Refusal is a powerful political act. Acting in self-defense, black men and black women in particular have consistently resisted the terms of oppression, discrimination and dehumanization. Denial is not strong, it is packed full of energy and meaning. “We refuse” is similar to black colloquialisms such as “nah,” “no,” “not today, Satan” or my favorite: “Oh hellllllllll no.”
The resistance is how one responds to white supremacy; deny it why. In America, we tend to focus more on how resistance is manifested or acted upon. It cannot be emphasized nearly enough why resistance is so important to the American story.
My grandmother Arnesta helped tell the story. In 1915, Arnesta was 9 years old in rural Alabama when she stepped on a rusty nail. Soon, the infection sets in and Arnesta becomes very ill. He most likely has tetanus, which can be fatal if left untreated. His mother, Maryam, was very upset.
Mary takes Arnesta to the only doctor she knows, a white man who lives in a big house on the other side of town. The doctor agrees to help Arnesta, but on one condition – after he cures her, she must live in his house and work for her family for the rest of her life. Slavery had been abolished 50 years earlier, but the doctor felt he had a right to Arnesta’s life and labor forever.
For a black girl living through one of the worst periods of race relations in America, this was a disgusting but predictable term of engagement. Built into the deal the doctor offered was lifelong slavery and possibly worse – a far cry from the doctor’s vow to “first do no harm.” Mary panicked. Not wanting to lose his daughter and only child to death, he agreed.
I’m sorry, my great-grandfather used to be a house servant. She rejected the doctor’s rude offer, picked up her sick granddaughter and brought her home. There, they provide all natural remedies that can be used. Arnesta survived, but for the rest of her life she walked with a limp. This story for me always sums up the power of white supremacy: Choose a life of being caught or resist and be weak. What shaped me was not the doctor’s suggestion but the unwillingness of my ancestors. His response is no, but never — a response that rejects white supremacy.
Refusal creates boundaries and defines unacceptable human interactions as those that deny dignity, respect and decency. It is not apathy or cynicism, but an insistence on the human experience in its entirety. It is not forgoing one vote or check out the world. Rejection requires activism through traditional or creative means, the kind recognized and celebrated by the LGBTQ+ community in June, the month of Pride, and by Black Americans in Juneteenth, to champion freedom for all.
That activism has created countless programs that feed, educate, heal and care for the Black community. Many important steps to end slavery were acts of resistance: The Underground Railroad was created because abolitionists refused to participate in the oppression and abuse. Black leaders and white allies formed protection societies and published newspapers, pamphlets and personal narratives to set an abolitionist national agenda based on intellectual, rhetorical, political and physical resistance. When about 250,000 black soldiers fought during the Civil War, they resisted slavery on American soil.
In the same spirit, during the 1960s and 70s, the Black Panther Party rejected second-class citizenship, created a national breakfast program, health clinics, ambulance services, legal aid, schools and treatment programs to deny the void of public services available to Blacks. . American. In times of racial and political unrest, the Black Power movement is centered on joy and solidarity, invoking hope, happiness and kinship as a shield against the demoralizing and degenerative effects of racism. James Brown’s “Say It Loud, I’m Black and I’m Proud” is a refusal to let white supremacy define what is beautiful, inspiring or good.
Although it may be done by individuals, at heart, rejection is collective. That is why the sentiment behind the words “we reject” remains among the conquered people. It has pressed the button on Black feminists and Native American politics, reiterating that oppressed people can and must refuse to be made invisible, silenced or denied. From the slave ships that arrived in the New World, through slavery, segregation and ongoing structural racism, black people have always fought back.
And Black culture refuses to be defined by oppression. Rejection has become our anthem, as a method, now in the novelty and genius of our vernacular, in the newspapers and literature created to tell our stories while trying to get rid of our literacy. It is now in the drums, banjo and bass permeating our music that refuses to be imitated or deleted, in the vocals that refuse to be ashamed or diluted. It is even in the tradition of forgiveness and friendship in society that is often not liked.
The revolutionary culture, art and society that grew out of these traditions is proof that like my ancestors, we can carve a new path and resist the choice between living in slavery or limping. Now and forever, we can resist and force ourselves to make our own destiny.
Kellie Carter Jackson is chair of Africana studies at Wellesley College and author of “We Resist: A Powerful History of Black Resistance,” from which this piece was adapted. On X/Twitter: @kcarterjackson
