My great-grandfather was lynched in Louisiana. He owned a fairly desirable plot of land. A few white landowners wanted it. So they lynched him. It's history, and history happens. This bit of history, unfortunately, is overwhelmingly black history. A noose is a weapon as much as it is a statement, and it is a powerfully loaded statement when made to a black audience. A noose invokes decades of lynch mobs, Jim Crowe laws and institutionalized racism. It is a statement of hate, fear and racism. It is iconic of death, and specifically, the death of blacks. We cannot deny that in this republic — and especially in Louisiana — a noose invokes a violent and racist history. Historically speaking, a noose says, "Nigger, I'm going to kill you."
So when three students in Jena, La., hung nooses from the "white tree" on their school campus, they created a context of hate and violence. When authorities in Jena did not take care to put to rest the fear and history that a noose symbolizes in the Deep South, they allowed a context in which black families were on the defensive. When authorities aggravated the situation by making threats to quell unrest among black students, they assured black families they had no intention of protecting them as they protect their white neighbors. And when white authorities made sure to punish black offenders in excess, especially when compared with their white counterparts, they set the stage for Jena to become the temporary focal point of the remains of the black civil rights movement.
A year ago, a black student at Jena High School asked if he could sit underneath a tree on the school campus that was traditionally known as the "white tree." A day after the black student was assured of his right to sit under the so-called "white tree," two nooses were found hanging from the tree.
What followed was a series of events that have conspired to make Jena a salient flashpoint on the civil rights scene. Culminating in a schoolyard brawl, six black students — the "Jena Six," as they have now been named — beat a single white student, Justin Barker, to unconsciousness.
Mr. Barker was alleged to have been mocking a member of the group for a beating he had suffered at the hands of white students only days earlier. Mr. Barker quickly learned not to taunt a group of students about their friend being the subject of a racist beating, and ended up spending some time in the hospital following the assault. Apparently, however, the Jena Six were fairly conservative in their beating, as Mr. Barker was able to attend a social event that evening.
There was a time when our civil rights movement and its leaders mobilized thousands of men and women against institutionalized racism. We — the black we — rallied around salient pioneers of our civil rights. Pioneers like Rosa Parks, athletes like Jackie Robinson, leaders like Martin Luther King Jr., and brave young people like the Little Rock Nine. Those men and women chose to lead, to some degree, a generation of blacks.
When compared with the sacrifice and strength of these figures, the Jena Six hardly seem worth mentioning. After all, the six young men involved viciously beat a fellow student. Justice must be served. Unfortunately for the Jena Six, and as is often the case with black offenders, "justice" seems only to be enforced when the offender is black.
The Jena Six were arrested, charged with attempted second-degree murder, and expelled from their school. One of the members of the so-called Jena Six, Robert Bailey, was beat by a group of white youth only days before the assault of Mr. Barker took place. One youth was arrested in relation to Mr. Bailey's beating, given probation and forced to apologize.
It is alarming that a group of black males should be charged with attempted murder while a similar group of white males committing similar acts only days before escaped with no more than a single apology. It is alarming when a group of white students can make such a hateful statement as hanging nooses from a tree in a little, predominantly white, town in Louisiana and escape with a three-day suspension. And it is alarming when the vanguard of our civil rights movement descends upon a town to call for the freedom of a group of young men who have assaulted a single victim.
How does one reconcile the violent actions of the Jena Six with the public outcry at the racist absurdity of their treatment? How does one protest the racism inherent in their treatment, while refraining from condoning the violent retribution that the Jena Six sought? Does one wear black on Wednesday in protest? Does one call for their freedom, march on the Confederate-flag lined streets of Jena or shake his head in disgust?
Sometimes, as in Jena, when civil authorities have clearly indicated their unwillingness to intervene and the racist specter of a noose hangs menacingly over the thoughts of black families, the justice system becomes the front of the bus. The people embroiled in its racist injustice are turned into unwitting symbols of a justice system and society that, in some places, are still racist. They aren't Rosa Parks, but the battle that Jena Six's plight embodies is worth fighting.
Gerald Cox ([email protected]) is a senior majoring in economics.
