for their resilience, joy, and self-determination. But the surrounding counties are deeply conservative and pro-Trump & DeSantis. It makes for a tense mix sometimes, with those folks on the perimeter looking at Jacksonville as an avatar of what the right wing has convinced them is "wrong" with this country. Palmeter was sadly not at all unique in his views, and I fear he may not remain alone in his actions. Florida under DeSantis is a frightening place for a lot of people and for a lot of reasons.
I think you're totally right that these violent extremists are a kind of release valve that -- on some level -- helps us feel less awful about our own internalized racist attitudes and behaviors. "I may not be perfect, but at least I'm not THAT guy." For that small, cold comfort, Black folks pay with their lives. But how many "release valves" are too many? When will we decide that enough is enough?
This is a really wise reflection (and such a helpful piece of context on your city-- it really resonates with the story and history of so many other places I love, in particular the part about how the core city is so often stereotyped; I also loved learning that "Lift Every Voice" was a Jacksonville creation! How has it felt seeing a city you love in the news for the wrong reason?
Thank you -- I appreciate that. I haven't lived there in almost 30 years, but I return twice a year (sometimes more) because most of my family still live in the area. I've witnessed the changes happen, and seen and heard first-hand some of the most chilling racist rhetoric you can imagine coming from White folks in the suburbs (and a few who still live in the city). Every time I try to provide counter-arguments, I'm dismissed as "another liberal Democrat." I have mixed feelings about Jacksonville, despite it being the place of my birth and where several generations of my family made a home. I know from your writing that you're familiar with that feeling! But I am optimistic about its future, despite this weekend's tragedy. The folks there are resilient and proud of where they live, warts and all, and I'm on their side.
As for what can be done to reconcile the deeply conservative counties that surround relatively liberal and diverse Jacksonville? I do not know. A lot of the White folks in Jacksonville (and even in those satellite counties) will rally in solidarity with the Black community and say all the usual things, projecting their sins onto this latest martyr to White Supremacy. They'll dedicate a Jaguars game to the victims' memory, and raise funds to cover expenses and to help the impacted family members. Everyone will pray. There will be a lot of prayer. All of this is good, even if some of it is performative. I hope it moves the needle a tiny bit on building a stronger, more united, and less racist metro region, but I won't hold my breath that it will lead to transformation. We forget too easily.
"Everyone will pray. There will be a lot of prayer. All of this is good, even if some of it is performative. I hope it moves the needle a tiny bit on building a stronger, more united, and less racist metro region, but I won't hold my breath that it will lead to transformation. We forget too easily."
That's a really powerful paragraph. I feelthat deeply.
Thanks Michael for your insights! I'm revising an essay about Jacksonville--actually La Villa, which is the neighborhood known as the Harlem of the South and of Lift Every Voice-- my great great grandfather was the owner of the La Villa "plantation" from before the Civil War (and named the area La Villa)...it's very gratifying to me that La Villa is known as the Harlem of the South and not for what it was before then.
Thank you, and that sounds like a great essay! I’m very happy to see La Villa finally getting the respect it deserves.
Thanks for the book rec. “The far more common reason has nothing to do with the people being demonized. It’s when you hate another group because their resilience, their joy, and their glorious existence is impossible to square with the stories that have animated your life. It’s when you hate a group for what they reveal about you. Hate is one way human beings react to truths we can’t metabolize, but there are others as well: Performative guilt, tokenism, “listening and learning.” We’ve got lots of tricks. Some are deadlier than others. None are helpful.” Thanks for writing this.
Glad it was helpful! And oh yeah, I can not recommend that book highly enough!
So much good stuff here, Garrett. I was struck by this section in particular "There has been an immense beauty in all of those conversations I’ve had that end with “oh my goodness, are we really the monsters?” There’s always been an ellipsis there… an opportunity to ask the next logical question." You said once (I can't remember if it was to me directly or during Barnraisers) that "fear is an ellipsis" and I return to that regularly, reminding myself that my own fear and fear that comes up when I'm talking with other white folks is, at least in part, a desire for a different world.
I also really resonate with this "It’s when you hate another group because their resilience, their joy, and their glorious existence is impossible to square with the stories that have animated your life." It reminds me so much of what we see when folks are enraged about trans folks and our existence. It's not actually about us, it's about how we can't exist the way that we do alongside what they think about us or have been told about us.
So glad that you pointed out the implications of that paragraph on fear for the "conversation" about trans existence and dignity out in the world. It doesn't make anti-trans hatred any less loathsome, but I'm so glad you can remember that it's self-hatred (and often, a fear of their own self-freedom) that fuels transphobia.
Having grown up in 100% white White Bear Lake, MN (a suburb of St Paul), I know this weather, the Fair debates, and bready sandwiches. And was raised on monsters justify war and violence. When I attended Gustavus Adolphus (St Peter, MN) in the 70's, the college had an initiative to recruit a cohort of Black students from the south, predominantly Mississippi. I didn't understand why they largely roomed and ate and studied together nor why they were so loud. I'm guessing some relationships were built between white and Black students but largely we were apart. Since then I've lived in white communities in Idaho and Washington State. I've never had a friend who wasn't white. Segregation is real in rural and suburban areas and I think it matters. I think that our implicit bias and sense of difference associated with skin color are also real, no matter if we are progressive and denounce racial hate.
Very well put, Laura (and also, so funny how many biographical connections there are here-- one of the relatives we hung out with this weekend lives in White Bear, and both of my wife's parents are Gusties.
Woof, this one hit me hard. I feel like I (as an Asian American)/Asian Americans have a hard time reckoning with how we're the "golden/prized minority" and the privileges that affords us within the carnage that is White Supremacy. I find myself thinking in "white adjacent" frames, where I ally myself closer to Whiteness because it's safer and more powerful/comfortable. I think of all of the Affirmative Action rhetoric and how we're dumb enough or just... complicit enough with White Supremacy/ignorance/the "Monster" that we aid and abet it because "at least we're benefiting" (when the data shows that we most assuredly are not-- irony at it's finest when we're "so good at math").
Going to chew on this one and do better.
I love and appreciate this reflection so much, Joyce. It's that magnetic pull of White Supremacy, "welcoming in" different ethnic groups (sometimes permanently, sometimes conditionally) that has made it particularly insidious. I think you spoke to how that pull towards White adjacency is being experienced right now in Asian American communities (the Affirmative Action debate is a perfect example) so well.
I found this post by clicking through from Wonkette. Thanks so much for this perspective. It's dense (in a good way) and worth another read. I also appreciate the intelligence of the comments. I am subscribing now.
Great to have you here, Judith. Thanks!
When my family moved to Little Rock, in 1992, I went to a school in a white suburb that bussed black kids in from North Little Rock. I noticed I had almost every class with two people, Cesalie & Deirdre, who were drill team leaders, and black. I approached them, in an effort to forge a friendship, and they asked me “what I wanted” and explained that cross-racial friendships weren’t really a thing.
When we moved to St, Augustine, FL (40 miles south of Jacksonville), in 2010, my daughter was playing with a black girl in her class (3rd grade). This little girl asked her what she wanted and told her other white kids didn’t really try to be friends with her.
18 years. Little change. Broken system. Broken heart.
There's nothing like a shared story between generations to show how little things change over time, right? This also resonates for me-- I think consistently some of my greatest eye opening moments (both as a White kid and now a White adult) is when I learned that communities of color had to learn complex calculuses of how to navigate me and the ways I was a potential threat.
You really get into that thing of white guilt. I can identify a bit, but my burden is more varied.
I am 78, grew up in a small Ohio no colored after sunset town. I have worked with Blacks,, especially in a title xx program in the 80xs. I like them , spirit,. resiliency, culture, sense of humor. I do a lot of self analysis but not on this particular subject. Great .read
Glad reading it was helpful and spurred some reflection (and also feel really grateful for you sharing some of your history with me too).
Don't carry your guilt, just work it off.
Thanks for this Garrett and asking the bigger questions--one of my biggest insights from The Inheritors is the very thing you write about in this piece.